Whether or not a case was big, they more often than not involved a chase. It had gotten to the point that the police men were required to work out during their free time just to be able to keep up with any potential fugitives. It was aggravating at the least, when they ran. And for some reason, they always run. Running doesn’t make them look any more innocent—rather the opposite. And running doesn’t decrease the length of their jail time. At some points it was understandable when they felt like they could escape—when a cop was busy, or the place was crowded. But this one—this one made no sense. Gabriel was less than a second away from handcuffing the guy when he sprinted. It took exactly a second for Gabriel to figure out what was happening and to go after him.
The fable was just gaining on the criminal when a gun was taken out and bullets were being shot. Immediately, the cop got as low as he could—which was on the ground—and took cover behind a dumpster. He heard the metal screeching under the hard bullets, causing him to flinch. He waited a second before grabbing the shotgun from his belt, turning his body so he could face the latter, shooting at the figure. He missed, and quite obviously when a trash can from the distance screeched just as the dumpster had. He had to get closer, but he couldn’t get out from behind the metal box that was giving him all the protection he had. As if to make things even worse, he felt searing pain shoot up his left arm. Gabriel made the quick decision that it was broken from getting on the ground.
The longer he was sitting down the farther the criminal was getting. So he stood up, ignoring the pain in his arm as he ran forward. His bullets were getting closer to his target, but so was the other’s. He couldn’t stay exposed, he decided, and headed inside a building. The door shut close behind him and he was thankful for the light that it offered. Though that thanks only lasted for a moment, as the light showed him that he didn’t, in fact, break his arm. His shoulder was shot at, and a constant stream of blood flowed from it, drenching his shirt. “Shit..” he breathed out harshly, his hands fumbling for the walkie talkie he hooked on his belt. His words were breathy and harsh, “I’m shot, left shoulder, can’t chase after the guy. He was running down..near the..Myeongdong..second something. He was just running straight. I got him in the foot, but I don’t think it did much.”
The conversation soon ended but the blood failed to follow suit. His teeth at this point was clenched, the sleeve of his jacket pressed down hard to his shoulder as his eyes shut in pain. It was as if a light switch turned something on in him that said, You aren’t alone. that caused him to sit up straighter, his head turning in all directions before landing on the face of what seemed to be a stranger at the time. “You mind closing early today?”
Time had seemed to pass slowly that day, and as in a trance the Fable had gone about his business. Greeting customers, placing books into the shelves, helping customers and receiving packages. The recipe for a completely ordinary, and to some, a dull day. And after a while, the shop found itself shrouded in a heavy silence.
Though, a silence that was welcomed in the mind of the shop keeper. When hadn’t the exiled King welcomed silence as an old friend? Silence had been the Fables only companion for years to pass and years to come. Silence, ah the beauty of hearing nothing but your own heart beat and chest rising was an escape of sorts. No matter how strange it sounded, it was indeed an escape. An escape that to other seemed like a prison, a prison of oneself and all the thoughts that one harboured even the ones hidden away.
Perhaps it was the same for Won Bin as well. But the only difference was the fact that his most hidden thoughts to the outside world was always present to him. He never had a break towards the absolutely devastating thoughts of his former self and former life. And perhaps that was the reason he had gone and become, oh what was it the Mundane called it? Oh yes, an alcoholic. It was not a title he appreciated having, but in the eyes of other fables and mundanes he was probably an alcoholic. The smell of alcohol, mixed with the smell of his cigarettes, often lingered on his clothes giving him no way to hide. Not that he needed to either.
But a silence so golden never stays for long. Nothing good ever does and this time was no exception. It caught him off guard. The usually composed and stoic male flinched visibly with eyes widening as the door was yanked open and a person nearly fell in. Or did he actually fall in? He mused as he had managed to compose himself again, silently taking in the visage of the person in front of him.
And it didn’t take him long until he realised exactly what he was dealing. A fable, a police officer at that. His nose scrunched slightly until the other finally realized he was no longer alone. “No, I don’t.” He simply replied and closed his book. It seemed that there was nothing further for him to do besides sitting there and awaiting what the other was to do. A rather uncomfortable feeling, however, shot through him. Fellow fables had never been his cup of tea. Not then, not now.