why do i suffer

Puck sighed from his seat in the mafia headquarters, gaze fixed on the man across from him who so diligently pored over the list of remaining villagers, humming to himself every once in a while ; Puck noticed red ink bleeding through the paper where the Whisperer had crossed out that night's target.

Eventually, the whisperer looked up, and as Puck felt the heat creeping up his neck as a slow, deliberate smile stretched across the Whisperer's face. "You needin' anything, Puck?" he asked, voice low and steady, and Puck blinked. "No, I just -" Puck swallowed, "I wanted to see you..."

Pressing his lips together, the whisperer rose, taking slow, deliberate steps towards Puck.

Stopping in front of Puck, the whisperer perched on the armrest, as Puck could only follow his movements. "Puck, you do realize we can't keep at this much longer, right?" is all he said, and he looked tired, weary. "You have the Yakuza here; he can look after you, yeah?"

Puck just nodded, though his heart still felt heavy. He cared about the Yakuza, sure, but the Whisperer...

Well, the Whisperer was shy, seemingly sensitive when Puck had first met him - a gentleman, almost.  Puck cared for him the same way he was sure the Whisperer cared. Yes, the crimes he had committed were... well, illegal, but he reached out to the village, he talked to them, made them smile!

And he made Puck smile, too - well, at least up until what he had just said now.

"I know it'll be hard, Puck," he murmured, kneeling down so he was on Puck's level. "I don't wanna end this either, but it's just... too much of a risk. Try to understand?"

Puck nodded again, his throat thick, and he had to swallow again. The Whisperer pressed a hand to Puck's face as he kissed his cheek briefly, Puck lifting his own hand up to meet the Whisperer's. "I will be okay, Whisperer. But please," he paused, taking a deep breath. "Please, don't forget about me."

The Whisperer smiled back, reserved. "I could never forget about you, Puck."