Work Text:
"You're here to kill me, right? Go ahead, just make it quick so you can get out of here and get your money."
Wait, that wasn't right. That wasn't what Bo was supposed to say. After all this time, after all the ways that Ryan tried to murder the king in cold blood, he had never said anything so defeated before. He had never spoken so softly, frustrated words punctuated by a groan pushed through a clenched jaw. It was strange, unnerving even. It made the things underneath Ryan's skin crawl around. He wasn't expecting the night to go any different than usual when he broke into the king's workroom. He had gotten quite used to the routine that they had fallen into.
They'd go back and forth until Ryan was eventually caught by the guards. They'd send him down to the dungeons and he'd sit there, hands chained above his head just long enough for them to lose feeling before Bo came down and let him go. Most nights, they'd even have a conversation that he'd think about during the long drive home. Yes, he had grown used to that routine. So used to seeing the king's confident chill as he stared down the barrel of his gun that his appearance now bothered him. Dejected, lost in thought, hope drained from his eyes one drop at a time.
Ryan couldn't kill him like this.
"Uh...." He couldn't help but feel like he was getting pranked. "W-What are you talking about?"
"You need to kill me, right? To get your money?" Bo stuck his cheek in his palm, avoiding eye contact with the assassin by staring at a fountain pen on his desk. "Go ahead. I'm ready."
He frowned. "I don't want it like this."
"You shouldn't care how you get it, motherfucker. All that should matter is that you get it. I'm your target, remember?"
Those words made something inside of him burn, though he couldn't understand why. All Bo was doing was speaking the truth.
"Right. I remember."
Ryan approached the desk. He tried to stare at that fountain pen Bo was so interested in, hoping that it would distract him from the undeniable pressure in the room. It could push him through the floorboards if he let it, sending him down to the dungeons until he was forced to rot down there. A part of him thought that would be easier than knowing that the king was miserable without Ryan being the cause of it.
Bo glanced at him. Daring him, begging him. He was waiting for it. Ryan dug his fingernails into his palms.
"What's wrong with you?"
"Why should I tell you?"
"B-Because I said so...."
"Great argument."
A true asshole, that king. He seemed to know it too because his shoulders fell once his own words sunk into the air between them. Bo hesitated, so close to saying something until he ultimately decided to just keep his mouth shut. Ryan could tell that his feelings were destroying him from the inside out. How dare they take his job away from him?
"Aren't you going to get it over with?" Bo asked.
"Tell me what's wrong. I don't like seeing you act this way. It takes the fun out of this."
"It's work, it shouldn't be fun. It should be miserable and unrewarding."
"Well, maybe for you."
He glared at him before sighing. "I'm still waiting for that bullet, motherfucker. I've been rather patient, don't you think?"
"I guess you'll be waiting for a while. I'm not doing anything until you tell me why you're acting like this. I'll just stand here and get on your nerves all night long. Trust me, I can be pretty annoying."
"Unfortunately, I know that about you already."
Bo leaned back in his seat. He reached into his pocket and whispered soft reassurances when Ryan instinctively tensed at the sudden movement. He pulled out his cell phone, typing and tapping on it without a word. The assassin tried to figure out what he was up to, especially since all of his questions were answered with silence, but he eventually got his answer when the phone was set down on the desk.
"I might as well show this to you since you're far too stubborn to leave me be and far too cruel to let me die," Bo said as he slid the phone over to him.
There was an article on the screen.
Ryan saw it once he picked up the phone. He skimmed through it, stopping his scrolling only when his eyes snagged on something really important. It happened more times than he would've liked. The author spoke about Bo's kingdom and his ruling style, two things that they insisted were wicked and wrong. They also spoke about his age, his supposed lack of maturity, and the fact that he was only partially human. They brought that last point up constantly. Ryan grit his teeth every time he saw it.
"Don't read the last paragraph," Bo warned him, which of course meant that Ryan had to do it anyway.
He scrolled ahead to the last paragraph. It was just as mean-spirited and vulgar as the rest of the article, though that specific paragraph referenced something that they had to be making up. Sentence after sentence about Bo killing and eating a man when he was younger, shortly after becoming king in front of cameras and children. They talked about the blood that stained his white teeth, the chunks of flesh stuck on his claws, the way he growled and panted and watched the trembling world before him with starving eyes. A beast like that shouldn't be in charge of a kingdom. He'd just eat anyone who disagreed with him. They must've had no life to make something up with so much detail.
