All This Time

27 ⦿ in which he passes the first labor

Wolfram's apartment is less ostentatious than I expect, but still has a prestigious area code not too far from my current address. The elevator ride up to his floor is awkward, spent in sidelong glances and averted eyes. The door doesn't open for anyone else along the way, and by the time we reach our destination and the elevator doors slide open with a soft ping, I release the lungful of air I've been holding.

"After you." Wolf gestures ahead of him.

I step out, then let him take the lead as we head to his front door. After a moment spent digging in his pockets for the keys, he unlocks the door and turns to me, expectant.

Deciding to make him sweat a little, I smirk and fold my arms across my chest. "I'm waiting," I inform him in a lofty tone, gratified when I see his forehead scrunch in confusion.

"I don't follow," Wolf says, using his foot to prop the door open.

"You mean," I say, gasping with mock-outrage, "you're not going to carry me over the threshold?"

At the expression of dawning comprehension on his face, my smirk grows wider. "Ha. Gotcha."

"Very witty," Wolf drawls as I push past him—and I can sense rather than see his eye roll—"Very mature."

The foyer is small, cramped. There's a shabby-chic crate on its side, pushed up against the wall next to the door with men's shoes inside. From behind me, Wolf closes the door and kicks his shoes off in the direction of the crate.

Ahead, I see the gleam of stainless steel and large hanging lights. The kitchen, I surmise, deciding to give it a miss for now. Wandering, I explore the the rest of the house. The living room is the same as most living rooms - well-used couches and recliners aimed at the flat-screen television. There is a distinct lack of a feminine touch in the room. The furniture is masculine, dark-cherry wood and burgundy leather. All the surfaces are free of dust and the side tables have books on them. No pictures, anywhere.

"This is really..." I say, trailing off. "Normal," I finally settle upon.

"Good normal?"

I nod. "Good normal. Just not what I expected."

"Yeah, not what my mother expected, either." Wolf shrugs his shoulders. "I don't need an expensive apartment. Just enough to suit my needs."

"How'd you get into our place, anyway?" I ask, redirecting the conversation to a question that's been burning in my mind since I first got here. "I gave the house key to Levi before we left."

Wolf cocks his head at me. "Didn't he tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

He motions for me to sit down. Stiffly, I do so, perching on the edge of his leather sofa with deliberate primness.

"Dad owned the apartment. When Levi set out on his own, he gave him ownership of the place." A smug smile settles over his face. "I managed to keep hold of a set of keys." At the look on my face, he frowns, sitting opposite me on a leather recliner.

His arm drapes over the armrest and his fingers drum against it. Long, artistic fingers. I remember holding his hand in Efteling, but it feels so long ago, now. A pang of nostalgia hits me right in the chest, and it couldn't be more painful than if a big, fat, glaring what-if had slapped me in the face.

"You didn't really think he could afford that penthouse on an artist's salary, did you?" His voice is gentle.

"I guess I didn't really think about it."

Changing tack, he crosses his legs. "Is he really that good?"

"He has an exhibition coming up." I give him a challenging smile. "Come with me and see for yourself."