/Leo/
Dinner with my family was… unexpectedly calm. No one would expect such quiet from such a lively household. Normally, there's always something—a new drama, a fresh argument, some ridiculous story—that keeps everyone hooked together.
But tonight was different. Peaceful.
I felt… relaxed. An unfamiliar calmness settled over me, stirring unusual feelings I couldn't quite name. Seeing Jake happy, truly happy, brought a sense of peace I hadn't realized I'd been craving. After everything that had happened today, I was grateful to see him smiling, comfortable enough to just be himself. Bringing him to meet my family had been a good decision.
After that video leak—and the way people's stares had created an uneasy, suffocating atmosphere around him—I knew I needed to keep him close. Keeping him near meant I could take care of him on a personal level. I could make sure he was safe. After all… he feels like a little storm that still needs nurturing to grow—a storm that, somehow, makes people smile.
On completing the long drive from my parents' house, we finally reached… my place. My place, because I didn't even know where he lived. And his beautiful, soft, sleeping face kept me from waking him. Instead, I turned the car toward home.
I parked in the lot and stepped out, wondering how I was going to get him upstairs without disturbing him. I opened the passenger door, and when I saw his peaceful face up close, a quiet idea struck me.
Unbuckling his seatbelt, I freed him from its restraint. Then I bent down, slipping one arm beneath his legs and the other beneath his back, lifting him gently into my arms.
His eyes blinked open as I held him.
"What are you doing?" he mumbled, his low, sleepy voice sending a strange sensation through me—too close, too soft.
"Just sleep," I murmured, looking into his drowsy eyes and reassuring him that he was safe.
His eyelids lowered again. I stepped back from the car, holding him close, and walked toward the elevator. His weight was warm and steady in my arms. By the time we reached the door to my apartment, he was fully asleep again.
I somehow managed to get the door open and took slow, quiet steps toward my bedroom. Bending over, I gently released him from my arms onto the soft bed, careful not to disturb his sleep.
I slipped off his shoes and removed the coat from his shoulders. My fingers worked at the knot of his tie, freeing his neck from its uneasy grip, then unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt so he could rest more comfortably. Pulling the blanket over him, I stepped back for a moment, watching his peaceful face, before taking the chair near the bed.
I loosened my own tie, shrugged off my coat, and sank into the couch. Reaching for the bottle of champagne on the edge of the table, I popped the cork, letting the quiet fizz fill the room. The glass filled, and so did my thoughts—always circling back to Jake.
As eyes lingered on him, my mind was already working through the next steps. I had managed to arrange a meeting with the club manager to inquire about the leaked footage. I already knew who was behind such a filthy trick, but I wanted confirmation. The meeting was scheduled after work tomorrow, near the Elysian Haven Hotel—which meant I could conveniently pick him up after his party.
Lifting the glass, I took a slow sip. The warmth of the champagne did little to settle the unease running through me. Leaning back against the couch, glass in hand, I let my eyes drift shut, hoping to steal a moment of quiet after such an eventful day.
The morning alarm dragged me back to reality. I blinked awake to find myself on the couch, covered with a blanket I didn't remember pulling over myself. My muscles ached from sleeping there.
Pushing the heavy blanket aside, I walked over to silence the alarm. Running a hand through my hair, I tried to shake off the fog of sleep and signal my brain that it was time to face the day.
A sudden metallic clang rang through the house, sharp enough to set my nerves on edge. My legs moved on instinct, carrying me toward the sound.
I opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hall, my footsteps quickening as I approached the kitchen. When I reached the counter, I stopped, scanning the room.
My eyes swept the entire space, searching for the source, while my ears strained for any sign of the noise again. Then—there it was. A faint clatter, coming from just behind the countertop.
I leaned over, lowering myself to peer beneath the counter—
—and something leapt up at me.
A ghost.
At least, that's what my adrenaline-spiked brain decided. I stumbled backward, my body hitting the floor with a hard thud.
The figure was clutching a knife, arm raised, while the other hand fumbled clumsily along the shelves, sending kitchen utensils crashing to the floor. Its face was ghostly white, only the eyes and lips visible—making the appearance even more chilling.
It stepped around the end of the counter, advancing. I backed away, still on the floor, my hands and legs trembling. Inch by inch, I retreated until my back hit the corner of the room. It felt like I'd reached the edge of the world.
Heart hammering, I shut my eyes tight, curling into the corner and hoping—praying—that this was just a bad dream.
The white figure came closer. Knife still in hand. Then… it stopped.
"Leo, it's me."
It knew my name. That only fueled the panic surging through me.
I kept my eyes shut tighter. Then—cold fingers brushed over my hand. The icy touch sent a fresh wave of shivers down my spine, freezing me in place.
"Leo… help me get this flour off my face. I can't see anything."
My eyes snapped open.
Jake.
I stared for a second, just to be sure. Then, for good measure, I pinched my arm.
Ow. Definitely awake.
Rubbing my eyes for clarity, I looked again—and there he was. Jake, standing in my kitchen, covered head to toe in flour, holding a knife like a confused ghost chef.