Before the Sun

Chapter Ten- Nemesis

"No, absolutely not."

Nikolai pauses, gun in hand with a complete and utter humourless look struck across his face. His eyebrow quirks and a huff of annoyance falls from his lips.

"It has to come with me, I've already cleared it with the school."

He sighs, tucking the weapon into the back of his trousers. My eyes roll of their own accord, prolonged and overdramatic. I'm almost hurt by his lack of self awareness. After all of the nights and days we have spent together- I thought maybe an ounce of my common sense may have rubbed off on him. My heeled boots clash against the floor, echoing through the curves and arches above as his arm falls into my hands. I tug him through the penthouse and back up the stairs in which he came from only moments ago. His body is stiff, rigid with uncertainty at the unusually close contact of us. He's much taller than myself, even with the added height of the stilts on my feet. He could easily turn us around if he wishes, but he doesn't. He doesn't put up even the slightest of fights. He simply allows me to pull him back into his bedroom, not a question asked. The space is pristine, military style cleanliness. Not a spec of dust tainting any counter top, nor a crease in any sheet of fabric.

"Change."

I demand, head motioning to the double doored closet ahead of us. Only Nikolai doesn't budge. I'm met with a look of flatness. I greet his expression with a helping hand, entering his closet and tugging normal clothes from their hangers. Black hoodie, blue jeans. They're thrown on his bed, a cringe emitting from the man as my lazy toss ruins the crease free sheets.

"Why can't I wear this?"

Nikolai grumbles, his head dipping to motion to the black suit and white shirt shaping his frame. My eyes widen, bulging from my skull as if offended by his stupidity.

"Nikolai, sunshine, we're going to college, not the Met Gala. People are already going to be staring when they see a freaking greek god on my tail for the entire day, there's no need to draw more attention by putting said greek god in a tailored suit. So please, for my sake, put the normal clothes on your body."

My face is crawling in heat and stained with a ruddy rose by the time I've finished my venting. And my frustration only grows stronger when my eyes meet the smirking face of Nikolai before me. His attempt at sufficing the humour bubbling within him fails greatly as a chuckle, deep and gravelled, sounds from his chest.

"It's not funny, Nikolai! I'm stressing, I'm completely and totally stressing!"

I shout, only he continues to laugh. My hands shake, tugging them through my hair and wishing away the fear drowning my body. I find a seat on the edge of his bed, flinging my body back as my hands shield my face. His laughing stops, a few footsteps sounding before I can feel the sensation of his being at my feet. Two large hands tug my own back into a sitting position. A finger finds beneath my chin and a pair of splitting blue eyes meet my stare. I gulp down the burst of warmth that just exploded within me at the feeling of his touch on my own.

"You think I look like a greek god?"

Nikolai murmurs. I tut, swiping his hand away and delving myself back into the sheets of his bed.

"Of course that's the part of my rant you decide to focus on."

He laughs. Small lines form at the corners of his eyes and two dimples pop at the ends of his smile. My brain falters, maybe at the fact that the sight of Nikolai laughing is such a rare happening, or maybe at the fact that he has such a perfect laugh. I believe it's the mixture of them both that creates such a storm of emotions within me. When he only shows his smile and laugh once a month, it seems, and every other day I'm met with this professional look of cold, emotionless solidity, it makes it all worth it. Every morning of cold shoulders and icy stares, they're all made up for by this occasional smile.