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"It was made from a bullet," James had said when presenting Ling with another expensive suit last night.

"Oh, okay then. Makes sense," was what Ling decided to go with. They were standing by James's car, as the club owner had not so much asked, but more firmly ushered him over.

Ling might have argued against the kind persuasion were it not for the fact that Isaiah Pell might've tried speaking to him again as the party bid their goodbyes and left the building. He decided to go with the lesser of two evils. Ling would never tell Junhui he'd gone with the lesser of two evils because they were attractive and had dimples.

James, though, peculiar as he was, hadn't actually tried any creep moves, despite all the times they'd been alone together. With all the experiences he'd had lately with grown-ass men, Ling was grateful.

"Not to pry," said Ling with mock coyness, examining the designer black jacket and silk shirt. "But may I ask why there is a bullet hole in these items of clothing?"

The club owner who was actually only twenty-four remained as urbane as ever. "Someone shot them."

Ling eyed him askance. "Someone shot your clothes?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"They were particularly disgruntled."

"Was it because you were answering their questions monosyllabically, like this, by any chance?"

The taller man grinned. "Unfortunately, I had to let them go. They were not forthright in their application."

Uh huh. "So they shot you?"

"They missed."

And so for some reason, Ling then accepted James's offer to drive him home again. The proposition had been to mend the suit. It's not that Ling had been thinking other things, though James seemed like he enjoyed messing with him.

So maybe Ling had been thinking other things. But that was only because the owner of the Lonely Hearts nightclub could be so ambiguous. It had been a little over two weeks since he'd broken up with Xavier, and so he definitely wasn't looking for another relationship anyway. That didn't mean he couldn't notice the other man's looks.

Ling sat in his workshop, satisfied with his designs. He hoped this one would be as big of a hit as his other lines had been, and wondered if Wyatt had had any success in finding a model. Ling had modelled his own clothes for the site, and he'd used Wyatt a few times, though he always felt a little uncomfortable modelling his own creations. He liked photographing them on fresh faces; to Ling, it just looked better.

He then took James's clothes and got to work on mending them. He still wasn't sure whether James had been kidding about it being a bullet hole, and it occurred to Ling that both had forgotten to exchange numbers. Ling guessed he'd just have to go over to the club when he was done then.

Yet the thing Ling's mind kept spinning back to was that moment, just after Isaiah stormed off, leaving him and James alone in the restaurant. Ling had definitely felt uncomfortable and riled up at the billionaire's vulgar advances, but the moment he'd locked eyes with James, something had felt...odd. Ling grumbled to himself. He didn't even know how to describe the sensation. Not bad in any way. But different, the atmosphere...even his body temperature. It was like a switch had been flicked. And then James had stepped so close to him with that all-encompassing gaze.

Ling needed to get out of his own head for a minute. Being early afternoon and yet to eat lunch, Ling took an uber to the main part of town, then walked down a cosier arcade architecturally designed to let nature run rampant and came to the Blue Pearl café. He hadn't been here for a few days, and almost missed the poncy bastard who ran it.

"Hey, breakup magnet, stop lurking at the doorway, you'll scare off the customers!" yelled Junhui, and Ling dismissed the notion of missing the man.

"You're just a bad human being," said Ling when he took a seat near the main counter.

Like usual, the place was busy, and seeing as Valentine's Day was around the corner, Junhui had been incredibly busy making a Valentine's-themed section for the menu, including baked sweets. This year though, there was an understandable dampening on the overall mood.

One year since the Heartbreak Killer first struck.

Ling tried not to think about it too much.

"You haven't been here for a while," said Junhui, sitting down opposite him after bringing him a strawberry smoothie and a turkey and avocado salad. Ling hadn't ordered anything yet, and though the smoothie made sense – being his second favourite cold drink to order – why this specific type of salad?

"Someone needs to make sure you incorporate enough of the food groups into your diet seeing as you sit in your little hovel stitching clothes all day," said Junhui.

Ling sipped his smoothie. "What a non-patronising way of describing my job. Thank you, lǎo pó."

Junhui scoffed, watching Ling drink. "How have you been Ā Ling ? Feeling all right? Sleeping well?"

"Yes Mother," retorted Ling. He knew Junhui was probably just worried about him, especially after that night, so Ling went for a more genuine answer. "I'm okay. Xavier kept trying to get in contact with me so I blocked him. I'm still worried he might show up, or already has, and Wyatt just hasn't told me. But the new line and this new modelling gig are keeping me busy. So really, I'm fine."

