I pressed my back against the door and squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back the panic that bubbled up in my throat. I inhaled deep, shaky breaths and exhaled, my chest tight and heart racing.

A soft meow reached my ears, startling me. I forced my eyes open and saw Lucky, curled up on my bed, his head lifted in my direction. Releasing another slow, shaky breath, I walked over to the bed and kissed his forehead.

"I'm sorry Luck, did I startle you?" I murmured softly. He meowed at me a second time and rolled onto his back, stretching out his front and back paws. I rubbed his stomach and scratched behind his ears, purrs vibrating from him, his eyes closing contently.

I crawled onto the bed and laid down next to him, resting my head down next to his. The deafening silence clung to me, and any spark of light that I felt earlier from my evening with Elijah vanished and was replaced with a dark, smokey storm.

Why the fuck did he have to be home tonight? I had enjoyed my night out. Seeing Elijah again, even if it was only for a few hours, had healed a part of me that was slowly breaking to pieces over the last few months. Even if its healing effects weren't immortal, I had hoped that it would last for at least a little while.

But now, it had all been washed away, leaving me ruined and hopeless.

I brushed my fingers through Lucky's fur, silently watching as he playfully curled his paws around my hand, biting and licking my fingers. I was able to slowly calm myself down after what felt like a while, and after pressing another kiss to the top of his head, I removed my hand from his grasp and pulled myself out of bed.

I grabbed my AirPods off my nightstand and headed out of my bedroom. I was careful not to run into my parents, my father especially, as I headed downstairs, quietly tiptoeing to my art studio.

Despite my dad's clear disapproval of my art hobby, after years of arguing, my mom and I were able to convince him to build me a space in our home for me to have my own art studio, where I could work on my paintings and store my supplies. It was the one place in this prison of a home where I felt like I could breathe and feel at ease, where I could just put plug in my AirPods and silence the world around me, creating better, fantastical worlds through my paintings.

As I walked into my art studio, I was met with the pleasant smell of woods and oils, the tension in my bones releasing almost instantly.

The midnight sky was visible on the glass roof. On the far side of the room, stood floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a view of our garden. Easels scattered around the studio, some with finished paintings, and on the walls, were more framed paintings and sketches. A chandelier hung in the centre of the room on a beam, antique tables lying around, and my large quantity of art supplies, textbooks, and papers were collected on top of them.

I walked over to my current project, sitting half-finished on an easel, and quickly set up my station. I brought over a trolley of brushes, oil paints and other supplies, setting it next to the easel. Then, I was rolling up my sleeves and throwing in my AirPods, pressing shuffle on one of my music playlists.

I picked up my paintbrush and wooden palette, and after mixing my colours, my brush hit the canvas.

With music blaring in my ears and a clear view of the night, I absorbed myself into my painting. I glided my brush along the canvas with a gentle hand.

I've spent countless hours so far on this piece, and right now, I would say it was just two-thirds of the way finished. The headshot of a man with blonde hair was the focal point of my painting. His eyes were blindfolded by the hands of a creature with sharp, elongated nails and golden, fiery wings hovering behind him, and beneath the creature's hands, aureate blood seeped down the man's cheeks and chin, dripping down his neck.

I was pulled out of my hyperfocus when my phone vibrated in my back pocket. I set my palette and paintbrush down on my cart and pulled out my phone, seeing a text from Elijah pop up on my screen.

Shit. I forgot to text him when I got home. I paused my music and quickly texted him back.

Elijah Flores
Did you get home safely?

Luka Whitfield
Yeah I did
Sorry, I forgot to text you and let you know, I got a bit distracted

Elijah Flores
Is everything okay?

I didn't get the chance to reply because seconds later, a voice call from Elijah flashed on my screen.

"Why aren't you asleep? It's past midnight." I asked right after I accepted the call.

"I was waiting up for your text. I told you to text me when you got home so that I know you got home safely, remember?" Elijah reminded me. I sighed heavily, guilt crawling around in my chest.

