Chapter II – Detour
“...mitri.”
Came the soft whisper; a silver bell’s chime.
“Dmitri.”
He groaned and sighed heavily, pulling the blankets over his head, clinging to his sleep.
“Dmitri! Damn it! Wake up!”
Warm hands ran over his torso like a kitten kneading its mother for milk, stroking at his ticklish stomach. He groaned again in exasperation, and propped himself up by the elbows quickly before the teasing got worse.
“What?”
It actually came off more like a statement than a question.
The girl looked taken aback, bronze eyes bewildered. Her hands remained pressed to his chest. She was straddling him somehow, even in his upright position. “You’ll be late for school.”
He turned to the bedside cabinet in panic, gaping at the digital clock. “Oh, shi – hurry up and get the hell off me!”
The burden sitting on his stomach neither shifted nor alighted.
“I said get off, stupid! I thought you said I’d be late if I didn’t get the heck out of bed?”
“No, I'm waking you up because if you don’t get up any sooner,” she purred, pushing him back down, tucking in one long, sable lock of hair behind her ear, “We won’t be able to finish on time.”
A deep scarlet crept up his cheeks. “Get off. Now,” he half-growled, teeth clenched, smirking as he rolled her beneath him. He pinned her wrists above her head and gave her a soft kiss. He got up, going for the shower. “Don’t try and follow me in here; I swear I’ll kill you.”
She laughed silently and threw a pillow at him. “Hurry up, or you’re not getting any for a week.”
The remark caused a certain russet head to turn, disbelief marred in the eyes of its possessor.
“All right, then. Let’s see who’s not gonna be able to resist.” He mused, his mockery made quite plain in his taunting baritone.
“...Yeah, right." Silence. "I’m gonna go grab some breakfast. Want me to get anything for you?”
“I would love some breakfast, too.”
“Okay,” she chuckled. “I’m taking the bike.”
“Stay away from traffic.”
“I’ll be sure not to.” With one last smile, she slammed the door outside the apartment and pedaled straight ahead to the ministop, as always – but today, it seemed like she would have to take a detour.
Today, the streets were jampacked with crowds.
“This poor kid really busted it big time,” she overheard one of the police officers say amidst the noise and the chatter, “Been living in this rickety, ramshackle old building like a little hobo, this one. Been living in it for a long time, some says." The man took a bite into his bagel, wiping the crumbs off his mouth with pale, thick fingers. “It’s a crying shame, though. He’d been quite lucky to strike fortune at short expense and he still thinks he’s better off dead.” The officer guffawed, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Heh,” His companion scoffed. “That boy must’ve been really, really depressed, being alone like that for so long. Anybody would’ve chosen suicide over that kind of sick conspiracy,”
“I wonder what had gotten him into it in the first place.”
Overcome by curiosity, she decided to take a closer look.
Later that day, she would realize that it was the worst decision she had ever decided to make.
Curiosity killed the cat, after all.
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