The wardrobe. It was the only place.
I leapt. Like actuallyleapt. Closed the drawer, flung open the wardrobe, climbed inside and yanked the door shut with a soft snick just as the room door opened.
And closed.
My heart did the same.Thud. Silence. Thud.
It was then I realised just how daft I was. Why the wardrobe of all places? He just came out of the bathroom and the first place he’d go to would be where he’d find clothes to wear.
Shit. Getting caught red-handed was better than this.
Footsteps padded across the room, and I held my breath as they came in my direction, only to change course just before he got to the wardrobe.
My eyes squeezed shut, my knees ached and my lungs were already protesting. But it wasn’t just the position, it was the scent. I was surrounded by it now. Warm fabrics. His shirts. His coats. His body, practically. It was like being held inside his ribcage.
Suffocating didn’t begin to cover it.
A drawer opened and closed.
His steps came again. Then…stopped.
A chair creaked.
He sat.
Minutes dragged. One. Two. Maybe five. I couldn’t tell. I was slipping into madness with each second. Sweat trickled down my back, my pulse thumping in my ears.
“You should be getting suffocated by now.” His voice was low and calm as usual, the last word pushed out with a sigh.
Was he on the phone?
“Come out while I’m being nice.”
My heart stopped, like it had just forgotten how to beat, just like I’d forgotten how to breathe.
He wasn’t on the phone.
He was talking to me!
Fuck. Why did I keep embarrassing myself?
If I hadn’t already been dying inside the wardrobe, I might’ve hesitated out of pure shame. But shame didn’t even have time to settle before I pushed the door open and stepped out, subtly sucking in air.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.
He was seated beside the window, but my eyes refused to meet his. They darted everywhere else, clinging to the ceiling corners like they were suddenly the most fascinating things I’d ever seen.
“Your room is...very spotless,” I said, a smile forced on my lips.
“I love control.”
I swallowed, nodding as I rubbed my palms together like that’d erase the awkward tension strangling me. “So that’s why,” I murmured, mostly to myself. Was that why he never let my room stay a mess? What a freak.
“I’m not going to ask why you were inside there,” he added, still seated. “I figured that out the moment I heard the door open.”
I nodded again, awkwardly. Of course he did. Then, taking a step forward, I said, “I’ll take my leave now—”
But he stood. And just like that, all motion in my legs shut down. I didn’t even mean to look at him, but my gaze lifted, as though drawn to him by something that wasn’t mine.
