Ethan sat on the edge of the worn-out armchair, watching Zane’s chest rise and fall in the steady rhythm of sleep. After patching up his wounds the previous night, he’d insisted Zane stay over, despite the villain’s half-hearted protests. Now, in the muted morning light filtering through the blinds, Zane looked almost peaceful. Almost.
A heavy silence blanketed the apartment. The stillness felt fragile, like a glass surface that could shatter with a single wrong move. For once, Zane’s expression was unguarded—no smirk, no defiance, just the face of someone who had let their guard down, even if only for a moment.
Ethan rose carefully, not wanting to disturb him, and tiptoed toward the kitchen. He glanced back once more to make sure Zane was still sleeping before getting started on breakfast. A thoughtful expression crossed his face as he looked at the basic ingredients he had. He wasn’t much of a cook, but he figured he could whip up some scrambled eggs and toast. Simple enough, right?
Grabbing a frying pan, Ethan set it on the stove, turning on the heat. He cracked a couple of eggs into a bowl, whisking them with a bit too much force. The pan hissed as he poured the mixture in, the eggs bubbling almost immediately. He frowned, adjusting the flame lower. As he turned to grab a spatula, the smell of something burning hit him.
“What the—” Ethan turned back to see the eggs already starting to char around the edges, a thin trail of smoke rising from the pan. Panicking, he grabbed the handle, attempting to move the pan off the heat, only to jolt back when the heat shot through the thin oven mitt he’d hastily put on.
“Shit, shit, shit!” He scrambled for the stove knob, turning off the flame and waving the smoke away with his other hand.
A low, groggy chuckle sounded from behind him. Ethan whipped around to see Zane leaning against the kitchen doorway, an amused smile tugging at his lips despite the exhaustion still clinging to his eyes.
“Cooking for heroes 101: Don’t set the kitchen on fire,” Zane murmured, his voice gravelly with sleep.
Ethan flushed, his hand still hovering awkwardly over the pan. “I… uh, didn’t expect you to wake up so soon.”
“Well, it’s kind of hard to sleep through the smell of charred eggs.” Zane pushed himself off the doorframe, walking over to survey the damage. He glanced at Ethan’s reddening cheeks and raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re cut out for this domestic hero thing?”
Ethan shot him a half-hearted glare, trying to suppress his embarrassment. “I’m usually not this bad, okay? I was just… distracted.”
“Clearly,” Zane replied dryly, but his smile softened the comment. He stepped closer, reaching for the pan. “Move. I’ll handle it.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” Zane interrupted, a surprising firmness in his tone. He gently nudged Ethan aside, his fingers brushing against Ethan’s arm for just a moment—a brief, barely there touch that sent a shiver down Ethan’s spine. Zane lifted the pan with a practiced ease, scraping the ruined eggs into the trash before rinsing it off in the sink.
Ethan stood to the side, watching as Zane moved through the kitchen like he belonged there. It felt surreal—this dangerous, unpredictable person suddenly so at home in his tiny, cluttered apartment. Zane’s movements were sure and steady as he gathered fresh ingredients, cracked more eggs, and found a couple of tomatoes and an onion that had somehow avoided the fate of being forgotten at the back of the fridge.
“You know how to cook?” Ethan asked, his voice laced with genuine curiosity.
Zane glanced at him, a small smile playing on his lips as he chopped the vegetables with surprising precision. “What, you think villains don’t know how to use a kitchen? I’ve spent plenty of time fending for myself. Cooking’s just another skill you pick up when you don’t want to rely on anyone.”
“Is that your way of saying you never had anyone cook for you?”
The question hung in the air, and for a moment, Zane’s knife stilled against the cutting board. He didn’t look at Ethan as he resumed chopping, his shoulders tensing slightly.
“Let’s just say it wasn’t a priority,” Zane muttered, his voice low. “People like me don’t get the luxury of home-cooked meals.”
Ethan frowned but didn’t push further. Instead, he grabbed a mug and poured some coffee, sliding it over to Zane without a word. Zane paused, glancing at it before nodding in silent thanks.
They worked side by side in a strange sort of harmony—Zane chopping, sautéing, and flipping the eggs into a perfectly fluffy scramble, while Ethan handled the toast and set the table. The silence between them was comfortable, a marked difference from the tension that usually simmered just below the surface of their interactions.
When breakfast was finally ready, Zane stepped back, surveying his work with a critical eye before nodding in satisfaction. “There. Not bad for a supposed villain, huh?”
Ethan looked at the plate in front of him—scrambled eggs mixed with sautéed tomatoes and onions, a side of perfectly browned toast, and a couple of slices of fruit. It was far better than anything he could have managed.
“Okay, I’m officially impressed,” Ethan said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “You’re full of surprises, Zane.”
Zane smirked, that familiar hint of arrogance creeping back in. “Glad to know I can still keep you on your toes.”
They sat down to eat, the small kitchen table suddenly feeling a lot less empty with Zane’s presence filling the space. The food was good—really good. Ethan couldn’t help the appreciative noises he made as he ate, and Zane watched him with a pleased expression, like he’d won some sort of unspoken challenge.
“So,” Ethan said between bites, his gaze flicking up to meet Zane’s. “What’s the plan for today?”
Zane blinked, caught off guard. “Plan?”
“Yeah. I mean, you’re here. It’s Sunday. We could… I don’t know, do something.” Ethan shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Unless you’ve got some evil scheme you need to get back to.”
Zane stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to decipher some hidden meaning behind the words. “You’re… suggesting we hang out?”
“Yeah, why not?” Ethan replied, meeting Zane’s gaze head-on. “We’ve got the whole day. No battles, no masks. Just… two people, spending time together.”
“Is this some kind of reverse psychology?” Zane asked, narrowing his eyes. “Get the villain to drop his guard by showing him what a normal life looks like?”
“Believe it or not, I’m not that manipulative,” Ethan shot back, a wry smile on his lips. “I just thought… I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try being, you know, friendly.”
“Friendly,” Zane echoed, as if the word was foreign to him. He glanced down at his plate, his brow furrowing. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means we talk. We do something fun. Watch a movie, go for a walk, play a game… whatever. No strings attached. No hidden motives.”
“And you’re suggesting this because…?”
“Because I think you could use a break from being ‘the villain’ all the time.” Ethan’s tone was gentle, almost coaxing. “Even if it’s just for a day.”
Zane hesitated, his gaze searching Ethan’s face as if looking for a catch. But all he saw was sincerity—an open invitation without any judgment or expectation.
“Okay,” Zane said slowly, the word slipping out before he could second-guess it. “One day. But don’t get used to it, hero.”
Ethan’s smile widened, a genuine warmth spreading through his chest. “Deal.”
They finished breakfast in a companionable silence, a fragile truce forming between them. The world outside was still filled with shadows and uncertainty, but in this small apartment, a different kind of story was unfolding—one that neither of them had expected.
And for now, that was enough.
YOU ARE READING
Chasing Shadows
Teen Fiction"Chasing Shadows" is a tale of darkness, obsession, and unexpected desire. Zane, a calculating villain with a vendetta against the city's beloved hero, Asher, finds his meticulously crafted world disrupted by an unexpected presence-Ethan, the hero's...
