I've sprayed myself onto Avi's long leather white sofa as I stare aimlessly at his flat scene tv. The clock hits 4 am on his digital clock under his television, warning me that Maxim has 4 hours before Avi comes home.
I sigh and stretch letting out a somnolent yawn. I feel my heavy eyelids slowly come together even through all my efforts of trying to stay awake.
Drinking coffee. Watching television. Lowering the thermostat to a colder temperature. Alas, my long day between work, two deathly short calls, and interrogating a Russian mobster really took it out of me.
A loud thud makes me jolt up, slipping off the comfortable sofa. Maxim leans against the living room window outside, leaving a bloody handprint on the glass. I shoot off the floor and unlock the window causing him to slip inside practically unconscious.
"Maxim! Are you okay?" I ask bending down to his level while I take off his mask.
"Never better." He coughs. "This space smells...spacious." He says lifting his head up slightly.
"You definitely have a concussion," I tell him laughing at his comment.
"I saved the boy." He tells me with his eyes closed due to the size of his large smile, the biggest I've seen all night.
"You did?!" I ask, a smile of my own reaching my face.
"Yeah." He chuckles lowly. "Back home with his father." He adds. I smile a toothy grin at his success.
"Wow, that's great," I say full of joy. "You deserve it," I tell him as I slowly pull him up to his feet, bringing him to sit on a piece of furniture that isn't white.
"Deserve what?" He asks with a confused look on his face. The tips of his brows slant inwards causing a slight crease to form between them and on his forehead. His eyes squint slightly as his pupils dilate.
"A win," I say nudging his shoulder. He laughs before taking off the black shirt I loaned him. Red scrapes, open stitches, and fresh and dry blood stain his pale skin.
"Or maybe this wasn't a win," I say under my breath as I inspect all his wounds.
"It was worth it." He tells me still in his daze.
"Yeah, remember that when I'm stitching this back up," I tell him as I grab my bag with a smirk.
"What have you been doing?" Maxim asks as he settles himself deeper on the wooden chair, waiting for me to start patching him up.
"Oh nothing, just waiting for the vigilante to come home." I tease as I get out the bottle of alcohol and cotton pads.
"I am not a vigilante." He sighs, rolling his eyes.
"Says the man in the mask beating people up." I counter.
"For the greater good of the city." He adds trying to make a point.
"Yeah, yeah." I banter before pressing the disinfectant alcohol over his cuts making him grunt lowly, but his smile never leaves his face.
"Nothings gonna bring you down tonight, huh?" I ask referring to his cheery mood.
"Nope." He answers.
"I think I prefer moody you," I tell him as I start to stitch him up.
His hand wraps itself into a fist as he leans against the bar table, trying not to move as I push a needle through his skin, merging it back together.
He holds his breath and taps his feet viciously waiting for me to finish that stitch.
"It helps to talk it out," I inform him as I tighten the last stitch on his side, now moving to his abdomen.
"About?" He asks before halting when the needle pierces him again.
"Anything. Just start talking." I simply state.
"Whose apartment is this?" He asks looking around even though he can't physically see it.
"My coworkers," I answer.
"Is she a doctor?" He asks.
"Yeah, he's a neurosurgeon."
"Oh, wow." He whispers shocked.
"I know, makes a lot more than me that's for sure." I joke.
"And what exactly do you do?" He asks as I finish the last stitch, slowly moving higher up his body.
"Trauma surgeon," I answer swiftly.
"They make enormously above average. And yet..." He starts before trailing off, but I know where he is trying to go with it.
"And yet I live in a dangerous part of Hell's Kitchen in a stingy one-bedroom apartment with broken windows." I finish for him.
"I would have said it much nicer, but yeah." He laughs as I cover his stitches.
"Let's just say I need to be seen as...normal," I answer vaguely.
"Normal?" He asks.
"Yeah, you know. Struggling American." I answer.
"Do you really think all Americans are struggling?" He asks with a smirk.
"From what I can see, yes," I tell him with a smile of my own.
"You know you can drop the fake accent, right." He reminds me.
"Sometimes I forget I can stop the act when I'm alone, and now with you," I tell him, showing my real voice.
"How long have you been in America?" He asks as I grab him an ice pack from the freezer.
"Going to be 2 years in a few months," I tell him as I lay the cold frozen ice on his swollen lip and jaw.
"Wow, you really have everyone fooled don't you?" He asks making my heart sink slightly. Judging me as if I have a choice in the matter.
"All these questions for me, don't suppose I get to know about you?" I ask getting irritated at him.
"You can try." He says shrugging.
"What do you do?" I ask pulling up a chair.
"Wear a mask and save lives." He answers, giving me the knowledge I already know.
"I know that. I mea-" I start but he cuts me off.
"It's the truth." He states.
"What do you really do? Like, job?" I ask, but he never answers.
"Do you have any siblings?" I ask but am returned with more silence.
"Yes! Give me nothing! This sure as hell gives you my trust." I tell him angrily.
"I think you should go, I need to clean this up it's already 5:15, Alvi comes home soon," I warn getting tired of not having an inch of information about the man standing in front of me.
"Okay." He whispers before getting up and handing me back the bag of ice. He slips on his mask and walks to the window, crawling out of it, and standing on the fire escape.
"Good night, Daeva." He tells me, I roll my eyes in annoyance and put my hands on the window, ready to close it out of anger.
"Good night," I mutter starting to slam it closed but Maxim grabs it, pushing it back up.
He leans his head back in and gives me a pearly white grin.
"I'm an only child." He whispers before leaping back out and jumping down the fire escape, leaving me looking out at the night sky.
I look down to see him running across the street then masking himself with the night. I chuckle and roll my eyes before grabbing a wipe and starting to clean the bloody window.
He's an only child. I think to myself, knowing one extra thing about him now than from only a few hours ago. I smile slightly as I start to clean the rest of Avi's house before yawning and falling asleep on his couch, thinking about the man in the mask.
𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊
Cuteee, this chapter was so fun to write.
Vote and comment, please!
Word count: 1268
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