Elijah's POV

It was already dark by the time I got back to my apartment, snowflakes clinging to my coat and dark, auburn strands as they fell gracefully from the star-littered sky. Ares had dropped me off after our work shift was over, and I was tired, cold, and hungry.

"I'll see you at hockey practice tomorrow." Ares called out from the driver's seat. I turned to him and flashed a smile.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," I replied, closing the car door. I waved at him through the passenger window, and Ares waved back before driving off.

I watched him go, and with a heavy breath, tucked my hands into my coat pockets and headed to the front doors of the complex.

A gust of warm air hit me the moment I stepped into the main lobby. I headed up the elevators to my floor, and when I reached my apartment door, I grabbed my keys out of my coat pocket, unlocking the door.

And as I walked into my apartment, breathing in the familiar bouquet of wood and citrus, I almost cried in relief. Almost. It was so nice to finally be home after a long, busy day.

"Hey, how was work?" Preston called out when I walked into our living space, after taking off my scarf and blundstone boots. He was lounging back on the couch in sweats and a Leighton hoodie, a show playing on the TV, a bowl of popcorn in his hand, and Latte curled up on his lap.

"Long and tiring." I released a heavy breath, dropping my bag and keys onto the kitchen table. "How was rehab?"

"Long and tiring." Preston smirked. I rolled my eyes and chuckled. "I just got back an hour ago."

"Was it okay though?" I raised a brow at him. I slipped off my coat, draped it over the chair, and wandered over to the couch.

Preston nodded, his smirk fading to the briefest of smiles. "Yeah, it was fine."

I walked around to the front of the couch and fell back on it next to Preston, slouching into the soft cushions with a groan. Latte stirred in his sleep from my sudden movements, his cute eyes dozy as he stretched his paws out and yawned.

"The couch is so soft. And cozy. I could fall asleep right now." I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

"You better not fall asleep." Preston poked me with his foot. "Blaire, Prim, and Flores will be here soon to study, and Blaire will kick your ass if you skip out on it."

I groaned louder, opening my eyes to meet Preston's amused gaze. He scratched the top of Latte's head, his loud purrs echoing.

"That's tonight?"

"It's Thursday. We always study on Thursdays, remember?"

"Ugh, I don't want to study." I slumped further into the couch, digging my fingers into my temples. "I just want to eat a late dinner and go to bed."

"Good luck trying to tell Blaire that," Preston said, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"The universe really wants me to suffer today, doesn't it?" I complained. Preston shrugged and smiled.

"That's when you tell the universe to go fuck itself." Preston shoved more popcorn into his mouth. He dipped his head back to face the ceiling, and with his mouth full of buttery, half-chewed popcorn, he shouted. "You hear that, universe? Fuck you! Go shove it where the stars don't shine!"

I burst out laughing. I nearly choked and knocked the breath out of myself from how hard I laughed. Preston flickered his gaze back to me and smirked, chewing and swallowing the rest of the popcorn that was in his mouth.

"But then again, the universe would probably like that, wouldn't it? The little slut."

I did choke that time. I coughed and wheezed, covering my mouth with my hands. I laughed in between coughs, tears in my eyes. It was Preston's turn to laugh, and he too, was rendered to tears by how hard I was laughing.

I took deep, heavy breaths, slowly calming myself down. I placed a hand on my chest, my abs on fire and my face burning. Preston coughed loudly, choking on a small piece of popcorn, nearly sending me into another laughing episode.

"Holy fuck." He wheezed. He reached for his water that sat on the coffee table next to him, taking large gulps of it. His movements were enough to stir Latte, and he got up from Preston's lap, yawning and stretching his front and back legs.

"What the fuck, Latte?" Preston scoffed in disbelief. Latte came over to me and curled up on my lap, purring and meowing. I grinned, brushing my fingers through his soft fur, and kissed the top of his head.

"It's your fault for nearly choking to death from a popcorn kernel."

Preston huffed. "Whatever. I need more popcorn anyways."

He got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen with his near-empty bowl. I shook my head and laughed.

- ❋ -

It was roughly an hour later when Blaire, Prim, and Flores arrived at our apartment. We got comfortable around the living room, lounging on the floor and the couch with blankets and throw pillows, our notebooks and laptops scattered about. We brought out some late-night snacks and non-alcoholic drinks to munch on while we studied, setting them out on the coffee table, and I also ordered pizza for the five of us.

