Oblivion

Chapter 2: Still Impossible

Your mind was still reeling from the discovery of his tattoo, was it a coincidence or was it a desperate response from stress that an existing tattoo was morphed into an image you had seen a thousand times? The second explanation seemed more believable, you did just save a guy from dying.

You were still on the floor with him in your lap, listening to his breathing and happy to hear they weren't as shallow as before. Who hurt him and why did he come to YOU for help after he basically treated you like garbage?

He was just doing his job, Y/N.

Your arms tightened around him as a protective shiver ran through you...as if you could keep him away from the harm the world had prepared for him. You had a lot of questions and not enough answers but all of that could wait. Right now, you needed to get him off the floor and out of sight and then clean up all this blood so your parents wouldn't freak out.

Where could you put him though? Your apartment was way too far and you didn't exactly feel like answering a million questions from the taxi driver. Storage closet was out as well since there was no guarantee your parents wouldn't need some supplies during their shifts. Racking through your brain to find a place to hide, your eyes landed on your parents office.

It was like the golden name plate on the door glowed in the shadowy depths of the shop and it was calling your name. You carefully placed him on the ground and then stood up, almost buckling over since your legs had gone numb from supporting his heavy head.

You carefully walked to the office and twisted the knob, happy for once that your dad forgot to lock it. Swinging open the door, you were hit by the smell of your father: star anise and cinnamon. He was always chewing these homemade candies that he claimed were good for your teeth and gut — you had tried them once and spit it out all in the same breath — but the scent had become synonymous with him.

You shook your head and focused on the task at hand - finding the key. You carefully went through the drawers and checked inside the little pen holders but to no avail. All seemed lost when you suddenly remembered something that your dad had told you a long time ago.

Store your keys in your coffee. That's the last place they'll ever look.

You usually did not pay him any attention but you were glad you were able to recall that small tidbit of information.

You walked to the cupboard that housed the coffee pot and grabbed the small bag next to it. You gave it a small shake and grinned when you heard the sound of something more than just ground coffee. You opened the top and headed to the garbage can, not wanting to stick your bloody hands into your father's coffee, and shook it gently against your palm until the silver key dropped out.

Before you kissed the key and jumped around like a frog, you quickly put the bag of coffee back and then left the office. This key was the answer to all of your problems tonight. This key would help you hide the mess that was him.

When your parents had bought this shop, it came with an apartment above it, the old owner was a workaholic and didn't want to waste time commuting to and from work. Your parents rarely did nothing with the extra space, mostly using it as additional storage and if needed, space for guests but it mostly stayed empty.

You had told them to rent it out, make a little additional income each month but they refused, not wanting to deal with a stranger living above them.

You walked back out so you could figure out how to drag the guy up a flight of stairs but the spot you left him in was gone. You would've thought you had somehow conjured him up in your mind except for the very real blood that still stained the floor and your hands.

"Where did you go?" a raspy voice asked behind you, just as a cool metal settled against your throat. He had a knife and it was currently pressed against your throat!

"Is this how you treat all of your saviours?" you asked, hoping your voice concealed how scared you really were.

He chuckled, the sound as unsettling as you thought it would be, "you're kind of cocky for someone with a knife against their throat. Now, answer the question." His words had a bite to them as he pressed the blade deeper against your skin.

You carefully held up your hand, showing the key, "I went to grab this. It's a key to an apartment upstairs. Figured I could stash you there until you healed and disappeared from my life."

Silence filled the shop for a few heartbeats but your answer seemed to satisfy him as he released you and then tilted his chin towards the staircase that would lead you upstairs. You carefully took a few steps, him following so close behind you that his body heat enveloped you in its traitorous arms and distracted you so much that you missed a step.

His hands landed on your hips from behind to steady you, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to seduce me."

"My legs are not responding well because of someone who decided to take a nap on them."

He removed his hands but you could still feel the imprint of them, as if he had somehow branded you and suddenly, you missed them there. What was wrong with you? You just met the guy and he's threatened to kill you more than once yet you're falling over your feet for him.

Come on, Y/N. Get it together. Maybe your mother was right, you should get back into the dating scene because clearly it's been a while if you're having this type of a reaction but one thing was clear, you were not made to handle the likes of criminals that showed up at night covered in blood. Even if they were hot.

You made it to the door and quickly unlocked it, witnessing the many boxes that sat forgotten and littered throughout the barely used apartment. White sheets covered the old furniture, giving them a spooky appearance as if some tragedy had took place. Dust danced in the moonlight that filtered in through the crack of the stained yellow curtain.

"You expect me to stay here?" He asked in disgust behind you.

"Well, the alley behind the shop is also free," you quipped.

He grunted but didn't say another word, walking slowly throughout the rooms, clutching his side like it was going to burst open at any second. "It'll do."

He turned to you and raised his brows. "You got your phone?" 

You nodded.

"Keep it on you all times," he ripped the sheet from the couch and discarded it aside, then plopped down on old seats, dust clouding around him. You shuffled on your feet as you were eager go clean up the evidence of his visit downstairs but you were also curious about him. Why you? Why now? Why here?

He looked somewhat serene sitting there, arm propped over the side of the couch, gaze straight ahead. He closed his eyes and his breathing quickly evened out. His complexion looked better but the sweat that shined on his forehead said otherwise.

You moved to a box and pulled out some extra employee shirts and tossed one onto his lap. He cracked one eye open and glanced down at the shirt.

He grabbed it with one hand and held it up. He looked at you with a raised before but without a word, changed into the cheesy shirt.

"You can leave now," he said.

"Yeah, yeah I'm going. I have to clean up the murder scene downstairs anyways. You're so very welcome for that."

He didn't reply but the ghost of a grin that sat on his lips said enough and for the first time that night, an eerie calmness spread within you, reassuring you that everything would now be okay. You quietly made it to the door and locked it, reminding yourself to grab him some supplies tomorrow morning.

It wasn't until you were halfway down the steps that you realized how different your life was going to be from now on.