"She drew stars around his scars."
As the dawn broke, casting its warm hues through Chloe's bedroom curtains, she stirred from her slumber, apprehensive about what the day might bring.
Stretching out her hand towards the fabric, she marveled at how the sunlight filtered through the gaps between the fibers. The touch of the material beneath her fingers was comforting. As the sun gradually illuminated the room, she felt a sense of renewal wash over her, as if absorbing a bit of the morning's golden light into her very being.
Wait, who opened the window?
It might be that unknown savior; well, not unknown anymore, he has a name, thought Chloe.
As Chloe stirred awake, she let out a yawn and rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the sleepiness. Slowly, she sat up in bed and pushed the warm blanket aside.
As her vision cleared, "The fuck!" She screamed to see HIM there.
He was seated on the couch, one arm draped casually over the armrest, his form relaxed but his gaze intense as he watched her.
Chloe's heart raced as her palm rested against it, wondering, 'How long had he been there? Did he see her sleeping?'
He had changed his attire into a formal, olive-green shirt with long sleeves, paired with black cargo pants; a black mask covered the lower half of his face, a feature that irritated her.
"Why are you here?" Chloe asked flatly, getting out of her bed.
Before he could utter a word, or even react, she held up her hand, her index finger pointing at him in a halting gesture. "Wait, not that. Tell me, do you live here? Have you always been here?"
If he'd been here all along, how come she hadn't seen him before? Not just seen, how come she hadn't sensed his presence? She should've felt something, right?
"Yes," Neil answered, rising to his feet.
"Then why—" Her words were cut short.
In a flash, Neil's long, weathered finger reached out and pressed against her lips, his touch gentle yet firm. She froze, feeling a strange rush of tingles spreading through her. She didn't understand why she felt this way every time he touched her, but she couldn't deny that she liked it.
"You talk too much," Neil remarked softly, stepping closer, and locking eyes with her. "I'm here to apologize for the last night." As he spoke, he wiped away a dried drool stain from her lip with his thumb.
She had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze; he seemed genuinely apologetic, and she could see it in his eyes.
"I-I... Um... It's..." She stumbled over her words, her hands falling on either of her sides, fidgeting, she sighed. "It's okay."
"And you were right," he spoke, with his dark hair falling messily over his forehead, took a step back, his touch withdrawing as if it left a physical mark on her. She tried to hide her disappointment, but he always had a knack for reading her expressions.
"What do you mean?" Her voice trembled slightly, betraying her uncertainty.
"James's death, the attacks... they're all because of me," he confessed, his eyes growing somber, his gaze piercing through her defenses.
Her heart sank. She had suspected his involvement in her troubles, but hearing him admit it sent a chill down her spine.
She watched him quietly. He approached a stack of papers sitting on the couch where he'd been seated earlier.
He tapped the pile gently, then turned to her with a serious look on his face. "Everything you need is right here. Don't bother asking how I got it; that's a long story we don't have time for," he said, meeting her gaze with a blank expression. "You better hurry; you're late for work. I'll fill you in on everything when you get back."
"Late?" she whispered, her eyes darting to the clock hanging on the wall.
It read 9:45 A.M.!
She'd overslept by an hour, leaving her with just fifteen minutes to make it to Brew Haven for her morning shift.
Turning to ask if he'd come along, she froze, realizing he was gone, vanished into thin air along with the documents. "Will you..." Her voice trailed off, lost as he disappeared. "Come with me," she muttered to the empty room.
"Guess not." Rolling her eyes, she groaned, there was no way in hell, she was going to be able to take a shower, brush her hair and teeth, get dressed, gather her belongings and shove them in her bag, and then make a dash for the subway all within thirteen minutes.
To hell with all of this!
She decided to skip a shower this morning and the light dusting of makeup that she usually wore to look at least somewhat acceptable and head off to the coffee house.
Well, three cheers for looking unruly this morning, ha!
Emerging from the bathroom with a loud bang, Chloe ran a brush through her tangled hair, wincing as she worked out the knots.
She hurriedly slipped into a pair of snug black denim jeans and threw on a blue and white checked shirt. As she rummaged through her closet, she came across the dress and flats she wore to her grandfather's funeral, neatly folded as if they were waiting for her.
With a sigh, Chloe hoped today would be smooth sailing, devoid of any unexpected twists. But knowing her luck, that was wishful thinking.
Normally, she'd indulge in a bit of self-pity, stewing in thoughts about how miserable her life was. But today, she couldn't spare the time or energy for that. Hastily, she gathered her belongings, stuffing them angrily into her bag, and headed for the door of her apartment.
Her gaze flickered to the kitchen, then to the clock. She decided to skip breakfast; she could grab something at the coffee shop.
Snatching up her keys to lock the door behind her, she pulled it open with force, ready to leave. Just as she was about to step out, an unexpected visitor startled her.
He stood there, as if about to knock, but his presence had already announced itself. She gasped in surprise. "Ace?"