"Yeah, yeah. I remember. Sorry, it just slipped my mind." I replied. "You didn't need to wait up for me though. I know you're exhausted from your game."

"You know I worry," Elijah chuckled. "I just want to make sure that you're okay and that you didn't wind up in a ditch somewhere."

I chuckled softly. "You're such a mother hen, you know that?"

"I am not."

"Shut up. Yes you are."

Even if I couldn't see him, with his breath of silence, I knew he was rolling his eyes at me.

"Is it so bad that I just want to make sure my friends are void of danger?" He questioned. A smile cracked on my face.

"No, not really, " I answered. "If anything, I find it adorable."

"You need to stop saying stuff like that." Elijah huffed.

"Why? It's the truth."

"Whatever," Elijah brushed off. I chuckled to myself. "Are you okay, though? Did something happen?"

"No, I'm fine," I replied. While it was a lie, I didn't want to talk about it. I just wanted to forget. "I'm just working on a painting for class."

"Can I see?" He asked, curiosity in his tone.

I pulled up my phone camera and took a couple of shots of the painting, sending the best-looking one to Elijah seconds later.

"Oh, it's gorgeous," He exclaimed, breathless. "Any idea what you're calling it?"

"Fire and Fury," I answered. Elijah hummed.

"Like the Greek mythology furies?"

"Exactly like the furies," I laughed.

"It's really beautiful," Elijah said sincerely. "Like, really beautiful. You'll have to show me it when you're finished."

"You'll be the first person to see it."

Silence. I liked to think that he was smiling on the other end of the call. A comforting silence washed over me for a few seconds, and I moved to pick up my paintbrush.

"You should really get some sleep, Elijah. It's past midnight and you have class tomorrow." I said. A heavy sigh echoed through my phone.

"I can't sleep," He confessed. "I don't know why, I just can't. Shouldn't you be sleeping too?"

"I can't really sleep either, if I'm being honest."

"I wished you could have stayed the night," Elijah admitted, voice soft. "It was good seeing you again today, even if it was only for a little bit."

The smile on my face widened. "Stay the night at the house of the man who rejected my marriage proposal? No way."

Elijah scoffed in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

"Would you want to have a sleepover with the man that rejected you? I don't think so."

"Well, why would I say yes to the guy who spilt soda all over my white blazer?" Elijah snapped back, another scoff reaching my ears.

"Oh come on, that was like over a year ago now."

"Yeah, and I still can't get the stain out to this day."

I shook my head, laughing. "Just let me buy you a new one."

"Why, so you can spill soda on that one too?"

"No, think of it as a peace offering. As an apology for ruining your blazer, I'll buy you a new one, and in return, you have to agree to marry me when you're thirty."

"It sounds like you're trying to bribe me," Elijah said.

"No way, I would never do that."

Elijah snorted. There was a moment of silence before he finally spoke up again.

"My answer is still no. Find someone else to marry."

"You're no fun," I complained. Elijah laughed.

"And yet, you wanna marry me."

"Well...your pretty face makes up for it, I guess."

"Oh my god, shut up."

It was my turn to laugh. My chest felt lighter, the heaviness shedding some of its weight. With my dad making a sudden appearance at home tonight, I definitely needed this phone call.

Elijah was the perfect distraction.

I didn't know how long we talked on the phone for, but it was definitely a while. While we talked, I brought my brush back to my canvas, adding several more brush strokes to the painting. I ended up focusing heavily on my project once again, growing quiet as I added precise details to the creature's haunting face.

Neither of us talked for a while, but we didn't need to. The comfort of his presence was enough for me, even if it was through the phone.

After what was probably an hour of vestal silence,  soft breathing reached my ears through my AirPods. I pulled my gaze from the canvas and glanced at my phone that I had perched on the cart next to me.

"Elijah?" I called out softly. A smile tugged my lips when he didn't reply, and I knew then, that he had fallen asleep.

Cute. I thought to myself, my smile widening. I dragged my teeth over my lower lip and picked up my phone, unlocking the screen.

"Goodnight, Elijah," I whispered into the phone, and then, I hung up the call.