Old Long Since

Surviving the traffic of December 31st was a miracle, Kafka felt a sense of pride in being one of those who managed to make it. You must be wondering why a woman from New York City rushed herself in the bustling road to go back to the countryside of Felton, Delaware. Kafka, as careless as she is, didn't bother booking a plane ticket nor tried to reserve a bus ticket for it. Sabotaging the whole 'going back home for New Year's' was her plan in the first place. She made a vow to herself to not go back any longer. Her job as a journalist was enough to make her life a bit interesting but mostly because it pays the bills.

This time, she was forced to go back. Her brother told her that he will be proposing to her girlfriend and he wants everyone in the family to witness it. Kafka didn't understand the premise of love or relationship. She believes that being in a relationship is some sort of capitalism. Regardless, Kafka still loves her brother and if going back to see him propose means to support him, she will do it. Unfortunately, the universe seemed to have other plans.

"Of course It has to be a blizzard."

Now, stuck in the middle of nowhere with raging snow on sight she had no choice but to make a stop. The beauty of the 21st century is that modern things are everywhere, which Kafka gladly has. She opened her phone and searched on maps. She is somewhere in Philadelphia, which is five hours away from Delaware. Kafka is prone to such misfortune, this isn't her first time getting stranded, there's this one time when she got stuck in an elevator for about an hour before she was released. She cried the whole time in the elevator.

She again searched up on google maps for any place she could stay for a while. Luckily, there's an old diner nearby she can stay at, it's perfect since Kafka is also hungry. Upon parking near the entrance, she noticed the "open" sign was lit outside, giving her the hope of staying there for a while. The exterior bore the scars of countless seasons, with a faded, peeling coat of paint that once might have been a vibrant hue. The sign, displaying the name of the diner in bold, rusted letters, barely clinging to the post that had weathered years of harsh elements. The bell chimed as she entered, dim, overhead pendant lights cast a warm and mellow glow, creating pockets of shadow that added to the overall sense of mystery. The counter, an elongated expanse of faded formica, bore the scars of countless mugs and plates and behind it was a man, sleeping. Long, dark eyelashes framed his eyes, casting a delicate shadow on his cheeks.

He looks like a main character from a book, Kafka thought.

One thing that Kafka's family upholds is manners. Whether it be when they have guests, when going to an event on time, or when someone's sleeping you should not wake them up. It has always been the family's mantra. Well, in this case, Kafka doesn't care, to which she called out to the stranger sleeping behind the counter.

"Excuse me?"

No response.

"Hello?"

The man grunted, blinked his eyes for a while, then raised his head begrudgingly. He stood up and stared at the woman who woke him out of his slumber. His tired hazel eyes are seeping through, and his brown hair having a bedhead is prominent enough to see.

"Do you work here?" Kafka asked as she leaned herself at the counter trying to see if there's any menu written somewhere.

The man stifled a yawn before answering, "I was waiting..."

"For customers?" She asked impatiently,

He tilted his head and said, "I don't work here."

As confusing as everything was with that conversation, Kafka tried her best to be respectful. She tucked her dark, short hair behind her ear to compose herself as a sort of mannerism whenever she's agitated.

"My name is Kafka Edelweiss. I was heading to Delaware but got stranded then I saw this diner, so I thought I could stay over for a bit and eat... However, it seems like nobody is here besides you." She stated as she's trying her best to explain her situation.

The man who was supposed to introduce himself back, suddenly stood up, wide awake. He went over the counter and a sudden bloodlust came over the stranger. He is watching the window outside where there are two cars arriving as well.

"Kafka was it?" He said not looking at her, but straight at the window. "You need to hide. Now."

Confused by the sudden change of events, she can't help herself but be curious about the situation. Kafka wants to pry, she can't help it as it's in her personality as a journalist whenever something awry or unusual is happening, she wants to know what it is.

"What's happening? Is there something going on?"

"Go Hide!" He exclaimed impatiently. His eyes didn't falter.

