Altair x Pink Eyed!Male!Reader - 9

A/N: hello babs it’s been way too long. I know I know, I left you on a cliffhanger. My bad. Anyways, school got me fucked up man and no ideas or inspiration so, let's just jump right on in shall we?
Sorry if I made Altair ooc.
Key: in description
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He can't find him. He can't fucking find him. Where could he possibly be?
Altair knew something was off. First, a horse was gone from the stables, even though no one was sent on a mission from what he knows. He asked Al Mualim, confirmed his knowledge. Second, (M/n) wasn't in his room. He knew he always stayed in his room unless he needed to be somewhere. He knocked three times, no answer, entered. He noticed a crumpled paper on the floor, kneeling to pick it up and straightened it out on the desk near him. He noticed the signature, his name. It wasn't even his handwriting, (M/n) should've known what it looked like. “Fuck!” Altair shouted, slamming his fist on the desk, clatter from various objects echoed from the force.
“What is it, Altair?” Malik asked, almost coincidentally walking by.
“(M/n)’s gone, Malik. I have to find him.”
“He's gone?” Malik asked as he stepped closer. The crumpled paper Altair held was pushed into his chest, his hand grabbing it. His eyes inspected the wavy words. “First, does Al Mualim actually know you two are a thing?”
“No, I doubt he knows I even continued speaking with him after the mission,” Altair answered, crossing his arms over his chest. Malik nodded. “Notice the handwriting. It’s not mine nor that’s my signature. Someone set him up.”
“Yes, I see that. ‘Meet me on the highest tower in Jerusalem.’ God knows if he's still on top of that tower.”
“I have to find him, Malik, I must.”
Malik sighed, like talking to a wall, he thought. “Do what you must, Altair, just try not to get yourself killed, yes?” He said as he set the letter down.
“No promises. Safety and peace, brother.”
“Safety and peace.”
* * *
“Dammit, (M/n), where are you?!” Altair hissed. He knew Jerusalem by heart, immediately riding to the tallest tower. He climbed up the tower, finding a discarded cape and a used needle, a few droplets of blood next to it. Like a game of cat and mouse, he thought. He noticed the horse (M/n) must have taken to find ‘him’, taking it to Jerusalem’s bureau to be sent back. He asked around on information of (M/n)’s disappearance, only to find out how seldom he was sent on missions in this area. He then asked around the city if anyone had noticed a man with strawberry pink eyes with a group of men. Luck was on his side, as few gave directions of where they went. He blessed them, running off to find his missing love.
* * *
He's underground; he hates this. It’s almost cliché, kidnapping someone and taking them underground. He climbs, slides, whatever to avoid people and obstacles. Anger boils inside of him. He takes this out on guards patrolling catwalks, in towers, on top of structures by killing them.
He feels close to his target. He smells strong iron – blood. If they fucking killed him, he thinks. Anger reaches its boiling point – he’s fired up. He hears screams, loud yelling in forms of questions. He sneaks towards the door that is in front of those noises, he found his target. He quietly opens the door enough to see that it has a small corridor. He sneaks inside, shutting the door behind him. He scans the room behind the wall that divides him from his target. He notices there are no guards occupying him. Excellent. He unsheathes his hidden blade, making the move. He covers the interrogator’s mouth, pushing the blade into his back. He lets him fall to the floor.
(M/n) weakly looks up at him. He’s bleeding everywhere. Old and new cuts scatter across his body, the newest ones on his collarbone bleed weakly. His vision is weak. “A… Altair..” he breathes, his breath hollow. Altair says nothing, breaking the bonds that held him in the chair he sat on. “Altair-“
“Quiet, there are guards nearby.”
“It’s you..”
“Yes, it's me. Hush.”
(M/n) smiles weakly as his arm is wrapped around Altair’s shoulder, feeling his hand on his waist. “I missed you.”
“… I missed you, too.”