Wandering Spirits

Chapter 27

Storm's apartment was marked by an unusual optimism this Friday, as he had been out shopping for Freja's favorite snacks earlier in the day. The bags of candy, chocolate, and potato chips were neatly arranged on the kitchen counter, and the smell of freshly made popcorn hung thick in the air. Freja, with her blonde hair sticking out in all directions, couldn't hide the childlike excitement bubbling inside her. She twirled around the room like a happy whirlwind, almost dancing from the table to the sofa.

When they finally sank into the soft cushions of the sofa, Freja pulled out a crumpled envelope from the pocket of her worn-out pants. Storm, who was half-watching the TV screen, turned his full attention towards her when she mentioned something about a gift. His clear blue eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"I have made something for you," she said with a voice as excited as a string on a guitar.

He furrowed his brows in wonder. In his spartan apartment where most of the furnishings consisted of old heirlooms and practical Ikea furniture, it was difficult to imagine what kind of gift she could have conjured up.

Freja carefully took out a piece of paper, unfolded the edges, and revealed a drawing. It was Leika, Storm's old family dog, depicted in crooked lines and oversized paws. Above the dog's clownish expression, it was written in childish handwriting: "To my boyfriend."

It wasn't a Picasso drawing, but there was something heartwarming about the dog's big, round eyes and the gentle smile. Storm couldn't hold back a chuckling roar that filled the entire room, while Freja's deep brown eyes narrowed into suspicious lines.

"It's not nice to laugh," she said, arms crossed over her chest as she moved a little further away from him on the couch.

He tried to suppress his laughter, but there was something comical about the whole situation. Here he was, a young man with dreams of a future with her, receiving a drawing that could have been from a first-grader. And yet, it was the warmth of the gesture that hit him the hardest, the knowledge that Freja had sat and made an effort to do this - for him.

Storm's eyes softened as he looked at Freja's wrinkled forehead and the tight arms that protectively enveloped the small piece of paper. Despite the laughter that had bubbled out of him, there was a warm feeling spreading in his chest. He leaned forward and gently took her hand, before leaning his cheek against hers and whispered sincerely, "It's incredibly sweet, Freja."

Their lips met in a tender kiss, one of those quiet moments where the outside world seemed to fade away. Storm could feel her gentle, trembling breath against his face, and his heart beat a little faster.

As their kisses grew deeper, more insistent, Storm's mobile phone suddenly started beeping incessantly. The screen lit up with notifications that flickered by unnoticed. In his mind, images of his friends gathered around a table filled with tacos and laughter appeared - it must be Friday taco night again. But in this moment, with Freja's nimble fingers finding their way under the edge of his t-shirt, it was as if nothing else existed.

He left his phone untouched, its persistent beeping a distant, insignificant sound against the background of Freja's soft sighs and the gentle scent of her hair. Storm was too preoccupied with memorizing the feeling of her close to him; the soft touch of her lips, and the way she pulled him even closer. Taco night or not, no messages in the world could make him care right now.

Meanwhile at Nico's:

The light from the street lamps outside cast long shadows over the living room floor where Niko stood, impatiently drumming his fingers against a polished shelf. He stared at the mobile phone lying abandoned on the table in front of him, the screen dark and as silent as it had been for the past seven days.

"It's enough," he muttered to himself before turning towards Liam, who was huddled in an armchair with a book half-hidden behind a pair of restless eyes. "Storm hasn't replied to a single message in a week! That's not like him."

Liam nodded and set the book aside, a trace of worry etched between his brows. "Should we check what he's up to? Approach him right away?"

Niko looked out of the window, where the evening sky was starting to color the world in shades of blue and gray. "Yes," he said firmly, "we must figure this out."

The shoes of Niko hit the floor at a rhythmic pace as he bent down to tighten the laces. He quickly glanced at Liam, who was also getting ready with swift movements. The two friends were a tangle of arms and legs as they prepared to leave the apartment.

Back to Storm:

In the meantime, elsewhere in the city, Storm and Freja were tangled together on the worn-out sofa that had seen better days. The room was filled with the muted sounds of city life outside, but it went unnoticed by the two young lovers. Storm's hand glided over Freja's back, a sporadic touch that was both gentle and tentative. His red hair was even more tousled than usual, a testament to their passionate moment.

Freja's foot found its way over his hips, an effortless gesture that brought her even closer. Her blonde locks framed the face that radiated with intention. The sofa's springs creaked under the weight of their closeness, a discreet symphony to their affair.

Storm's breath became heavier, his heart pounded harder against his ribcage, and he could feel the control slipping away. He pulled back from their merged lips, and his breath was easily visible in the dimly lit room. "Freja," he whispered, a mix of warning and desire in his voice. "If we continue like this..." He let the sentence hang in the air, unfinished, as he struggled with the inner conflict between reason and desire.

Freja's eyes met Storm's, and in the dim light of the room, he could see a mixture of longing and uncertainty forming in them. Her fingers played with the edge of his shirt as she answered him in a whispering tone, "What if I want to continue?"

Storm felt his heart pounding in his chest, a rhythm he no longer had full control over. His hands found their way to her waist, but instead of pulling her closer, he gently kept her at a distance. The moment was charged with an electric jolt that made the hairs on his arms stand on end.

"Freja," he said, his voice deeper than usual, vibrating with a seriousness contrasting their previous playfulness. She looked at him with her big brown eyes, a mix of challenge and questioning curiosity shining in them. He could see that she didn't take him completely seriously, but he knew he had to set the boundary before it all became too much. "I mean it," he asserted, and the words hung between them like a warning of a storm on the horizon.

"Is it really that bad if it were to happen?" Freja's voice was a mixed signal of playfulness and seriousness, a flirtatious tone that could melt any man's heart. She tilted her head, her locks dancing around her face in the dim light from the living room lamp. Storm caught a glimpse of the mischievous smile playing on her lips, a confirmation that she had a plan, and that he was the center of it.

He hesitated, caught in the tension between reason and desire, before taking a deep breath. There was something about the way she moved, how her foot snuck over his hip and anchored her closer - a not so subtle invitation to forget everything else.

But before Storm could formulate a response, before he could decide whether to give in or keep his distance, the silence was abruptly interrupted. The door to the apartment slammed open with such force that the frame shook, and a wave of energy poured in, immediately filling the room with a new dynamic.

There stood Niko, his hair all over the place as if he had just completed a sweaty workout, alongside Liam whose eyes were as wide as plates. The two men froze at the sight that met them - Storm and Freja, who in that moment seemed to be caught red-handed in an intimate scene straight out of a romantic movie.

For a brief moment, there was a comical uncertainty in the air, a silent understanding that this was not a typical Friday evening. With Freja's legs still boldly draped over Storm, and Storm himself with an expression balancing between surprised and embarrassed, the stage was set for an explanation that neither of them had prepared for.