Axel Varen

Axel Varen didn’t believe in love.

Not the kind they wrote about in books, not the kind people dedicated songs to, and definitely not the kind idiots bled over. Love was just another game—one you played to win.

And right now, he was winning.

The dimly lit, dingy room smelled of iron and cheap cologne, the kind that didn’t do much to cover up the sharp tang of blood. Axel crouched in front of his victim, a man who had no idea how his night would end when he left the bar, now bound to a rusty old chair. His face was pale, eyes darting back and forth, terrified. He should be. Axel knew how this ended, and he always made it count. But first, the conversation. The part he loved.

“Tell me something,” Axel said, his voice low, almost too calm as he dragged a chair forward and straddled it, leaning in to rest his forearms lazily on the back. The room was quiet enough for the sound of Axel’s fingernails tapping against the wood to be the only noise. He slid his knife between his fingers, catching the cold, steel edge as it caught the light. “You ever been in love?”

The man’s breath hitched, his chest heaving as he struggled against the ropes. The gag in his mouth made it harder to answer, but Axel wasn’t in a rush. Patience was key. And he had time.

A quick shake of the man’s head, panic in his eyes.

Axel sighed, bored. “C’mon, man. Work with me here. I’m trying to have a real conversation.” His fingers flicked the blade over his wrist, letting it catch the light as he tapped the flat edge of it against his palm. There was something mesmerizing about the way it gleamed—so smooth, so clean. He liked it that way. The guy didn’t even deserve that much. He wasn’t worth it.

But this was about the game. “Tell me, have you ever been in love?” Axel repeated, voice laced with lazy interest.

The man gasped, a small whimper escaping the gag as if his life depended on the answer.

Axel leaned closer, letting the blade hover near the man’s throat, just close enough for him to feel the cool metal. “Well?”

“Please,” the man gasped, voice shaking. “I—I don’t even know you! I didn’t do anything—”

Axel pressed the knife under his chin, forcing his head up. “Wrong answer.”

Finally, the man’s lips trembled. “I—I have.”

Axel nodded. “See? That’s better. Now we’re talking.” He let the blade slide across the man’s collarbone, the pressure so light that it barely made a mark. “When you were with her, did you ever feel... jealous?”

The man froze, eyes wide. He didn’t answer right away, his mouth working desperately beneath the gag.

The man hesitated, and Axel’s lips twitched.

“Don’t lie to me, man,” he said. “I hate liars.”

Axel clicked his tongue, disappointment coating his words. “You see? You’re making this difficult. It’s not that hard.” He leaned back, folding his arms and watching the man squirm. The room was silent except for the man’s frantic breathing.

The guy’s breath hitched. “I—I did. Sometimes.”

Axel grinned, like they were just two guys having a normal conversation over drinks. “See? That’s what I’m saying. It’s normal. But people act like I’m the crazy one.”

The man didn’t respond, which was smart.

A quick glance at the knife. A twirl of his fingers. The man was begging without words.

“You know,” Axel started casually, rolling his shoulders as though he were just talking about the weather, “Here’s the thing. You look at someone you love, and you know they’re yours. But then some asshole walks in, starts talking to them, laughing with them, and suddenly...” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Suddenly, you’re thinking about how easy it’d be to make them disappear.”

The man trembled even harder, his eyes flicking to the door as if thinking he could escape. Axel smirked, leaning in again, this time letting the knife press against the man’s skin, a promise.

Axel caught the movement and smirked. “Relax, I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about you.”

The man’s lips trembled. “Please. I have a family—”

Axel clicked his tongue. “Yeah, yeah, they always do.

“So, tell me,” Axel continued, his tone softening but still cold. “Alright, one last question. Hypothetically, if you wanted to impress a girl—hypothetically—what would you do?”

The man blinked at him, confusion replacing the terror. “W-What? What does that have to do with—”

Axel’s smirk deepened. “Rude. Here I am, giving you my undivided attention, and you’re acting like I’m asking for a kidney. C’mon, man. Help me out.”

The man’s face was a mask of horror as he gasped through the gag. “I—I don’t know! I’m just a guy—”

“Okay, okay.” Axel sighed dramatically, standing up, clearly bored now. “But you’re no help, man. Not even trying to play along. That’s the problem with people like you. You think you can control everything, everyone, even when you’re out of your depth.”

The guy was quiet for a moment—probably debating whether good advice could buy him time.

“Be... be yourself,” he finally said. “Women like confidence.”

Axel blinked. Then snorted. Then laughed. A real laugh, sharp and amused.

“Be myself?” he repeated, shaking his head. “Yeah, see, that’s the thing. That only works if you’re not me.”

With one smooth motion, Axel drew the knife and ended the game. The man’s body crumpled into the chair, the life leaving his eyes as the blood began to pool around him. Axel wiped the blade against the man’s shirt, slowly, deliberately, almost ritualistic.

He looked at the time. “Alright, well... that’s enough of that. I’ve got a party to crash.”

—

Axel steps into the apartment, the scent of cigarettes and cheap cologne lingering in the air. Lucas is sprawled on the couch, one arm draped over the back, his phone in hand. He barely glances up when Axel walks in, tossing his keys onto the counter.

“Rough night?” Lucas asks, his tone casual, but there’s a knowing glint in his eyes.

Axel doesn’t answer right away. He moves to the fridge, grabbing a beer and popping the cap off with his thumb. “Something like that,” he mutters, sinking into the chair across from him.

Lucas watches him for a second before smirking. “Yeah? That the kind of ‘something’ you gotta clean up after?”

Axel takes a slow sip of his beer, his grip tightening around the bottle. He doesn’t need to answer. Lucas already knows.

“Man, you gotta get a new hobby,” Lucas sighs, tossing his phone onto the table. “You can’t keep doing this shit every time someone breathes in her direction.”

Axel exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Wasn’t about her.”

Lucas snorts. “Yeah? You’re a shit liar.”

Axel smirks but doesn’t deny it.

A beat of silence stretches between them, comfortable but heavy. Lucas leans forward, elbows on his knees, studying him. “You see her today?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

Axel leans back, rolling the bottle between his palms, but before he can say anything, the apartment’s buzzer goes off.

Both of them freeze.

It’s late. Too late for visitors.

Lucas raises an eyebrow. “You expecting someone?”

Axel doesn’t answer, just sets the bottle down and moves toward the door. His muscles are tense, his mind already running through the possibilities. Could be nothing. Could be something.

Lucas stays where he is, but he watches carefully as Axel reaches for the door. The silence on the other side feels thick, pressing.

Axel unlocks it and swings it open.

And then he stops.

Because standing there, in the dim light of the hallway, is her.