We didn't study long. Just like every study night, it was only a matter of time before one of us got distracted—and when one of us got distracted, we all got distracted.

"Latte, over here, sweetie. Come on, look at me!" Blaire snapped her fingers at him, her phone shoved in his face.

He looked adorable, all sprawled out on his fluffy white cat bed, perched just next to the couch by the wall. Blaire had been trying for the last 30 minutes to get the perfect picture of him to capture his lovableness, but he kept moving and turning his head, much to her despair.

"Clearly, he doesn't like you," Preston told her from where he was slouched on the couch. He had his back against the armrest, legs stretched out in front of him, and a fleece-knitted teddy bear blanket cuddled around him.

He picked up his pepperoni pizza from the plate resting on his chest and took a bite out of the slice, unbothered by the menacing glare Blaire whipped around and gave him.

"Excuse me? He loves his Auntie Blaire. Don't you, my sweet little bundle of fluff?" Blaire turned back to Latte and cooed. She scratched under his chin and kissed his nose, soft purrs rumbling from him.

I shook my head and laughed. I laid curled up in a warm, chunky wool blanket in between Preston's legs, my head resting on his thigh. My glasses sat awkwardly on my face from how I was lying, but I didn't have the energy to move them.

My eyelids were heavy. It took everything in me not to close my eyes and fall asleep, and it didn't help that Preston had his free hand in my hair, his fingers gently digging into my scalp and brushing stray strands out of my face.

It was a losing battle. Each soothing caress lulled me further to the brink of sleep—there was no fight left in me and I ended up letting my eyes drift close, quietly listening to the ongoing banter.

"No no, he loves his Auntie Prim more." Prim declared. "I'm the one who brings him treats."

"No way. He loves Uncle Flores the best." Flores said. "Maybe if you two didn't shove your phones in his face all the time, he'd love you just as much as he loves me."

I didn't have to open my eyes to know that Preston was rolling his eyes at them. He huffed out a breath, his fingers stopping their massage on my scalp for the briefest of moments. "You're all wrong. Are you guys his Dads? No. He loves Elijah and me the best. End of story."

A smile crossed my face. I hugged my arms around Preston's leg, his fingers resuming their gentle brushing.

Blaire blew a raspberry. "You're such a party pooper."

"You're just jealous," Preston said in a sing-song tone.

"As if I would be jealous of you—"

The two of them bickered back and forth, their arguing lasting for minutes until it came to an abrupt stop. I suddenly felt a weight jump on me, a chirpy meow ringing in my ears to let me know it was Latte. He came up and curled up between Preston and I, and I just knew, that Preston was wearing a smug smirk on his face.

The conversation turned elsewhere—to our nearing midterm exams, to the bonfire party happening this weekend, and our upcoming restaurant gig downtown next week. The more I listened to them talk, the more I started to doze off, gradually falling into a dreamless slumber.

My phone vibrated in my hoodie pocket, startling me awake. I blinked my eyes open, rubbing them awake as I pulled my phone out of my pocket, its bright screen flashing in my face.

I squinted and checked the notification, my heart fluttering in my chest.

It was a text from Luka.

I unlocked my phone, quickly pulling up our message history.

It was a photo. A photo of the painting that Luka showed me the other night, perched elegantly on its easel, looking even more hauntingly beautiful than I remembered it being.

Luka Whitfield
I just finished it tonight
and as promised, you're the first one who gets to see it.

A wide smile adorned my face. I bit my lip, cheeks flushed red.

I zoomed in on the photo, admiring the intricate details of the painting, the dark shadows and bursts of gold, the terrifyingly tall creature with its hands curled around the victim—and the crown on top of the victim's head, made up of rubies and roses, close to toppling off.

It was all breathtaking.

Elijah Flores
I'm in love with it
Maybe I should marry the painting instead

Luka Whitfield
You really love it that much?

Elijah Flores
Yes.

Luka Whitfield
Haha, how adorable.
Does this mean that you're agreeing to marry me?

Elijah Flores
No.

Luka Whitfield
Wowwww
I give you husband privileges by showing you my art
Art that only you have gotten to see
And this is how you repay me?

Elijah Flores
You're just going to have to try harder

Luka Whitfield
Don't tempt me, lovely.

I shook my head, the blush on my face burning hotter. I sent another text back, before shutting my phone off and closing my eyes, a smile still etched on my face.