I've also been suffering stress-induced hallucinations and nightmares. Ling didn't include that.

Once they got their bickering and Junhui's scolding scrutiny out of the way, it was nice to properly catch up. They had been friends since preschool.

Before he left, Ling sneaked around Junhui and paid another staff member with cash. Junhui collected Ling's scarf and walked him to the door. Ling called another uber and got in, feeling something scrunch in his jeans' back pocket.

It was the fucking cash. Ling snapped his head up as the uber drove off, the last thing he saw being Junhui's grin as he flipped Ling off.

Ling paid the driver and got out, stomping across the street and over to his house. He didn't like giving drivers his exact address; several had tried hitting on him over the years. Did he seriously just give off fuckboy vibes or something?

So in his own world of grumbling about Junhui, Ling didn't notice until on his front path that there was someone waiting under the awning.

Almost as petite as him, around as tall, wearing a white turtleneck shirt under a leather jacket, and ripped jeans, the ethereally beautiful stranger dressed with style.

The man was scrolling through his phone before he looked back and noticed Ling.

"Oh, hey," said the stranger in a soft, accented English, fully turning to face him. "I was about to call Wyatt when no one answered the door. Are you Zhi Ling?"

"That depends. Who are you?"

The other man smiled, glancing back to the front door. "Right. Random person standing in front of your house. I'm Florent. I go to the same uni as Wyatt. We're in different departments, but he said you might be looking for models for a clothing line? When I heard it was for LZ Gear, I asked him if you'd be open to meeting with me. Did he tell you?"

Ling was about to say no, but his phone buzzed, and he saw it was from Wyatt. "I think he just did."

"Sorry."

Ling smiled. "No, it's fine. Do you want to come in? Or keep standing out here awkwardly?"

The stranger, or Florent, brushed his dark blond hair back. "If it's okay with you, I can stand awkwardly in your house instead. I promise I'm better in front of a camera. I actually have a pretty big following on my socials that I can show you if you want to see some shoots I've done?"

Ling unlocked the door and let Florent go first. "Sure, that sounds good." He led the other man to the dining table. "Would you like a drink? And yes, I am Ling by the way."

Florent smiled, plumping his defined cheekbones. "Thank you, Ling. I'd love one."

✦

The club was about to open and James re-donned his suit shirt as the woman who had been straddling his lap had left both their garments in a state of disarray. The twenty-year-old ex-virgin and college freshman was a good Christian girl from a good Christian family who was engaged to a good Christian boy.

James smirked as he picked up the girl's lace underwear she'd forgotten to take with her. Well, she had been a good Christian girl. Tempting pure souls was an amusing side hustle in-between punishing sinners. He put the garment in his desk drawer.

A knock came at the door.

"Come in."

Zeon, his new bouncer, stepped into his office. Even though he still wore the same annoying grin, at least this shell was aesthetically pleasing.

"Mr. Abel," said the aptly suited man who might've passed as a professional to the outside world. "There is a detective here to see the owner of the establishment. Something concerning the Heartbreak Killer."

James raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Is that so?"

"Should I let him in?" The daeva was evidently trying to hide a smile.

"Please do." This should be interesting. James hadn't left a body lying around for quite a while, and the one at this club, plus the one found in an alleyway not long ago, had not been his gruesome work. The Valentine Demon was still looking for the demonic sinner who had left the body without a heart by his fire exit.

The demon bouncer disappeared for a few moments, though returned with a young man in a business suit. A detective, was he? This pup looked barely out of infancy.

"Thank you, Mr. Abel, was it?—" James bowed his head. "—I'm Detective Brandt. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions regarding your club?"

"Of course not. Can I offer you a drink, Detective?" James gestured to his alcohol cabinet.

"No thank you. On the clock," answered the young man, taking out a notepad.

James invited him to take a seat, whilst he sat behind his desk. "What, Detective Brandt, would you like to know?" 

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Definitions:

lǎo pó = an informal way of addressing one's wife (obviously used sarcastically in Ling's instance)

Ā = a prefix/nick name good friends might add to each other's first name, especially if their friend's name is short.

And views of the 9 circles of Hell (the Inferno Plane):

~ Daci (who swears she'll again ease up on the author's notes)