The lights don't shine as bright in this corner of Haven, just a dim yellow glow that reflects back from the shining linoleum floors of the halls December roams.
It's nearly midnight yet the boy is restless, wandering the halls in his white pajama pants and Haven corporate sweatshirt, aware of every small tick of a clock or scuttle of an ant that graces his path. From somewhere in the distance there's a chorus of low murmurs and growls. The occasional snarl that leaves December still in his place, cautious of every corner he turns and what could be lurking behind it.
He doesn't know where he's going but anywhere is better than where he had come from. The place that has left him filled with so much confusion and doubt in himself and in his company as a whole.
To spy on Ryder? It's a notion that considers him less-than in the eyes of his mother, and while December always knew that she was never a fan, he always had a small glimmer of hope inside him that she still saw him as family. This is why Ryder worries so much... The thought finds itself popping up at every other corner he turns, the dim lights flickering and leading his way to who knows where, his bare feet turning numb against the freezing tiles of the floor.
He presses his sweatshirt closer to his body as a small shiver runs through him, the inside of his body unable to warm itself against the assault of the chill, just leaving him with an empty, void feeling within himself. It's a sensation he's never been fond of, it often comes with overthinking, with doubts, with worries, and it's almost always triggered by something that Ryder had done.
Ryder.
The name only brings mixed emotions at this point in his journey, a wall coming up in front of him, adorned with small pictures and a towering fern but empty apart from these few trinkets. December can't help but let out a small chuckle at the irony of it as he turns around and makes his way back to his bedroom, legs dragging sluggishly behind him from their mile long trek.
The air in the hallway is stale with no windows to relive it. Just the occasional fragrance of a fern or flowering bush popping up here and there as he passes them on his path back to his bedroom in the south wing of the building. His body slowing out of pure exhaustion as he forces each fatigued limb to carry on.
By the time he reaches the silver door of his bedroom he's out of breath, head falling forward and hitting the metal material with a hearty thud. Ignoring the pain that seeps into the center of his head from the impact, he swipes a key card against the standard 9 digit keypad beside every door and enters his 4 digit code, the room popping open as if greeting him from a prolonged hiatus.
His bedroom is better than his office. Although the standard white walls and floors still encase the bedroom, there at least seems to be more life here. Even with no windows, no communication with the outside world, just a small overhead light that casts the same dim yellow glow around the room, causing shadows to bounce around the walls that leave December uneasy, as if the ghosts of his past have crawled back to him...
Shaking his head he lets the thought go, he drags his body into the queen sized bed that lies pressed against the upper right corner of the room, the black comforter one of the only colors in the entire bedroom.
From the bookshelf strapped across the wall to the lines of shelves, even his closet stocked full of clothes and the shoes scattered around the entirety of the room. Everything is so sterile he notes, perfected, as if somehow having a purple jacket or pink couch would throw the entire balance out of whack.
He murmurs something unintelligible to himself, wrapping his body in the binding warmth of his comforter and pulling the covers over his shoulder. The fabric settles around his neck where he curls into them tighter, shutting his eyes against the glowing lights and waiting for sleep to find him...
A shuffle of a sound wakes him, eyes blinking into focus slowly as the world stops turning. The fuzzy bedroom comes into view as he cautiously glances around the bedroom from his spot tucked under his covers, careful of making any noises that could alert an intruder to his presence.
The shuffle starts again, its direction coming from the bookshelf on the other side of the room. A dark figure encased in shadows rummages around the materials, pulling out book after book and flying through the pages in obvious hunt of something.
The intruder pauses for a moment, back still turned to December before slowly turning his head in his direction, December hastily shutting his eyes to avoid discovery. Only when the sound of shuffles start up again does December once again reopen them, his breaths heavy though he tries to suffocate them under the now blinding heat of the blankets.
His stomach is in knots, each breath strained with nerves as he grips the blanket tighter to him, praying to the small crucifix above his bed that the intruder leaves quickly, his presence overwhelming in the small bedroom as he searches every corner with no reward.
If seems as if the invasion lasts for hours, December's body a tense mass by the time the intruder finally gathers his materials and leaves. His body passes under the light of the room and temporarily leaves it in night, the slight glow creating a spotlight on the intruders slightly tanned skin and brown leather suit bag if only for a moment.