Kafka followed him as it seems to be a matter of great importance. She ducked behind the counter and tried to listen to whatever was going on. The bell chimed, two or maybe four people entered based on the steps Kafka was hearing. She thought It may just be the cold wind entering but the air thickened when those other people came in.

"We were told you have the goods." A man with a Russian accent spoke with a low voice. Kafka shivers, as this makes her perfectly aware of what situation she's in.

One thing for sure is clear, this is not a diner.

"Though, I know what you are, Sasha." The Russian man continued. Kafka couldn't see what's going on, but apparently the guy she was talking to is named Sasha. Due to her nerves telling her to look, she peeked beyond the counter and saw Sasha surrounded by four men in black coats. Two of them have rifles and the other two probably have other weapons too. This is not how Kafka imagined her New Year's gonna be.

"You're the rat in the group, aren't you." As he finished those sentences, the guy pointed his gun.

Kafka was raised by his father, a policeman. She was thought to have principles, manners, and what is right and wrong. Expectations were made and need to be met. But you see, Kafka was not like her father, she was just a girl who loves to write stories and tell everyone about it. Things such as doing the right thing doesn't really matter to her. Though, at this moment, she wonders why she risked everything for a stranger she only met a minute ago.

She dived from behind the counter and pushed Sasha out of the pointed gun, both of them thud at the floor making everyone startled. Sasha composed himself immediately which gave him an opening. He responded quickly revealing his hand resting on the concealed weapon beneath his jacket. The once serene diner became a battleground, chairs toppling and the metallic tang of gunpowder. Sasha moved with a lethal precision, his every step a dance of survival. The coated figures, equally adept, unleashed a barrage of bullets. The diner's windows rattled with each deafening gunshot.

Kafka ran through behind a corner and shielded herself with a table as fast as she could. In the chaos, Sasha's strategic prowess became evident. He utilized the diner's layout, turning the space into a labyrinth. One by one, the assailants fell, their dark coats stained with the price of their dangerous pursuit. The man met Sasha's unwavering gaze. The diner, now a somber witness to the clash, fell into an eerie silence as the final gunshot echoed through the air. The last man crumpled to the floor, a silent farewell painted across his lifeless eyes.

Sasha, standing amidst the aftermath, surveyed the scene with a stoic resolve. The coated figures, now nothing more than fallen shadows. Kafka was a bare witness to the happenings inside the diner. She grabbed her shivering arms. This must be a dream she thought.

"What the hell was that?" Sasha, who is now covered in blood, turned to her with annoyance in his face. "You could've been killed!"

"You should be saying 'thank you'!" Kafka said with noticeable quivering in her voice.

He calmed himself and looked at the shivering girl. This must be her first time hearing guns being used. Sasha is aware that such occurrences are not suited to everyone, especially to a normal person like her. He crouched near her and held both of her hands which made Kafka surprised.

"W-what are you doing?" A flush of red covered Kafka's cheeks bewildered by the sudden act.

"I'm sorry you had to see all that. Also, thank you." Sasha stated, looking at her shivering hands as he's trying to calm it down.

Kafka stared at the man splattered with blood. It is indeed unusual of her to risk her life, she must be getting insane. Though, she was glad he was safe. His droopy hazel eyes are staring at her quivering hands. Questions rushed through Kafka's head, a lot of things boggled her mind but all those went away when Sasha stood up.

He took the coated guys one by one at the back of the diner, it appears that this diner has an incinerator in which he put the men to burn. After all of it was done, he went back inside.

"The snowstorm is gone." He remarked.

Kafka noticed his changed clothes. He looks more decent now.

"Do you need a lift?" She asked.

"Really? You trust me enough to go with you?" Sasha is baffled by the sudden suggestion and curious enough to know.

"You did save my life. You could've run and left me, but you didn't..." She uttered, looking into him "...You're nice enough to spare me."

Sasha couldn't help but chuckle at the premise. He smirked for a bit, then continued the questions.

