blood runs red ✓

XXV

'people are afraid of falling in love because they don't want to suffer'

- isabel allende  

august

When Ares angrily stormed out of the restaurant, dropping off his cousin, August didn't expect to be taken to Ares' house. The boxer declared he'd never taken anyone to his home a while back, and now August was standing awkwardly outside the apartment block, waiting to be told what to do.

"Well? Come on." Ares commanded, unlocking the main door and going straight to the elevator. 

August had only just then realised how tall the building was when he saw buttons in the elevator going up to one-fucking-hundred. He felt his ears pop nearer to the higher floors, and he then realised that Ares lived on the top floor.

Fucking hell he's rich.

The two stopped off at the ninety-ninth floor only to go into another elevator, one that had Ares' handprint to unlock it. They went one floor up, to the hundredth floor, directly into the penthouse suite.

It's like in Annie-

August's jaw immediately dropped. The apartment was fucking beautiful. Its colour scheme was similar to Ares' office, ranging from dark greys to black. The outer walls were mostly windows, ones that went from the ceiling to the floor.

The living room was open-plan, with three sofas in a U-shape, the middle one facing a TV on the part of the wall the wasn't made of glass. A glass table was in the middle of the sofas, resting on dark, wooden-flooring.

Ares walked into a small closet, taking his coat and shoes off and placing them away neatly. "Put your stuff in here for now."

August looked down at what he was wearing, and remembered the obnoxious bruise on his throat. "No thank you."

"Shoes off in my place. I fucking hate dirty floors."

Mumbling a quick apology, August undid his laces and took his converses off, walking over to the boxer and giving them to his outstretched hands. Ares made a face, and then placed the shoes down. They stood out against his pristine collection of fancy footwear, and August felt embarrassed. 

"I'm assuming you won't be taking that off?"

"It's cold." August clutched his hoodie sleeves protectively. He really didn't want to have to take off his clothes.

"I can change the temperature if you want." Ares offered. 

"No, it's fine."

Ares eyed the smaller man and simply walked out of the room, over to his kitchen, August following behind like a lost puppy. He made his way over to the cupboards, getting out two glasses of water and filling them up with water from the fridge's dispenser. 

Placing them on the kitchen island, he sat down on the bar stool and pulled one out for August, who sat quietly with a bewildered look on his face.

Sean's house was fancy, of course it was, but it was bright. Ares' apartment was dark, and somehow fancier. The kitchen had LEDs on the floor and marble countertops everywhere. It was mesmerising. This was the type of apartment he'd dreamed of having his entire life.

"You hungry?"

August shook his head, not wanting to be any more of a bother. He'd already intruded in the man's home, and now he was sitting in his kitchen drinking ice-cold water. That was enough.

"You didn't eat much earlier." Ares stated. "And now you're saying you're not hungry? That's absurd."

The Venezuelan man was about to protest, but Ares had already stood up and made his way over to the stove. "You want pasta?"