Chapter 38: 36 - Stupid, Earnest and Relentless

"Rian!" I called, banging on the door. "Let me in!"

No answer.

I knocked harder this time. "I'm serious! Don't make me break and enter again!"

Still nothing.

"Alright," I muttered, letting my hands slip off the door's smooth surface. "You wanna play it that way? Fine by me."

I dug around in my coat pockets for the bobby pins I always kept in case of emergency. My fingers brushed a candy wrapper, some thread, and—were those my earbuds? I'd been looking for those for weeks!

Finally, I touched cool metal. But I frowned—it had too jagged an edge to be my bobby pins. I withdrew the object in confusion.

A key.

"What the hell . . ." I mumbled, before pausing in shock. I remembered snatching a spare key off of Rian's coffee table the last time I was here, on my way to buy that disastrous fever medicine. Was this it?

"No way." I reached forward, extending the key to the lock. It slid in easily. My eyes widened with glee as I turned it and the door clicked open.

Past me is a genius, I thought happily as I stepped inside. The place was just as it'd been before—clean, chrome and cavernous. Whatever you had to say about the boy, he sure knew how to decorate.

"Oh my god," an irritated voice called out. "You actually broke into my house?"

My head whipped around to face Rian, who was lounging on his steel-grey couch. He drew himself up and turned to glare at me. I glared right back.

"I knew it!" I exclaimed triumphantly, jabbing an accusing finger in his direction. "I knew you were ignoring me!"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course I was ignoring you. That's what you do when a crazy person knocks on your door."

I scoffed, brushing past the insult. "If that were true, I guarantee you'd still be wondering what my apartment looks like."

He didn't bother responding to that one, instead choosing to lie back down. I shut the front door, slipping his house key back into my pocket. I had a feeling I'd need it again.

I walked over to him. He was staring at the ceiling, paying me no attention. I leaned over his body, purposefully letting my hair tickle his features. After a few moments of this, his annoyed obsidian eyes rounded on me.

"Get your hair out of my face," he growled.

I pretended to think about it, still letting the deep red waves dangle over him. "How about no?" I said finally, giving him a wicked grin when his eyes narrowed.

"Really?" he asked threateningly.

"Really."

"Fine."

Without warning, he reached up and wrapped an arm around my waist. I yelped as he pulled me down onto the couch, practically into his lap. My face went redder than my hair.

He smirked at me, glancing down the length of his body. "Now, isn't that better?" he drawled.

I fought to get off of him, but his hand on my hip locked me in place. "It's not better," I snapped, struggling to keep my blush in check. "Let me go."

"Hmm." His eyes lit up with devilish delight. "How about no?"

"Rian!"

"Saying my name like that isn't helping you."

My blush intensified, and I scowled at him. His infuriating attitude was making it hard to remember what I'd come here to do. His smirking face was all I could see.

Then I had an idea.

I let the scowl drop away, instead replacing it with my most innocent expression. Rian's smirk faltered as I grasped his hand, bringing it to my face.

"Really?" I asked, my voice low and smooth. His knuckles were almost at my lips, my breath fanning over his long fingers. "You don't like it when I say your name, Rian?"

His eyes widened. My own smirk tugged at my lips as his gaze filled with a familiar hunger. "What are you doing?" he asked guardedly.

"Nothing," I replied, innocent as ever. My mouth brushed his index finger. "Why? Is this," I paused to nip at his fingertip, "bothering you?"

He gritted his teeth, his eyes trained on his hand at my mouth. "No," he ground out.

"Oh?" I drew away, still close enough to feel the heat of his skin. My teeth grazed his wrist, my touch feather-light. "What about this?"

His eyes followed my every move. "No."

Finally, my focus rested on his palm. I traced a pattern over it lightly, letting my nails scrape over the most sensitive parts. My hands were dwarfed by his, but I didn't let that stop me. I brought it close to my lips, watching him watch me. I leaned forward.

And bit him.

