With sunlight streaming in through the shutters, Alena lazily made herself some coffee. Then she nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw a flash of Ian's clothes in her periphery. She whipped around to find the boy from the bridge leaning against the doorframe. His half-lidded gaze tracking every movement of her hands on the kettle. 

Seriously, how could she completely forget about him sleeping over? Only at times like these would she ever admit to herself that being so laid back wasn't her most adaptive trait.

She offered him some coffee, which he shyly accepted, though he didn't take one sip. Clearly he wasn't a fan of anything too bitter.

"You can sit," she suggested. "I'll make us something edible. Eggs should be easy, right?"

But he stayed right where he was, which was just out of her way, until she was finished burning their meal into existence. 

"I don't usually cook," she warned, finally taking a seat at their little table. "So, just use a lot of seasoning if it helps."

The boy's hand lifted to his shirt again. 

"Mn, the owner of that did the cooking, but he won't be needing it back anytime soon." Alena waved her hand vaguely, like she was erasing the topic, not wanting to talk about it. "I'm planning on moving to Rive soon, which is why everything's in boxes. And you? Are you in university?"

He nodded, then very tentatively told her what year. His quiet voice wasn't honey sweet, but silken, falling gently around her ears. 

She cracked a half-smile. "Aha, so we're not so different in age. Only difference is that I started working sooner. Do you still live with your parents? Should I give them a call and tell them you're okay?"

His expression turned unexpectedly chilling. 

"Got it," she slowly nodded. "Both of mine passed away sometime last year, though we were never particularly close. Probably because I was a pretty stupid kid."

The boy carefully lowered his scarf to begin eating but kept a protective hand on it. 

"It's bad, right?" Alena asked, earning a narrowed glance before she pointed at the eggs. 

But to his credit, he scraped the plate clean. 

After pulling his scarf back up, and clearly feeling more secure, he peeked around the bright apartment. Then began fiddling with his shirt buttons again, like they were itchy. But she didn't say a word until he finally lost his patience and pointed demandingly at the shirt like a child. 

"What, you're curious about the owner?" Alena hummed, and the boy nodded. "You aren't?"

Biting the bait, he cleared his throat to answer her. "I am."

"Ah, he and I met in high school. We were in the same class, and he sat two seats in front of me. We finally noticed each other because we were often sent to detention for causing trouble." Alena propped her chin in her palm. "He did karate, and I did cross-country."

The boy's eyebrows lifted, indicating that he wanted to hear more. With his hair brushed away from his face, that was a provocatively beautiful expression. 

But she gave a bit of a mean smile. "What do I have to say to a kid who isn't telling me anything about himself? I don't even know your name."

His gaze turned pointed, and it struck Alena that she'd never given him hers either. Maybe she'd grown too used to everyone already knowing it. Knowing it, and attaching it to Ian's. 

Without thinking, she reached forward to pinch his wrist, startling him. 

"Why, you reckless thing! Following a complete stranger home like this. What if I'd tried to do something to you, like harvest your organs?" she laughed. "I'm Alena Tarasov."

The brat still didn't share his own name, but that was fine. 

They spent the day inside the apartment. He helped her pack away the bookshelf and the curtains in the lounge. They also stitched up his dirty shirt from last night, though there was no salvaging his pants. 

Then they watched a movie, eating home-made popcorn piled with salt. And his reluctance to leave grew palpable with every passing hour. 

He sat on the other end of the couch, hugging a pillow. Not one hour had passed without him glancing over to check her reactions, and he only calmed down after learning she had no intention of leaving the house today. Or the next day. And whenever she spoke, she felt his full attention pin to her, like nothing else mattered but what she was about to say. 

Though late in the evening, after spending two whole days together, she kept her gaze glued to the screen.

"I'm not rich or anything, so this apartment's pretty cheap. It's also close to your university, right? So rent it from me. Tell your caregivers you found this place, and half the money's still being paid by the previous tenant, who's using it for storage. Then move in here. I'll be leaving soon anyway." Finally, she looked at him. "I can talk to them if you don't want to."

He dazedly faced forward, not saying a word. 

Had she crossed some line? She waited for him to say something, but they finished watching the movie in silence. Then she wished him goodnight, because what else was she supposed to do? And went to her room. She fell asleep wondering if he'd mistaken her intentions, or if she should apologise and withdraw her offer. 

But the next morning, he was gone. 

Him and her scarf.