WICKED | WILLIAM FRANKLYN-MILLER

⟶ 5 | MORI MORI

[LOVEY]

⚘

CREEP WOKE ME UP BY SLAMMING HIS FIST AGAINST THE HEADBOARD.

At the loud cracking nose, my body jolted into consciousness, and my eyes painfully adjusted to the bright sunlight. My head was spinning. My back was aching. Creep was staring down at me, a dull expression on his face.

It took me a moment to realize I'd fallen off the bed and that he wasn't eleven feet tall. I wouldn't be surprised if he was, honestly, because his ego was big enough to work as stilts.

"What do you want?" I groaned, rolling onto my stomach, "I'm sleeping."

I didn't have to see his face to know he was glaring at me. "Get up, please."

"No."

"The phone was ringing."

"Answer it, then." I mumbled into the ground.

I felt dizzy and I felt hungover. I didn't even drink yesterday. Perhaps the thought of Creep watching me sleep was preying on my unconscious (I am 100% sure he watched me sleep. He's weird and dedicated to his job).

"What do you think they'll say when a random man answers the phone?" I heard the man say from above me, "they'll think you were entertaining a guest."

If my arms were double jointed, I would have flashed him my middle finger. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, you pervert, you were implying that I'd cheat," I spat out. Hearing him smear disloyalty over my name gave me the motivation to crawl up from the floor, using the mattress as a railing. "I'm not a cheater."

Creep looked unamused. "I never said you were. I said that's what they'd think."

"Ah, yes," I mumbled, stumbling towards the phone, "God forbid the receptionist thinks I'm sleeping with sod like you."

I didn't bother to glare at him, but I swore I heard him clear his throat while I picked the phone up from it's hook. Blinking my eyes in exhaustion, I dialed the number for the lobby with careful detail. It started to ring.

When the call finally went through, I noticed Creep had thrown open my wardrobe door and was shuffling through it. I ignored him.

"Hi, bonjour," I yawned, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand, "I'm so sorry, but I think I missed a call?"

I heard a woman's voice from the other end. "Oui, Madame, your caller has left a message..."

While I listened to the lady recite a string of words into my ear, I let my eyes follow the man across the room. He had taken my creme, tweed set off of it's hanger, laying it on the bed after careful inspection. He'd gone to get a pair of heels by the time I'd hung up the phone. I wasn't sure why he'd picked out my outfit (at least, that's what I assumed he was doing), but it wasn't the worst thing in the world.

I squinted my eyes, observing him for one last brief second. He was wearing a navy button-down shirt, black trousers, and shiny, black shoes. I wondered where he stored his clothes. I wondered when he had time to change.

"My friend called," I said.

He was flicking the lint off of my suit-coat. "I know."

"They want to know if I'm free to visit them."

"I assume you're talking about Mori Fauna-Blanc."

I squinted my eyes, a pang in my chest signaling a sense of alarm. It only took me a few seconds to remember our conversation from yesterday. He knew everything about me, including who I was friends with.