"Ow!" he yelled, ripping his hand away. His hold on my waist also loosened, and I easily slipped out of his reach, smirking wickedly.

He sat up to glare at me, gripping his injured hand. "What the hell was that for?"

I shrugged nonchalantly, but my smug grin was clear as day. "You refused to let me go."

"So you bit me?"

"It worked, didn't it?" I responded to his dark glare with a laugh, reaching over to teasingly ruffle those black locks of his. "Lighten up. It's not that bad."

I moved to brush past him, but he caught my hand. I turned to look at him questioningly. "What is it n—"

In a flash, he was towering over me. My voice died in my throat as he leaned down, drawing me close. "I'm going to get you back for that," he promised, his voice like an oncoming storm. "You know that, don't you?"

Why does everything he says sound so perfect?

I pushed away my apprehension at his proximity, instead donning a roguish smile. "Looking forward to it."

With that, I slipped away from him, heading to the kitchen. It was a few moments before I heard him return to the couch.

In an effort to control my rapid pulse, I opened his fridge, examining the contents. Or the lack thereof.

"What the heck?" I exclaimed in shock. "Where did all your food go?"

Last time I'd been there, the fridge was filled to the brim. Now it was empty, save for a few perishables and fast food leftovers.

"I donated it."

I pivoted on my heel, staring at the back of the couch incredulously. "I mean, it's great that you're a humanitarian," I said slowly, "but all of your food? Isn't that a little excessive?"

"I'm not planning on staying here long."

I stilled. My grip on the fridge door faltered and it slipped out of my hand, slamming shut. "Ah," I said awkwardly, clearing my throat. "Right."

I was tempted to tell him not to go, to just blurt it out right then, but we hadn't really been on the greatest terms lately. I figured he'd do the exact opposite of whatever I asked. And if his guilt was as bad as mine, I had no doubt that a simple request from me wouldn't be enough to keep him here. The urge to flee wasn't easy to dismiss.

So I chose to keep my mouth shut. Instead, I turned back to the fridge and opened it again. "In that case, I'm gonna gorge myself on your leftovers. Any protests?"

"Gorge away."

"Great." I pulled a pizza box out, flipping it open. I raised my brows. "Pineapple?" I asked in disbelief. "I thought you hated hawaiian pizza."

He sat up, his feathery locks askew on his forehead. "Technically it's not hawaiian. There's no ham on it," he pointed out drily.

I rolled my eyes. "Always the stickler," I muttered, popping a few slices into his microwave. "Just pineapple, then. You hated this when we were younger."

"Yes, because fruit on pizza is a crime against nature."

"It's not that bad!" I retorted, crossing my arms. "And you're the one who had it in your fridge, not me. Why'd you get it if you hate it so much?"

He got off the couch and made his way towards me, his hands in his pockets. "Because you love pineapple on pizza," he said carelessly, reaching up into a nearby cabinet. "Wanted to see what all the fuss was about."

I tried not to let his comment go to my head—if I blushed any more it would explode. Instead, I watched his arms stretch into the cabinet, his shirt riding up a little. I caught only a flash of tattoo ink before he lowered his arms again.

"Here," he said, tossing me something casually. I caught it, looking down in surprise at the container of dip. "You like barbecue, right?"

"Yes!" I hissed happily. Pizza was never complete without dip. The microwave beeped, and I withdrew four piping-hot slices of cheesy goodness. "Thanks."

"Whatever gets you out of my apartment faster," he drawled in response, watching me tear open the BBQ eagerly.

I snorted, chowing down on my meal. "Yeah, good luck with that," I muttered around a mouthful of food.

He wrinkled his nose, handing me a glass of water. "Don't talk with your mouth full."

I swallowed, grabbing the cup and taking a sip. "Don't talk to me while I'm eating, then," I retorted.

He watched me eat with an elbow propped on the counter. A hint of amusement broke through his stone-cold facade. "When was the last time you ate?" he asked as I wolfed down more pizza.

"Uh," I paused to consider his question, swallowing. "Yesterday, I think? Maybe the day before?"

