CREATURE

・chapter 29・

Asya's internal monologue went absolutely haywire in the precious moments she stood waiting outside the door. Up until that point she'd been caught in some disoriented haze, but it didn't take long for everything to start feeling terrifyingly real once she finished knocking.

Her body gave a sudden jerk and eyes widened, like she'd finally woken from some prolonged hallucination, and her pulse began to race with newfound fervor. What in the name of all things logical and reasonable was she doing?

Perhaps she'd gone totally insane over the last few days, because there sure as hell was no other rational explanation as to why she thought traipsing up to the sixth floor after weeks of lecturing herself about staying as far away from him as possible was a remotely good idea. Her mind started conjuring a few distressing scenarios, starting with the fact that it was the early hours of the morning and he might not even be awake, or even worse, what if he had a girl-

The door opened, revealing him, alone, in sweatpants and a worn-out hoodie, a slightly bored expression toying with his features. She gaped like a fish out of water, her mind reeling uncontrollably. How the hell did she even begin explaining this?

His expression softened a little when he saw her, those icy eyes losing some of their sharp edges as he stepped aside to let her in. Wordlessly she lowered her gaze and slipped past him, blinking as she stepped into the brightness of the entryway.

The apartment was significantly bigger than hers, consisting of an open-plan kitchen with a dining area to the side and a large living space at the far end. To her left was a long passage with some doors off to the side, presumably bedrooms. And, like most dancers she knew with the noteworthy exception of Julian, he was neat.

Painfully, evidently, and meticulously neat, within an inch of hairsplitting, overfine perfectionism. There wasn't a single dirty dish in sight, nothing on any of the counters or surfaces, and everything, down to the books on the shelf in the living room, seemed to be arranged to some sort of pattern. Although, the one element noticeably out of place were the stacks of unopened boxes that took up most of the dining area. Whatever she'd expected his apartment to look like, what she found didn't quite live up to the turbulent image she'd constructed of him.

She turned back to face him, ready to begin explaining and excusing, but he cut her off.

'What happened?' he asked hoarsely.

Right, she'd forgotten she probably looked like death warmed up. But instead of judgement over her bedraggled state, she found traces of real, undisguised worry in his face. His brow was slightly furrowed and the color had drained from his skin, and he was watching her, waiting for a response to his blunt question.

'I think,' she whispered. 'I think I fainted.'

His jaw clenched and a muscle in his temple twitched, right before he brushed past her into the kitchen. She could have sworn she heard him swear under his breath.

'Sit.' he ordered over his shoulder, pointing to the kitchen counter.

His tone indicated that he didn't want to be argued with, so she slid into one of the seats and decided she was grateful to be off her feet just in case she fainted again. Wide-eyed, she watched as he opened the fridge, took out a bowl, and stuck it in the microwave.

While he did look somewhat disheveled, it didn't seem like he'd been asleep. She couldn't help but wonder why he would be awake at such an unusual hour and figured some harmless questioning could perhaps fill the silence.

'Were you awake?' she asked.

'Can't sleep.' he replied, filling a glass with water before sliding it to her over the quartz countertop.