The intruder is already halfway out the door before December is throwing the blankets away from himself. His skin drenched in sweat as adrenaline pumps through his veins and he's scrambling out of bed, desperate not to lose his line of sight on the intruder, on Ryder.
Leaving a few feet of space between him and his target, December creeps along the walls he knows so well, ducking into unknown corners and cubbies to avoid detection from the man in front of him. His bare feet stick to the material of the floor before freezing into sheets of ice, each limb numb as he forces his body to cooperate, forces it to continue on once more though it begs him for just a moment of rest.
Immediately, he regrets his previous walk around the building, now wishing that he could pull from his reservoir of strength that has now gone empty, body and mind running on nothing more than fumes and dedication. A mere few feet ahead of him Ryder turns a corner that brings them over to the east wing of the building, the boy disappearing behind a white wall tinged yellow by the lights as December follows up a respectable distance behind him.
Though before he can reach the intersection he's pulled away by foreign hands, an abrupt scream being silenced by a rough hand, a familiar scent of cologne drifting from its wrist.
"Abrahm?"
The boy smiles from his bedroom doorway, body casually leaning against the frame with one foot crossed over the other, his standard white pants and Haven sweatshirt identical to that of December's. His curls are held up at the top of his head in a bun, a few strands breaking loose here and there as he tosses his head to the side with a muffled chuckle, extinguishing his grip on December and spinning the boy to face him.
"Trouble sleeping again? I thought that was you I heard roaming the halls like a ghost. Is it because of what happened in the interrogation room?" He mentions the last part offhandedly, gaze dropping to the floor as if that gifted December some kind of privacy.
He isn't wrong though, and December knows it as he wrings his hands, fiddling with the stitching of his sweatshirt sleeve, doing anything in his power to avoid having to think on the question for too long. "I guess?" He sheepishly admits, mostly to himself, meeting his best friend's gaze once more. "But we can talk about that later, right now I have to find Ryder."
Abrahm doesn't wait for permission, rather jumping into a pair of socks and tossing a pair into December's arms before closing the bedroom door behind him. "Ryder? What for?"
"He stole something from my bedroom and he's headed to the eastern wing-"
"Your office." Abrahm finishes with a slight nod of understanding, leading the way around the corner and down another hall, December secretly grateful for the socks as they silently track their target's footsteps. Abrahm pauses up ahead, left hand outstretched while the other brings a solitary finger to his lips, beckoning for December to stash himself between the shadows of two intersecting halls.
Hidden in plain sight, he waits for the next move, Abrahm motioning with his head to the cracked door of December's office and the slight shuffling sound inside. The noise is so faint that he has to strain himself to hear it, a slight headache coming on in the center of his forehead. He presses the knuckle of his thumb to the area and rubs, waiting for the pulsing sensation to cease as Abrahm maps out their next moves.
Waiting in the middle of the hall December can't help but examine the boy beside him, the way his shoulders tense and ease up with the slightest of sounds, each noise pumping more excitement into his overdosed veins.
He lives for moments like this, any opportunity to be stealthy, expose a villain, catch someone in the act. December grew up with this boy, their parents having grown close after the Sky Fall and the death of both of their partners. They had their loving sons to bond over and the pieces fell into place, Abrahm becoming almost a brother to December after all these years.
So why, December always wondered, did he become a scientist, trapping himself under piles of paperwork and constantly hunched over a microscope, sweat beaded around his forehead as he strains himself for a cause. He could've been a hunter, evident by how fast he came up with a plan, or even a guard for that matter, so why a scientist?
The thought stays with December, head cocked slightly in thought until Abrahm takes notice of his staring, waving his hand in front of his face and pointing towards the door of the office.
"Look," he whispers just loud enough for December to hear. "he's away from the door we can catch him and see if he has any answers."
Before December can respond Abrahm is up and on the move, practically skidding into the office space while December scrambles on the floor to catch up to him, slamming his side into the door on his tumble inside. There's a flicker of light before the bright fluorescence bleeds into the hallway, Ryder wide eyed with a book in his hand and a file in another while a secondary file lies sprawled open on the glass desk.