His eyes widened. "What—you haven't eaten at all?"

"Uh-uh. I mean, I had like two bites of ice cream on the way here. Does that count?"

He groaned, letting his head fall into his hands. "You need to take better care of yourself!" he exclaimed, his voice muffled by his palms.

I made a noncommittal noise, and he raised his head again. "What's a little bit of hunger? We were busy with other things."

"That's not an excuse!" he said, a little anger slipping into his tone now. "What if I wasn't here? Would you have just forgotten again?"

I shrugged. "Probably."

He groaned again, running a hand through his hair. "It's not like I can ask someone else to take care of you," he muttered. "You'd probably just bite them too."

"Well, you've cleared that hurdle already," I reminded him, taking another bite of pizza. "How would you like the job?"

"I'd hate it."

"Too bad. You're stuck with me now."

He scoffed and stepped away from the counter. "That's an interesting change in attitude," he observed sardonically.

"What do you mean?" I asked distractedly. Pizza was so good.

"I mean not too long ago, you were threatening to stab me with a fork," he replied drily. "Now you're making house visits? What did I do to deserve this?"

I shrugged in response. "I just decided I don't want you to leave after all."

He cocked a brow, crossing his arms. "Is that so?"

"It is so," I replied, polishing off my last slice. I picked up my plate and headed to the sink.

"Well, I'm afraid that's not your decision to make." He blocked my attempt to wash my dish. "Trust me, it'll be better for the both of us."

I felt a pang of sympathy, but I didn't let it show. It was a wonder I hadn't even noticed the pain he was carrying around. "We'll see," I said simply.

He scowled. "You're impossible," he muttered, taking my plate. "Here, let me wash this. Go sit down."

I blinked in surprise as he turned to the sink, making quick work of it. I sat down on the chairs by the counter island, unable to keep from noticing the way his muscles rippled beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

"Don't stare at me either."

I looked away rapidly, only a little embarrassed that I'd been caught. He glanced at me over his shoulder, wiping his hands on a nearby washcloth.

"Why are you here, anyways?" he questioned, turning to face me completely. "Can't believe I forgot to ask."

"Oh, right!" I said, remembering myself. I grinned. "Yeah. I'll be staying here for a few days."

"What?"

My grin broadened. "Aw, you don't like the idea of me as a roommate?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, advancing on me.

"I figured I'd have a tough time convincing you to stay," I admitted, "so I'll be crashing here until I do. Gotta maximize my time, you know?"

"You're insane," Rian asserted, his dark eyes blazing. "There's no way you're staying here."

I continued like I hadn't heard him. "I haven't seen any packed suitcases, so that's a good sign."

"Are you hearing me?" he asked, his voice thundering. "Get out of my apartment."

I looked up at him then, that devilish grin still prominent on my face. "No."

His expression darkened in anger, and a little thrill ran through me. "No?" he repeated dangerously.

"No," I affirmed, resting my chin on my palm. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"I can kick you out."

"I'll just break back in."

His eyebrows lowered in frustration. "I could use force."

"Oh!" I said, mischief in my voice. I spread my arms tauntingly. "I'm honoured. You'll escort me out?"

A muscle in his cheek ticked. "I might."

"Go ahead, then," I dared him, revelling in the prospect of his grip on my body. "Sounds fun. Very manhandley. Full disclosure, though: expect a few more bite marks."

He closed his eyes, jaw flexing furiously. I felt a brief surge of triumph. "You're impossible," he growled.

"You said that already."

The silence stretched for a moment longer, then Rian finally opened his eyes. "Fine," he said, his anger tightly restrained. "You can stay."

I smiled. "Fantastic."

"But that doesn't mean I have to," he continued icily. "I'll go spend the night at a hotel or something."

I raised a brow. He really wanted to get away. "And leave me here all alone?"

"That's right."

"How cold." I tilted my head in fake disappointment. "Quel dommage."

