Alexander

You had just closed the door and turned the lock when the light in the hallway turned on.

Not just one click - the entire long corridor was immediately filled with yellow light.

“It’s too late,” said a voice.

You flinched.

Alexander stood not in the back of the apartment, but right by the mirror in the hallway, as if he'd been waiting there for a long time. Tall, broad-shouldered, tattoos peeking out from under his sleeve, his gaze calm but piercing.

“Are you awake?” you breathed out.

He nodded slightly towards the kitchen: “Father is sleeping. I heard the door.”

You slowly took off your shoes, trying not to look directly at him.

— And you decided... to stand here?

“I decided to make sure it was you,” he answered calmly.

Pause.

You threw your jacket on the hook, but it missed and fell to the floor. You cursed quietly.

Alexander didn't even smile - he simply bent down, picked up the jacket and hung it up properly.

“Thank you…” you muttered.

He nodded as if it didn't matter at all.

"Are you the only one coming home so late?" he asked suddenly.

• Sometimes.

He looked at you longer than was necessary for a normal question.

“Bad,” he said shortly.

“Why do you care?” you blurted out.

He didn't answer right away. Then he took a step closer—and you felt the corridor growing tighter again.

"Because I'm not a guest in this house," he said calmly. "And while I'm here, I can hear every door."

Silence.

He took a step back as if he hadn’t said anything special and added more evenly:

• Go to bed. Morning is smarter than night.

(idea-ti.nyx_bot taken with the author's permission)