The room had dramatically changed since when Andrea had seen it in the evening. Candles covered a good part of all the furniture, red and white and dark orange, a strong smell of incense filled his nostrils when Andrea inhaled.

The sky was a continuous shade of warmer colors the closer Andrea’s eyes got on the horizon. The curtains were neatly tied on each side of the three-panel window.

In the middle of it, laid Ishram.

He was kneeling in front of something Andrea couldn’t see, but he could make out the thin smoke spirals rising from the incense sticks.

On the bed rested the fire alarms, cables broken and teared through.

What, although, captured Andrea’s eyes was Ishram’s back.

He only wore a pair black fabric pants, other than that, he was naked and barefoot. His skin was uncharacteristically clean of scars, for someone who’s supposedly been fighting his whole life. His muscles defined his body in the right way to paint the perfect picture.

Yet, in right in the middle of his shoulder muscles, metal sank into the skin.

Smooth metal diamond-shaped plates started from his last cervical vertebra, down to his back dimples. The lower Andrea’s eyes went, the thinner and more elongated the plates became.

The higher plates had two horizontal ones at each side, digging into fresh skin.

Each plate started from under the previous one, curving together with Ishram’s spine. They allowed fluid movements, as Ishram bowed down until his elbows touched the ground, together with his head.

Now, Andrea could see properly what Ishram was facing; it was some sort of shrine. Dark red velvet fabric covered three boxes with small dishes on it. The latter were filled with ashes and embers from every burnt incense. In the middle of the shrine, Shanti’s picture.

Andrea’s heart sank in his chest.

Then, Ishram raised with his hands towards the sky. He was speaking in another language, Andrea couldn’t make out the words.

Andrea’s breath caught when he noticed the red-skin stretches from the metal. Whatever it was, it dug deep into Ishram’s back.

A choked noise escaped his throat, and Ishram froze.

“Ge out.”

Andrea was startled. Ishram didn’t even turn, didn’t even bother to acknowledge his presence.

Andrea stumbled back and closed the door behind him in a hurry. His heart-rate was spiking when he ran to his own room and closed it. He opened his own curtains and then hid underneath the bed sheets.

He stayed there for the whole time it took the sun to rise, slow and warm, and blinding.

Not even an hour had passed when Andrea heard a knock on his door. His eyes shot at the alarm. It was just a few minutes past six. Andrea didn’t reply, he didn’t move. Maybe, if he pretended to be asleep, they would leave him alone.

Another knock. And then another one. They were low, but there was an insistent rhythm to them.

“Fuck. Okay,” Andrea exhaled. “Okay.” He got up and opened the door just enough so he could peek outside. He didn’t open it completely.

Ishram stood outside with a somber expression. He wore a loose dark shirt, some kind of raw fabric, and the same pants Andrea had seen before.

When he spoke, his voice was harsh. “What was that.”

Guilt and anger mixed up inside Andrea; he wanted to be angry, he wanted to hate Ishram, but he couldn’t completely. Not as he wanted to.

“You left the door open, I couldn’t sleep with all that noise,” Andrea lied.

Silence.

God, what else did Ishram want from him? “I’m sorry! Okay? You don’t have to rub it in my face.”

Ishram didn’t reply. He just pushed the door, shoving Andrea back and walking in.

“Hey!”

Ishram hushed him and closed the door. Andrea gave him his best angry look, but Ishram just dismissed it with his hand.

He pushed his finger right against Andrea’s collarbone, tapping a few times. “I know you feel entitled to do all kinds of stuff to me because of what happened,” Ishram started, “but my patience has a limit. And you’re damn close to it if you keep interrupting the few things I have to do. I told you, I don’t want you to like me or be anywhere near me, but that doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want to me. So the question is, why do you keep doing that?”

Andrea worked around an answer, because he couldn’t really think of one. He stared, mouth gaping but forming no actual words, until he blurted out whatever his mind came up with. “I- I don’t know. It’s not like I still can make any sense of what’s going on here.”

Ishram looked annoyed. Bothered, really. Yet, all he did was step back and take a deep breath.

“I know, Andrea.” Ishram said, massaging his nose with a sigh. “Believe me, I know,” he added as he sat down on Andrea’s bed, legs crossed. “As I know how explaining everything will be only make things more complicated. It’s a lot to take in, my world. That’s why we share it bit by bit,” Ishram stared at the sun. “You don’t have to know about it, but you look like someone who wants to.”

Andrea kept silent. He was still uncertain—he didn’t- couldn’t trust Ishram. But neither could completely ignore the fact that Andrea was in this as much as Ishram was, whether they liked it or not.

