Carpe Diem (Sumettikul's Universe Two)

{13} No!

"if i'm being honest, i ain't over you yet" - Niall Horan

guys tomorrow is my birthday so i will update if im not too busy, promise also bui is such a good person wow and bible's selca🤭😩

anygays, enjoy luves～(^з^)-♡
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Chapter Begins Here
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Holy fuck.

He's here, gazing at me with an unnerving blank expression, holding a gun. My subconscious swoons into a dead faint, and I don't think even smelling salts will bring him back.

I blink repeatedly at Alex as my mind goes into overdrive. How did he get in? Where's Jeff? Holy shit!

Where is Jeff?

A creeping cold fear grips my heart, and my scalp prickles as each and every follicle on my head tightens with terror. What if he's harmed him? I start breathing rapidly as adrenaline and bone-numbing dread course through my body. Keep calm, keep calm-I repeat the mantra over and over in my head.

He tilts his head to one side, regarding me as if I'm an exhibit in a freak show. Jeez, I'm not the freak here.

It feels like an hour has passed while I process all this, though in reality it is only a split second. Alex's expression remains blank, and his appearance is as scruffy and ill-kempt as ever. He's still wearing that grubby trench coat, and he looks desperately in need of a wash. His hair is greasy and lank, plastered against his head, and his eyes are a dull brown, cloudy, and vaguely confused.

Despite the fact that my mouth has no moisture in it whatsoever, I attempt to speak. "Hi. Alex, isn't it?" I rasp. He smiles, but it's a disturbing curl of his lip rather than a true smile.

"He speaks," He whispers, and his voice is soft and hoarse at the same time, an eerie sound.

"Yes, I speak," I say gently as if to a child. "Are you here alone?" Where is Jeff? My heart pounds at the thought that he might have come to some harm.

His face falls, so much so that I think he's about to burst into tears-he looks so forlorn.

"Alone," He whispers. "Alone." And the depth of sadness in that one word is heart wrenching. What does he mean? I am alone? He's alone? He's alone because he's harmed Jeff? Oh...no...I have to fight the choking fear clawing at my throat as tears threaten.

"What are you doing here? Can I help you?" My words are a calm, gentle interrogation despite the suffocating fear in my throat. His brow furrows as if he's completely befuddled by my questions. But he makes no violent move against me. His hand is still relaxed around his gun. I take a different tack, trying to ignore my tightening scalp.

"Would you like some tea?" Why am I asking him if he wants tea? It's Dan's answer to any emotional situation, resurfacing inappropriately. Jeez, he'd have a fit if he saw me right this minute. His army training would have kicked in, and he'd have disarmed him by now. He's not actually pointing that gun at me. Perhaps I can move. He shakes his head and tilts it from side to side as if stretching his neck.

I take a deep precious lungful of air, trying to calm my panicked breathing, and move toward the kitchen island. He frowns as if he can't quite understand what I am doing and shifts a little so he is still facing me. I reach the kettle and with a shaking hand fill it from the faucet. As I move, my breathing eases. Yes, if he wanted me dead, surely he would have shot me by now. He watches me with an absent, bemused curiosity. As I switch on the kettle, I'm plagued by the thought of Jeff. Is he hurt? Tied up?

"Is there anyone else in the apartment?" I ask tentatively.

He inclines his head the other way, and with his right hand-the hand not holding the revolver-he grabs a strand of his greasy hair and fiddling with it, pulling. It's obviously a nervous habit, and while I am distracted by this, I am struck once again by how much he resembles me, difference is his lips and chestnut colored hair. I hold my breath, waiting for his answer, the anxiety building to an almost unbearable pitch.