Sienna showed up not long after our call, striding toward me with a confident grin that she wore like armor. The late afternoon sun caught in her hair, turning it into streaks of copper and gold, which was pleasantly distracting.
"Well," I started, attempting to sound nonchalant but failing completely, "were you really serious about that whole... living together idea?"
She raised an eyebrow, as if it were the most foolish question she'd encountered all day. "Obviously. Why shouldn't I be?"
I moved uncomfortably, rubbing the back of my neck. "I have don't know....Perhaps it's because it's... pretty significant?"
She stepped closer, grin widening. "Reynard, relax. It's just practical. My place is too big for one person, and you need somewhere better than whatever F-Rank dungeon you've been living in."
I had no objections to the idea. Actually, the more I reflected on it, the clearer it became. Moreover, it wasn't as if I had a lot of personal belongings to carry. "Okay," I replied at last, nodding. "I'll gather my belongings and we can go."
"Perfect," she chirped. "And since we finished early today, why not do it right now?"
She was already turning, motioning for me to follow. "No time like the present, Reynard."
I sighed, falling into step beside her.
The trip to my apartment was silent, except for the sporadic sounds from the streets. Upon our arrival, the stark difference between her lively spirit and the dreary, decaying complex I referred to as home was striking. The structure stood as a symbol of abandonment—weathered paint flaking like scorched skin, shattered lights flickering stubbornly against their looming demise.
The hallways were worse. A mix of mold, stale air, and something metallic—probably rust, though I didn't want to investigate—clung to the walls. From behind closed doors came the muffled sounds of arguments, sobbing, and, in one case, someone screaming obscenities at what I assumed was either a pet or themselves. The floor creaked ominously with every step.
Sienna remained silent initially, but I sensed her unease emanating from her like warmth from pavement. She ultimately ended the silence as we walked by a small tiled room that had no door, only a flickering fluorescent light above. She gestured towards it. "What is that?"
I hardly took a look at it. "Shared shower."
She fell quiet, her face changing from intrigue to a gentler emotion—perhaps compassion.
I laughed lightly, attempting to dismiss it. "It's not so terrible."
It was so. It was terrible. However, I had acclimated to it throughout the years. Numbness served as an incredible way to cope.
We arrived at my apartment, and she entered without hesitation, examining the small, cramped area. There was little to see. A slim mattress on the ground, an unstable table with one leg shorter than the rest, and a stack of papers arranged neatly in the corner. The majority of my belongings were items we had purchased together at the mall recently. Sienna remained quiet, yet her silence conveyed plenty.
We hurriedly packed, cramming all our items into several boxes. It was nearly shameful how little there was to shift. Once we finished, I took the boxes to the main floor, pausing at the security desk to sign one piece of paper verifying my exit.
No questions, no inspections—just a signature. The simplicity of the process stung more than I expected. It was like the building itself didn't care I was leaving, and neither did the people running it.
Outside, I set the boxes down on the cracked pavement. Sienna blinked, suddenly realizing something. "Oh crap—I didn't bring my car."
I raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
She waved off my judgment. "Hey, I didn't know how far it was going to be! How was I supposed to know you always used public transport? I usually walk because I live close to the site."
Before I could respond, she spun on her heel. "Hold on. I'll grab it. Wait here!"
And just like that, she was gone, sprinting down the street like she was late for a meeting.
After the first thirty minutes, I figured she'd just gotten caught up in traffic or something. No big deal.
After an hour, I started pacing.
By the second hour, I was checking my phone every few minutes, debating whether to call her.
By the third hour, I was convinced she'd either forgotten about me, gotten lost, or—worse—something had happened to her.
I was about to dial her number when her car finally screeched into view. It was a sleek, simple thing—nothing flashy, but well-maintained. Sienna jumped out before the engine even fully stopped, waving both arms.
"I'm really, really, really sorry!" she exclaimed, hurrying over. "I became disoriented when searching for the way back to my apartment. I thought I was familiar with the route, but then I made an incorrect turn, and everything went downhill from that point."
A fourth possibility occurred to me—one I hadn't considered before.
She was simply dumb...or clumsy.
I snorted, shaking my head with a chuckle. "Don't worry about it."
We loaded the boxes into her car, and soon we were driving toward her apartment complex. The difference was night and day. Her building stood tall and pristine, the exterior clean and modern with large windows reflecting the setting sun. The landscaping was immaculate, with green spaces and actual trees—trees that weren't half-dead.
She pulled into an underground garage, parking in a spot marked with her name. We got out, and as we carried the boxes toward the elevator, we chatted casually, her earlier embarrassment fading into light banter.
When we reached the stairs leading to her floor, she paused, glancing back at me. "Oh, by the way, be careful on these steps. They're way more slippery than the ones in your old building—"
She didn't even get to finish the sentence.
My foot hit the first step wrong, and gravity did the rest. I slipped, my balance gone in an instant. The world tilted, and I went down hard, tumbling like an uncoordinated ragdoll. There was a brief flash of panic, then nothing but the sharp crack of my head hitting the floor.
Darkness swallowed me whole.