So far, fighting Ishram had led to nothing but empty threats. “Alright,” he breathed through, taking a seat on the bed.

Ishram looked at him. His eyes were crystal clear; he was showing more understanding than Andrea would’ve given him credit for.

“You’re not forgiving me for what I’ve done,” he whispered. “You’re not betraying him by cooperating with me to stay safe. We have time for you to be comfortable with this.”

Andrea didn’t answer. His mind wouldn’t allow him to think about anything. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about it. He hadn’t allowed himself much, if he were honest.

It sucked, that of all people who understood, Ishram had to be the first.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Andrea let out, desperation giving way to resignation.

Ishram chuckled, low and brittle. “You’ll get used to it,” he reassured with a light tone.

Andrea turned and met Ishram’s eyes. He was staring at Andrea with still a soft smile on his lips, but Ishram’s eyes didn’t match up the expression. They felt ancient, distant.

You’ll never, Andrea thought, thinking about Ishram’s words back at the workshop. A different kind of reassurance settling deep within him. He never did.

Andrea hesitated. “Okay,” he whispered back.

It felt little less alone. Even though it meant sharing the knowledge with his best friend’s killer. Andrea was less alone.

[:::]

Ishram left shortly after exiting Andrea’s room. He had little time, and so much to do. It didn’t help that he was already tired by the time he reached the main hall. Ross told him she’d wait for him by the residence’s bar, only Ross wasn’t alone. She was chatting with Kibwe at one of the inner bar’s tables while he was eating breakfast.

Black coffee and a small bagel, by the smell of it.

Ishram settled down on a spare chair, startling Kibwe with a yawn. “‘Morning,” he greeted the man.

“Good morning,” Kibwe smiled back, barely hiding the heavy bags under his eyes. “Ross was just telling me she’s gonna teach you how to drive.”

Ross sighed. “Yeah, probably how to nap, too.”

Ishram shot her a glare. “Don’t start,” he grumbled.

Kibwe frowned at both of them as Ross pointed her manicured nail at him, and pushed it against his chest. “You look exactly the same you looked yesterday, if not more tired. Did you even try?”

Ishram stared at an unimpressed Ross for way too much. He knew she knew, because it was true. He had stayed up so he could prepare Shanti’s memorial as soon as he’d come back from Ross’ workshop.

“It’s not like I don’t do it every time, Ross,” he grumbled.

“Oh my god, I will hit you in the head with a shovel and make you sleep, you idiot.”

Kibwe’s laugh interrupted their bickering. When Ishram turned, the man was using his hand to hide his mouth as he laughed. It was… strange, to say the least. Ishram had imagined many reactions from him, yet casualness wasn’t one of them.

When Kibwe noticed Ishram was staring, he coughed and composed himself. “Sorry,” he whispered towards Ross. “You sound- very good friends.”

Ross caught the hint way better than Ishram. She leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs one over the other. “Centuries of bullshit and trouble do that to people yes. Besides, his sister would have my head if I didn’t keep his sorry ass out of trouble. Need someone to keep this dumbass in one piece.”

“Excuse you?”

The bickering started again, and Ishram let Ross drag his mind away from the heaviness of its own thoughts. He knew everyone missed this, and he did, too. Ross was simple to talk to, and she was damn good at keeping his drama at bay, as she liked to boast.

They eventually stopped, and Ross nodded towards Kibwe. “By the way, this one has something to say.”

Kibwe cleared his throat. “Is it okay if I stick around?” he asked, eyeing Ishram.

Ishram found Ross’ eyes, and knew in a second that Kibwe hadn’t told her what he planned on asking. They both exchanged a silent question. Still, he knew Ross would wait for him to agree, because Ross (and many others, really) had that kind of habit.

Ishram couldn’t blame them. He’d look for someone too, if only he weren’t the oldest one in the building.

Ishram shrugged. Because, why not?

“You might be a better teacher than her,” he loud-whispered. “And by better, I mean not reckless.”

This time, it was Ross who raised a hand to her chest and faked a wounded sound. “Sir. I am wounded.”

Ishram smiled, shaking his head and huffing. “I don’t mind. If- is that okay with your wife? Does Andrea know?”

“They’re tired, and they both need their sleep.” Kibwe scratched his neck, unease settling on his features. “I- I need a distraction.”

Ross raised from her seat, clapping her hands. “Well then, it’s decided. I’ll go pay, you guys get ready. There’s a car waiting just for you—I hope you like it, Ish, because I ain’t buying another one.”

