After his parents' sudden death, Chester Covington leaves everything behind and moves in with his aunt.
But nobody knows what is going on behind the facadé of a traumatized boy who has watched his parents die that he puts up ever single day of his...
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I lock eyes with the person opposite of me, my stomach sinking.
I should've thought this through more. Why didn't I just text Riku and ask which apartment exactly he lives in?
"Uh- I . . . " I try to form a proper sentence but all that leaves my mouth is a gibberish mess. My anxiety sits heavily in my throat, adding to the sudden mutism that has taken control of me.
In front of me, eyes locked with mine, stands a guy not much older than me - he was probably born only a couple of years earlier than me. His hair is a mess of white strands that are intermingled into a mop of black hair, styled in a way that reveals his forehead. What catches my eye, is the loop-formed piercing in his right eyebrow that shimmers in the dim light of the ceiling lamp above me. It adds to his somewhat edgy look.
On top of that, he's wearing a pair of dark jeans and a black hoodie with a jeans jacket on top.
I gulp visibly as his striking blue eyes travel my body up and down. He raises his eyebrow. "Who are you?" he asks, his voice a few octaves lower than I had expected.
"C-Chester," I reply with a shaky voice. I want to face palm myself all over again as soon as I process that I just told a stranger my name. A stranger whose door I had just attempted to knock on, may I add.
"And what are you doing in front of my door?" I avert my eyes, heat rising to my cheeks.
"I g-got the wrong door, sorry," I mumble under my breath before I spin on my heels and try to race down the stairs, but the hand that suddnely grabs ahold of my arm prevents me from doing so. I flinch in surprise as the cold fingers wrap tightly around my wrist, forcing me to turn back around as they pull me towards the guy.
"Aren't you the guy who ran out of here like some fucking bitch on steroids last week?" His words cause me to freeze, the room suddenly becoming a lot smaller. "Yes. Yes, you are, right? You stormed out of that psycho's apartment," he adds, spitting out the word 'psycho' as if it was poison.
I lower my gaze to his chest, all the confidence that was left getting soaked out of me with every second that passes by.
"Look at me," he orders. Refusing to listen to him out of fear, I settle my eyes on the guy's necklace. It's hanging loosely around his neck, its key-formed pendant dangling around as his chest heaves up and down.
All of a sudden, I feel his fingers grip onto my chin, forcing me to look at him. "I said, look at me." Hesitantly, I meet his gaze. But I instantly regret it as his eyes pierce into mine sharply.
