The Man With The Gloves (mxmxmxm)

18. Should I stay or should I go?

Mais elle était du monde où les plus belles choses/ Ont le pire destin / Et rose, elle a vécu ce que vivent les roses/ L'espace d'un matin." (Malherbe, Consolation à Monsieur du Périer)*

Akhenaton was running so fast, it was hard to even keep up with him. Fortunately, they didn't have to run for a long time, for they were close to the Institute already.

Although they weren't saying anything, Fayez could feel the anxiety radiating off his new roomate. Fortunately for both of them, the run was making him a little breathless, preventing him from asking questions that would have surely make the prefect even more on edge.

As they started climbing up the stairs leading to the corridor where their room was, Fayez tripped on his own foot and would have cracked his skull open, hadn't been Akhenaton quick enough to catch him by the elbow.

"For God's sake, how many times will I have to save your clumsy ass, newbie?" Akhenaton grumbled in a non too kind voice that perfectly matched his words.

Without sparing the prefect a single glance, Fayez wordlessly tore his arm off Akhenaton's grip, much to the latter's dismay. Thankfully, the prefect chose not to comment on that, but Fayez knew that it would give the brunette some material for ulterior thinking.

As if the prefect wondering how on Hell Fayez got the burn on his stomach wasn't enough already.

Don't act like you care, stupid Ake Fayez thought, although he had no intent of showing how hurt he still felt by the prefect's previous coldness toward him.

They eventually arrived in front of the three - no, four - men's bedroom, and Akhenaton dashed into the room, not bothering to knock on the door first, liked he owned the goddamn place.

He then stood motionless in the corridor, and Fayez had to go past him to see what he was looking at.

The sight was unnerving. Zephyr was laying on the bed, looking smaller than usual under the heavy blanket. His face was ghostly, his skin was much paler than usual, and there were deep purple circles under his eyes.

The vampire gave the two newcomers an exhausted smile, and that's when Fayez knew for sure that something was wrong with the most easy-going of his new roomates.

Sure, Zephyr was a bit more closed-off than one could be lead to believe, given his charming manners. Still, Fayez had never seen him give someone a fake smile. If he wasn't feeling like it, the prefect simply didn't smile. He never tried to cover up a lack of sleep or motivation.

And yet, it was now obvious to the three other men that the blondie was putting up a front, in order not to worry them any further.

Except, it had, of course, the opposite effect of what was intended. Akhenaton was currently shaking with nerves, and Ashur didn't appear to be doing much better, biting his lower lip to the point where it was bleeding.

"What's wrong, Zeph?" Fayez asked timidly, as he couldn't tear off his worry gaze from the slender man curling on the king-size bed.

"It's nothing, he's just a little tired" Akhenaton declared in a crisp voice. "You should just leave, Fayez. Zephyr needs to rest."

"It's my room too, now!  Why should I be the one to leave?" Fayez protested, earning him a raised eyebrow from Akhenaton, as if the latter was saying "You're really asking me that?"

Ashur threw his lover a disapproving glare, before turning to Zephyr, his expression softening.

"Actually", he said in a calm voice, although the tension in his shoulders suggested that he was feeling anything but calm. "I think Zephyr is old enough to decide who should stay and who should leave while he's resting."