Ishram frowned as he stood up, only to be stopped by Kibwe who followed Ross. “Hey, no, please. You didn’t even eat anything- let me pay.”

Ishram snorted when Ross bluntly grabbed Kibwe by the shoulders and turned him around. “Now, now, I told you this was on the house. It’s his money anyway, he’s the spoiled brat,” she said, pointing at Ishram. “So you better give your money back to him, if you really have to.”

Kibwe heard, of course, but he didn’t see the knowing wink Ross shot him before nudging Kibwe towards him.

“Ishram, please-”

Ishram turned and hurried outside the residence. He also shook his head as he walked.

“C’mon, you’ve already wasted money on that suite, this is nothing-”

Ishram tapped on his ears. “Can’t hear you!”

Finally, Kibwe let it go with a resigned sigh and accepted to follow Ishram along in offended silence. 

A chauffeur approached them with polished-looking car keys in their hands. “Mr. Sa‘id?” they asked.

Ishram took the keys and looked around. “Um.”

“Right here, sir, I’ll walk you,” the chauffeur offered.

Ishram followed the young human until they reached the residence the drop-off area. Other people taking their luggage from their cars or taxis, before handling their keys to one of the staff. Ishram stared as a woman drove away with one of the client’s cars. It felt unnecessary, yet many things the humans did felt so. Ishram didn’t question it.

He’d already gotten general ideas of how the twenty first century worked so far. It was a shame he’d have to actually live it in order to confirm or deny the feeling his readings gave off.

The chaffeur stopped in front of a black SUV and smiled. “May I help you with anything else?” they asked.

Ishram shook his head, so the human could be dismissed and return to their duties without further ado.

The car was a shining black, polished and well-kept. Kibwe whistled next to him. “Oh boy,” was all Kibwe let out as they saw it.

“What?” Ishram asked when Kibwe didn’t elaborate. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Wrong? Oh, nothing. It just- this is really like an action movie.”

Ishram frowned and looked at the Chevrolet. “Looks sturdy. We might need sturdy.”

Kibwe turned to look at him. “You’ve gotten yourself in car chases?”

Ishram shrugged. What, exactly, had he not gotten himself into? That must’ve been a shorter list. “Not only cars. At first it was horses. Once on a bike, too,” he murmured. “Ah, good times.”

“That’s not reassuring. But, uh, I’m glad you’re taking precautions at least.”

“Hmpf, of course we take precautions. Mostly for Andrea’s safety,” he explained, “if he dies, it’s all over. And I like my freedom just fine right now, thank you.”

Kibwe indulged longer than expected when he looked at him. To the point he was straight up staring.

Ishram shifted on his feet. “What?” he asked.

“I was- thinking,” Kibwe mumbled. “That’s a cruel thing to wish upon anyone,” he explained, “to- bound you to some random person for the rest of their life. It seems all too complicated, and uselessly painful.”

Ishram swallowed. He could say many things, many of which were bitter and sharp, because he’d known of few ways to hide the things that made him uncomfortable. But, this was Kibwe. This was someone who’d put his whole life in Ishram’s hands.

Ishram figured he owed the man a bit more than a snarky and evasive reply. “It is,” he exhales.

“It’s- it’s hard to imagine anyone wanting to do this to someone-”

“It’s not.” His voice came out far drier than he originally intended to. Still, there was little he could do to take back the bile. “We take pride in tricking humans, making them think we are like them and nothing else exists in this world beside them. Especially knowing we hunt and feast on their kind. It’d be only logical that we’d take pride in chaining and besting our own. Kishaard is a selfish kin, we’ve never been big on groups or families. We only respect power-”

Someone patted him on the shoulder.

“Why is it that every time I leave you alone, you end up talking about death, destruction, and other depressing topics?” Ross asked, lively as usual. “Don’t trust him. We’re not all rotten to the core—a few of us are actually very nice, and with somewhat of a moral compass.”

Ishram ignored how Ross winked at him and grinned.

“Now, let’s go see how much money Ishram will waste when he’ll crash this baby.”

Ishram rolled his eyes. “Fuck you, I’m a good driver,” he shot back.

Ross pig-snorted. “Yeah. Suuure.” And off she went, stealing his keys only to throw them at Kibwe. “The wheel is all yours!”

Ishram grunted as they got on the car, even though he was already smiling back at Ross after a few seconds. Only by chance did he notice Kibwe smirking at them as they bickered along the way.

It almost felt like Kibwe liked them.

Ishram wasn’t sure how to place the emotion. But he kept quiet. Because he wasn’t about to ruin the peaceful, frail peace they’d recreated. Not any time soon, at least. And hopefully, not by his own volition.