"Aren't you scared of me?"

"No. Why should I?" Her dark gray eyes fluttered with so much resolve, curiosity folding her eyes.

Sasha was taken aback by the sudden honesty this girl is showing. Most of the time, fear is the only thing he sees in everyone's eyes. But to her, it was something else, he couldn't put his finger on it. Little does he know, those desperate dark eyes already entangled him.

Both of them left the diner traveling forward to Delaware, wherein Sasha decided he'll just drop at any nearby town they'll encounter. So does begin the weird roadtrip of an alleged assassin and a journalist. Awkward silence lingered before Sasha spoke.

"I was supposed to die..." He started "...I compromised my mission and I was waiting for them to kill me. I couldn't risk the information I have so-"

"You sacrificed yourself." Kafka finished his sentence.

"Then, you came in. I had to change my plan after that."

"Thanks, again, for that."

Sasha hid his smile as he looked out of the car window.

"So, you're a killer?" Kafka asked while looking at the road.

"Yes. Assasin." He stated, as he turned on the radio.

...3...2...1! HAPPY NEW YEAR! *Plays Auld Lang Syne*

"Welp, there goes my holiday." Kafka sighed.

Sasha was always working, never was a day his hands were covered in red. Holidays don't exist on his calendar, it did not bother him if he missed out. It baffled him as the next words came out of his mouth.

"Do you want to celebrate it with me?" He asked with conviction to the woman who sacrificed her life to his.

Kafka suddenly stopped the car, she gazed at the man's eyes marveled by his suggestion "New Year's with an assassin. Sure."

He chuckled before he continued.

"I see the gas station from here. We can just buy some drinks there."

As they arrived at the gas station, they both got their drinks and sat at the top of the car. They cheered their bottles up and drank to the new year's song.

"You gave me a new life, Kafka. And I will be forever grateful."

Kafka listened to him whilst being distracted by his hazel eyes. It has seen a lot of things that she couldn't fathom. All she could think at that moment was to uncover who he was. She couldn't care less about the killing, or the fact that he was an assassin, she was enamored of the man who has death at his door. This may be odd to some, but to Kafka, it is a solemn bravery. As peculiar as it sounds, she find it attractive.

"Ask me out." She blurted out.

"What?"

Before she knew it, Kafka leaned herself to meet his lips and to her surprise he kissed him back. The lingering taste of beer and smoke nestled on her lips, as they finished she again looked him in the eye and said "Ask me out."

Sasha heartily laughed as he couldn't expect for a girl he just met a few hours ago to ask him out, or even kiss him.

"You barely know me, Kafka"

"That's why I want to get to know you, Sasha"

"Sasha is not my real name."

Sasha is not ready for such commitment. His line of work won't let him live a normal life, even though he did like the raven who managed to catch him as her prey. And it pains him to see her disappointed, he wants to hold her, protect her dark fluttering eyes from every stain in this world. But he couldn't.

"I know that," Kafka said sheepishly. "I just want to make sure you'll retaliate more than enough so I can move on." she uttered as she drank her beer.

The music of auld lang syne lingered on the car's radio, as both of them sat in silence as the snow started to fall from above. The bittersweet taste of the beer as well as the aching pain inside her mixed like a milkshake ready for throwup, though she couldn't do that. Not in front of the guy who rejected her.

"This will be my stop." Sasha stated as he drank the last drop of his bottle. "I'll be going then." He uttered as he jumped down the car.

Kafka hates goodbyes, but she was determined to see him again, the grim reaper who fought death. Next time around, she will not wait for the grim reaper, instead she'll bust out his door and catch him first.

"Hey!" Kafka shouted on top of her lungs.

Sasha turned his back at the raven who's smiling at him from ear to ear.

"I'll be seeing you again, Sasha!" Certainty fluttered Kafka's eyes.

To which the reaper chuckled, this has been a great start of his year he thought.

"Happy New Year to you, Kafka."