Finding Obsidian

15 - Apartment 212

I didn't pay attention as I left the classroom.

I didn't pay any mind to the concerned look on Rokim's face as I cleared my station. I didn't notice the venomous glare pinned on me as I walked out the door. I didn't even bother catching the bus.

I had other things on my mind. 

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depends how you look at it) the walk from the university to Rian's place wasn't very long. Barely 10 minutes had passed by the time I stepped in the lobby.

Partially in an effort to distract myself and also to sate my own curiosity, I examined the building. Last time I'd been there, I hadn't looked at my surroundings at all, but I was surprised to see that it was actually pretty nice. Much nicer than my apartment complex.

Maybe he has a high-end job? I wondered idly. Being able to afford a unit in a classy place like this required some serious cash. I made most of my capital by working out of the class' restaurant, which was run by Prof and paid pretty well. But even I was nowhere near wealthy enough to sustain the living expenses Rian must be dealing with.

Ah, right. Rian.

With a grimace, I forced myself to walk up to the elevator. I thoroughly checked for any Out-of-Order signs before reluctantly getting in and pressing the button for the second floor.

A minute later, I stood in front of Apartment 212. 

Once again, I couldn't help but wonder if he'd chosen this particular room number on purpose or if it was a random coincidence. Or maybe he's forgotten about it entirely, since he seems partial to doing that nowadays, I mused wryly.

Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I took a deep breath and released the fists I didn't know I had clenched.

And then I knocked. Once, twice, three times.

I waited impatiently, trying my best not to fidget. All this did was remind me how nervous I'd been the first time I came here, and the horrible sinking feeling in my gut when he saw me and I was sure he hated me. Which only grew a million times worse when he claimed not to remember me at all.

What's taking so long? It had been about a minute now, and no one had come to the door. I frowned and looked around for a doorbell, with no luck. A building this nice and no doorbell? Pretty weird, if you ask me. Maybe he had it removed, I thought curiously. He seems the type to avoid guests.

I knocked again, louder than before. It was unlikely that he wasn't home; Prof had checked his school schedule and confirmed that Rian didn't have any tutorials today. And given his antisocial tendencies, I figured there weren't many places outside his house that would suit his tastes. So what exactly was the holdup?

"Rian," I called, rapping on the door a third time. A sudden possibility dawned on me: what if Rian wasn't answering because he couldn't answer? What if he was hurt and unable to get up?

Filled with concern, I pressed my ear up against the door. After listening attentively for a moment, I began to withdraw my head. Maybe he really isn't home? I thought confusedly. Then a noise from inside attracted my attention again, and I strained my ears as best I could. I barely caught the sound of something like a glass breaking, followed by a low muffled groan. 

"Shit," I muttered, hurriedly reaching into the pockets of my peacoat. "Rian!" I called again, pounding the door with my free hand, but the voice I'd heard was silent now. Whether this silence was purposeful or not I didn't know, but I planned to find out.

"Sorry about this, Rokim," I murmured as I withdrew two bobby pins from my coat pocket. I'd assured him that I'd stop picking locks after I'd walked in on him—well, that part wasn't important. The point was I was breaking my promise, but it was for a good reason. I just hoped I wasn't too rusty.