The Stalker

It had been more than a week since he had last been to his apartment. The entire way from Ramiel's place to his, Eros constantly checked his shuttle's rear mirror. 

Nothing. 

Taking the three flights of stairs to his destination, the angel kept his attention everywhere. 

Nothing. 

Finally, at his apartment, he took out his Executioner's blade and kept it ready in his hand while entering. 

Everything looked the same as he had left it. It was surprisingly well-kept and neat. Eros preferred having an impeccable place to stay in case he brought home a lover. 

Yet because he was so pedantic, he had noticed subtle differences. A stack of books slightly shifted. The shirts in his drawer had slight dents instead of lying flat on top of each other. Some spices in the cupboard had been rearranged by someone. 

As soon as Eros noticed something was off for the first time, he turned his apartment upside down.