He scoffed, walking around the counter to the coat hook. As he swung his jacket off its post, I leaned forward in mock-curiosity. "But Rian," I called, catching his attention.

"What?" he snapped irritatedly.

"What kind of hotel would accept a guest with no money?"

His eyes flicked to mine darkly. "I have money."

"Oh, really?" I asked, another wicked smirk stretching across my face. I lazily lifted his wallet, which I'd pickpocketed, watching with glee as his eyes widened. "Then what's this?"

He quickly patted his jean pockets, glancing back up to glare at me when he didn't find what he wanted. "How the hell did you—"

"Sometimes it helps to be a little light-fingered," is all I offered as a response. His eyes narrowed, and he strode towards me.

"If you weren't a chef, you'd be a criminal," he growled, in front of me in seconds. "Now give me that."

I tucked it into my back pocket, out of his reach. "Don't wanna."

"Hanna." His voice was more than menacing now. My nerves sang with adrenaline, with sheer exhilaration, at the undisguised danger of it all. "Give me the wallet."

"I'd really rather not."

His hair had shifted to fall in front of his eyes, casting them into shadow. "You don't want to be stuck here with me, I promise you that." The ominous note in those words made me shiver.

"Just stay here, at your house," I argued, pushing my attraction away. "You say you're leaving anyways. What's a few more days with me around?"

He stared silently. I stared back, for the first time feeling a prickle of apprehension. He really could just pick me up and throw me out, if he so wished. I waited with bated breath to see what he would do.

But it turned out my nerves were for nothing. "Fine," he finally ground out, taking off his coat. I let out a small sigh of relief as he returned it to the hook. "But you're sleeping on the couch."

"Works for me," I acquiesced. I wondered what I was supposed to do now. I hadn't really expected to get this far. Rian, scowling, had started glaring at the wall wordlessly.

I glanced around the room for a clock, unable to find one. "What time is it, anyways?"

He checked his watch. "Seven p.m."

"Perfect," I announced. "That leaves us plenty of time for Jake and Amy."

His scowl deepened. "Who?"

♛

Three hours later, I was struggling to keep Rian from chucking the remote at his TV.

"What? How does that make sense?" Rian exclaimed, gesturing at the screen angrily.

"Yeah, but it's Captain Holt," I replied mildly, setting the remote on the opposite end of the couch. "It's just how he is."

"But all of his expressions are the same! He's like a block of stone!"

I snorted into the popcorn I'd bought. "Sounds like someone I know."

Rian didn't take notice of what I'd said, instead glaring at the TV. "Whatever," he muttered, taking another handful of popcorn. "I hope Rosa grinds them all into dust."

I yawned, stretching my arms and mumbling something unintelligible. Rian glanced over at me in surprise. "Tired already?"

I nodded sluggishly. "It's been a long day."

He scoffed and turned off the display, back to his regular self. "You don't need to remind me," he said sourly. "I'm the one stuck with the uninvited guest."

"Ha ha," I said sarcastically, sliding further against the couch. Rian got up from where he sat next to me, retrieving a pillow and blanket from a nearby linen closet.

"Here," he said, tossing them on me. I sputtered as they hit my face, pulling the blanket down to glare at him. "Sleep well."

"Sleep well," I mimicked, making a face when he turned to scowl at me. "I'll see you in the morning, Haltie."

"Hopefully not," he said drily, stalking over to his bedroom. I watched him go amusedly, the door quietly clicking shut behind him.

"One day down," I breathed, rolling my shoulders. I can do this, I thought determinedly, snuggling into the warm blanket. The pillow was unbelievably soft, too. It didn't take long for me to drift off—I was asleep in minutes.

It was comfortable. Too comfortable, in fact. It made me forget what always happened next.

Get out of the house!

My usual nightmare echoed around me, but with a few changes. It was clearer now, more vivid. The faces of the past swirled around me like demons in the dark, in perfect HD.

Parents.

I screamed, unable to keep my terror at bay. A ghost-like hand clawed at my right wrist, dragging me away from a scene of death and tragedy. Even in the dream, my right side burned.

