I turned the key into the doorknob, then twisting the apartment door open. Surprisingly, the complex smelled clean. I expected the smell of moldy milk and rotten food to hit me, but I only smelled bleach. I shut the door behind me and placed the cardboard box onto the living room table. Only brought one since most of my things were already at Damien's. Already at home. I packed away what I had in the living room and kitchen -it was only a couple of mugs and a fairly small photo album I had. The bedroom would probably have most of my things. I cleaned out the closet. It held some more formal attire and shoes that were here, but never worn. Under the bed was mostly random things. Receipts, trash, an uncashed check. In the back, by the wall, there was a small, locked metal box. I struggled to reach it before it had swung into my grasps. On the top, written in black sharpie, labelled 'Damien'. Strangely, it seemed to be in my hand writing. This wasn't my box, or at least I didn't remember it. I tried to pry the box open with force but nothing happened. Maybe there was a key somewhere. Maybe Damien had the key. It had his name on it. I placed the box onto the cardboard box and covered it with some of my other items. The thought weighed heavy in my mind. What was inside that box? Was it even mine in the first place?
"Hey!" Someone called from the doorway of the apartment. I jerked from panic and rose to my feet. I sighed a breath of relief, "Mrs. Neal! How have you been?"
"Oh, it's going..." She peered behind my shoulder to get a glance, "Moving out? You've barely even lived here?"
I shrugged, "Plans changed, I guess."
"You moved in with that fellow? That one that owns that big ole business"
I nodded, "That's the one."
Mrs. Neal laughed and clutched onto her purse before remembering why she was there.
"Oh, (Y/N)! I've been collecting your mail since you left. Most of it is junk, but some seem important." She handed me the fairly large stack and grinned, "Some look very important." I rolled my eyes and collected the stack. I awkwardly gestured to the open door, "I better get going actually. I'm sure my boyfriend is waiting on me."
Mrs. Neal smiled and slowly stepped out of the way. I locked the apartment up and had started walking back down to the parking lot before she called to me again.
"(Y/N), dear." Her voice traveled down the hallway. I turned with a smile, but was greeted with a stone, cold face.
"Remember, dear." She began, "Memento Mori."
"Who said that?" Chase questioned before shoving the burger into his mouth.
"My old neighbor, Mrs. Neal." I explained, still pondering aloud, "What does it even mean? Memento mori?
"Maybe it means good luck or something. Like, 'good luck with your boyfriend', that type of thing."
We both ended up shrugging it off.
"Anyways." I cleared my throat, "How's it going with Stacy and Olivia?"
"Can we not talk about the battle between my ex-wife and daughter?" He begged, "My life is always court or work, so I'd rather just eat and talk about other things, please."
"Sorry." I rolled my eyes. Chase was more on the boring side to talk to. It only got interesting when he talked about Stacy, but that was only when he's drunk, which was more often then him being sober. Chase was so focused on hiding his past, it made him annoying and irritable at times.
"Did you hear about Abe?" Chase softly whispered, "He quit last week."
"Woah." I blinked, "He quit? What happened to his shares of the corporation?"
"Damien has them on hold for someone right now, probably another heavy spender. But isn't' that strange?" Chase sighed, "He was a co-founder of the corporation, and he just up and left while you and Damien were gone."
"Where is he now?"
"No one knows. Not even Pamela, and they were close before Abe left. I think he went back home to New York, probably got bored or something."
We sat in silence for what seemed like hours. Chase kept glancing at me, then to the window next to us. He seemed upset, tense almost. I opened my mouth to speak, but he snapped to attention. Chase stood there for a second, not making a word. His mouth opened and closed as if there was something he needed to say. But he dismissed it. Chase snatched up his wallet and shoved it into his pocket before he rushed out of the little restaurant. I watched him trail down the street, disappearing around the corner. My mouth was still slightly agape. I smacked some cash down onto the table, collected my things, and left.
Damien waited for me while I pulled into the courtyard. He smiled and greeted me with a kiss, "Get everything? Get lunch?"
"It was short-lived." I shrugged as I held a large box in my arms, "And he left me with the check." Damien laughed and grabbed another box from the car. The front door opened, revealing Chef Kenshin, who was smiling as bright as ever.
"Long time, no see, miss (Y/N)!" He grinned, "I've prepared a very nice desert for you tonight, and I'm sure you'll enjoy it."
"Thank you, Kenshin." I said. Damien excused himself as he reached his phone from his pocket and disappeared behind his office door. Kenshin then slowly pulled me to the kitchen, and he placed a cup of tea in front of me. He stared out of the garden window for a moment before he slowly turned back to me. He was strangely silent for once. I swallowed what was in my mouth, "Everything alright?"
"My life is here." He mumbled, almost non-verbally.
"Excuse me?"
"I work here," Kenshin began, "I eat here, I sleep here sometimes." His eyes came to mine, and they darkened sharply, "My life is here." I hesitantly rested a hand onto his shoulder, to which he jerked away.
"Memento Mori."
"What-"
"Cory!" Damien's voice boomed. We both seemed to snap back to reality.
"Damien." Kenshin called, "I'm not feeling well. May I leave?"
Damien nodded slowly and watched as Kenshin swiped up his coat and bag, and left through the front door.
"What does that mean?" I questioned, "Memento Mori?"
Damien's face was blank for a moment before he shook his head and laughed, "Not sure, never even heard it before."

YOU ARE READING
Out of Control (Damien x Reader)
FanfictionYour life was going just fine. Well, better than it ever has growing up. Sure, you're living in a pretty crappy apartment, with some pretty crappy people. And sure, you're working at a job that BARELY pays for anything! But you were happy! When a...