Break-In

Loess wakes up with a jerk, his dark-grey eyes wide, and he gasps. Sitting up, his eyes are fixed on the sheets covering his legs, and his heavy breaths shudder as the vivid scenes from the nightmares replay in his eyes.

He swings his legs to the other side of the bed, yawning as he puts on the thongs and walk out his bedroom, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

Light pouring from another room makes him stop in his tracks.

'The hell?'

Loess knows that he lives alone. His apartment was nothing special either, mostly because he just moved in three days ago. The many boxes all over the floor is evidence of his procrastination when it comes to unpacking.

He suddenly hears thumps, most likely made by boots, in the kitchen. Heavy and rhythmic thumps which make him shiver in anxiety.

Then he quietly begins to tiptoe toward the kitchen. On the way, he grabs the first thing he set eyes on; a plastic fork on the table.

Then internally slaps himself for his idiocy. He's about to grab a plastic knife instead when a baseball bat in poking out from one of the boxes catches his eye.

As if he'd ever played baseball in his life.

He takes it, holding it firmly, with both trembling hands, he tiptoes with more confidence than before.

At the kitchen doorway, he peers into the room, scanning the area with keen eyes before stepping in. "Who's there?" He squeaks.

Loess has always disliked his voice. It is small and whispery, and as a guy, it really strikes his ego.

He walks further into the kitchen, and discovers a broad back. Shoulder-long black hair covers the neck. The gasp escapes his lips before he stopped it.

The person froze.

Yet Loess was the one panicking and thinking; he is caught. His life, over. He is done for. He didn't even get to-

"You got any mayo?" A deep, baritone voice asked.

"Huh?" The boy said, in utter confusion. He stood up straight, out of the attacking pose he was in.

"Mayonnaise. You got some?"

"Uhm, no-"

"Ugh," the man groaned in annoyance. "Get some mayo."

'Wait a sec...' He walks up to the man by the counter. "You broke into my house to make a sandwich?!"

Loess is unprepared for what happens next. So he stumbles back. The man has turned to face him. In one swift move, 180°, his chest is inches away from the boy.

"Can't exactly just walk into a restaurant right now," the man says. He walks past the boy, brushing shoulders as he passes, and takes the bat from his hand. " You were going to hit me with this, weren't you?"

"Uh..."

"Wouldn't have worked anyways," He puts it on the island, with the half-eaten sandwich on a plate.

As he chews, Loess watches, wondering what just happened. A stranger is casually eating his food and he just stands there, gaping and doing nothing about it.

His staring is not a surprise though. The man is dangerously attractive. Even with messy hair, tired eyes and stubble on his chin, he manages to stand out. His hair is a unique glossy, pitch- black, and his eyes are a vivid dark-green. A perfectly pointed nose to compliment his sharp jawline.

"You're burning holes in me with that stare, Ivanovic." A small smirk tugs at his lips.

"I-I wasn't staring," He folds his arms in denial, looking elsewhere.

"Of course not." The man rolls his eyes.

He is in a bright orange jumpsuit and a pair of handcuffs which are broken apart by the chain, but are still on his wrists.

"How do you know my name?" Loess' eyebrows furrow. This is no longer a stranger in his house. It's now a stranger in his house who might know him more than supposed to.

Loess likes his sheltered life. It keeps him safe, and away from the dangers which kill people like him.

And a stranger knowing would be bad... wouldn't it?