A real hand shook me awake, and I thrashed helplessly. "No," I gasped, unshed tears accidentally slipping down my face. "Please. Make it stop."

"Hanna." Rian's voice floated over me in the dark. He sounded worried—beyond worried. "Hanna, wake up."

I only groaned, covering my wet face with my hands. They were everywhere, whispering to me in the gloom. It's your fault. It's your fault we're dead.

Rian sat me up. The phantom impression of a hand was still on my wrist, but it was chased away by Rian's grip, trailing up to my face. My right side felt like the skin was being flayed off.

"Look at me," he commanded, his fingers brushing my cheekbones. "You're alright. They're not real."

My wild eyes landed on him. I hiccupped, trying to regain control. His soothing words helped ground me a little, helped remind me that I was out of the nightmare. But it didn't aid the fiery pain expanding over my ribcage.

Before I could shout that it hurt—because everything hurt, now—Rian pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around my body. I jolted in shock as the agony began to fade. His hand stroked my hair, and all I could do was clutch his shirt as his murmurs calmed me down.

Finally, all was silent. The pain had gone as quickly as it had come, and Rian pulled away. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

I nodded silently, not trusting myself to speak. He let his hands fall to his sides.

"You should . . . you should try to go back to sleep," he suggested. I shook my head, embarrassed that I'd lost it in front of him, but I knew falling back asleep was not an option. They would come back to find me.

"I'm sorry to have woken you up," I rasped, feeling bad his sleep had been ruined. "You should head back to bed. I can—I'll make breakfast, or something."

He chuckled emptily, glancing at a digital clock I hadn't seen earlier. "At three in the morning? No."

"But I can—"

The look on his face stopped me in my tracks. He regarded me with shadowed eyes. "If you don't want to sleep out here," he said, "then come sleep with me."

My eyes widened. What? What did he just say? I began to shake my head no, dumbfounded by the very prospect.

His lips tugged into a sardonic half-smile as he lifted me from the couch. "It wasn't a request."

"Rian!" I yelped, unable to believe this was happening. My nightmare rapidly faded from my memory, replaced instead with alarm at the situation. "Put me down!"

"No. If you lose any more sleep, you'll stay tiny forever."

I scowled, still struggling. It was amazing how easily he managed to piss me off, even in my shaken state. "Asshole," I muttered as he pushed open the door to his room.

He tossed me on his wide charcoal-coloured bed, raising an eyebrow when I turned bright red. I couldn't help it—he'd been asleep here not twenty minutes ago.

"You blush a lot," he observed bluntly.

Which only made the redness in my face worsen. "And whose fault is that?" I fired back, pressing my hands against my cheeks to cool them.

He simply chuckled and slid into bed with me, lifting the silky sheets for me to get under. I regarded the movement warily.

"Oh, for goodness' sake," he muttered, yanking me down. I bit back a yelp as I flopped next to him, two inches from his body. He tucked the blanket over me. "There," he drawled. "That wasn't so hard."

"For you, maybe." I averted my eyes. "But thank you."

He brushed a strand of hair from my face without warning. "Don't mention it," he said, flicking off the lamp. It was completely dark now, and I shivered. I wasn't used to him being so nice.

"Ah, that reminds me," he added, voice echoing. There was a jeering note to his words. "You're afraid of the dark, aren't you?"

Aaand he was back. "Shut up."

His laugh rumbled low, and I nearly flinched as his hand settled on my waist, pulling me closer to him. "Anything for the belle of the ball," he murmured, already dropping off to sleep.

I lied there for who knows how long, wrapped in his embrace, as his breath evened out. I could just barely see the outline of his features in the blackness. His long eyelashes fluttered, and I was tempted to reach out to touch them.

But instead I forced myself to remain still. Soon enough, the drowsiness came for me too, and I welcomed it with open arms. Rian's face was the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes.

And for the first time in a very long while, I slept with no dreams.