Ryan glared at the phone before setting it down on the desk. "Wow, they wrote an entire page of bullshit. That's an impressive way to waste time."
"They weren't wasting their time. They were doing their job—"
"No, they were attacking you personally and making up lies about you. If that's what being a reporter is then I need to change my target."
"You're in control of who your targets are?"
He rolled his eyes. "You're not listening to me."
"That's because nothing you say will change anything. That's how everyone feels about me. No matter how hard I try, I'm always going to be a half-human atrocity that's unfit to rule a kingdom on its last legs."
Those were words ripped straight from the article.
"That's not true—"
"Yes, it is."
"It's not. That's one person, Bo. That's one dumbass who doesn't speak for the majority—"
"If you knew how much hate I get on a regular basis, you wouldn't be saying that."
"So what if you get a lot of hate? You get a lot of love, admiration, and respect too. Your staff likes you, your guards like you, Kyle loves you. All of that outweighs a couple of petty comments in a stupid article. Don't be an asshole and throw your life away over something like this, especially since you're more dedicated than any reporter could ever dream to be."
Ryan didn't think his words would do anything for Bo. After all, who was he to say anything? Aside from the man who needed to kill him, he was nobody special. Nothing he said would get that reporter's head out of their own ass or alter the minds of those who disliked the king. Putting things in perspective was the best he could do, but he was more than convinced that his best wouldn't be enough. That was why he was so surprised to see the king chuckle quietly at his words.
"I never thought someone like you would be telling me not to throw my life away." Bo smiled as his hands went under his desk.
Ryan had no idea how much he had missed that smile.
It fell quickly, almost as if he was trying to keep it hidden. The assassin had caught it though and he made sure to tuck it away into the back of his mind for later. That was something he'd definitely think about during the long drive home.
"Are you feeling better? I'll take my shot if you are."
"Take the shot if you want, but I have to warn you that I just pressed the panic button under the desk. It triggers a silent alarm that notifies the guards if something is wrong."
Ryan's eyes widened. "Panic button? How long have you had that?"
"It's new. The guards installed it to stop assassins from breaking into my castle and attempting to kill me in ridiculous ways."
He scoffed. "Ridiculous?"
"If you think hiding in my cabinet last week with your gun wasn't ridiculous, then I don't know what to tell you."
"You're just cranky because I almost gave you a third eye."
"Cranky? I'm amused, motherfucker." Bo smirked. "It was hilarious to watch you get stuck in there. The guards having to pull you out is part of the reason why they installed the button."
Before Ryan could get another word in, he heard the workroom's door swing open. Everything happened so fast after that, a blur of sights and sounds and noises. A familiar warmth encased him, and without warning, he was sent to the floor. Ryan knew that trying to resist Kyle's magic was utterly useless at this point, but that wouldn't stop him from trying and failing anyway. The sound of Kyle's footsteps growing closer to Bo's desk was more distinct than the guards' heavy armor trying to cram through the doorway.
"My lord, thank goodness you're alright. I saw the guards rushing down the hallway and knew that something was wrong." Kyle sighed. "I should've known that this assassin would be the problem though."
Hands on his back, chains on his wrists. The guards wasted no time making him bound and harmless. This was Ryan's least favorite part of the night.
"I'm really concerned about this issue, your majesty. I just don't know how he keeps escaping the dungeons." A young female guard had said. "I mean, this is the third time this month."
Bo sucked his teeth. "Only the third, Lotte?"
Wait, what was that supposed to mean? Ryan tried to analyze and decode his words, but it was hard to recover from the teal fog that had been lifted. Now that it was gone, the guards were able to yank him onto his feet and allow him to look his target in the eye. It was hard to calm the waves of anxiety that often came at the thought of being sent down to the dungeon. He just had to remember that Bo would come down to get him. He never said it out loud but it was always clear by his gaze. Ryan could see it now. That and gratitude, an abundance of it locked in his red pupils. That stuck with him long after Bo stood from his chair and said, "Remove him, please."