The door clicks shut behind us, and my eyes dart around the tiny apartment.
One room. Big bed. Tiny couch. A single chair shoved into a corner.
Kitchenette crammed into the same space.
I blink, trying not to grimace. No way… I'm sleeping on the floor? Me? Ace the Great? Never.
He moves quietly, pulling a small first-aid kit from a shelf. "Sit," he orders.
I flop onto the edge of the bed, wincing as I stretch out my leg. "Ow… it still hurts, you know. Seriously, don't you have a bigger clinic or something? Maybe a penthouse with a medical wing?"
He crouches down beside me, unwrapping bandages.
His hands work with quiet precision—firm but careful—while I mutter complaints under my breath.
"This is ridiculous," I say, flinching as he presses lightly on my ankle. "I swear… one night in this… this tiny dungeon… and you think I'm supposed to just—*ugh!*"
He ignores me, focused on my leg, wrapping it securely. His touch is surprisingly gentle. Something in my chest tightens.
"Done," he says simply.
I stare at the plain blankets he tosses at me. "So… this is it? Floor, one blanket, and a free pass for tonight?"
His gaze doesn't waver. "It's enough."
I narrow my eyes. "Come on, name your price. I can pay. Just… make it worth my while." I gesture at the bed. "That's a perfectly good bed going to waste."
He doesn't budge. Silence stretches between us.
I huff, sliding off the bed and flopping onto the floor with the blanket wrapped around my shoulders like a cape of martyrdom. "Unbelievable… me, sleeping on the floor. Never thought I'd see the day. My friends would *die* if they could see this."
I curl into the blanket, muttering, "Could be worse, I guess… could be worse…"
Then, quietly, I poke the silence. "Hey… Angel… can I ask something?"
He doesn't look up. "What?"
"What's your name?" I press, curious, insistent. "I mean, I kissed you. That feels like it requires at least a name exchange, right?"
"I don't give names," he says, clipped. "We won't see each other after tomorrow. No introduction needed."
I tilt my head, grin spreading. "Fine. But I'm still calling you Angel. And you will answer to that."
He makes a sound of mild annoyance but doesn't argue.
Victory.
I puff out my chest proudly. "Then I'll tell you my name!" I announce like I'm revealing a state secret. "Ace! Ace the Great. The best of the best. Remember that. Top of the line. Legend in the making. You got it?"
His dark eyes flick down once—unimpressed. "Noted," he mutters.
"Noted?" I tilt my head, feigning offense. "You don't even sound impressed! Ace—the best of the best...and you just… 'noted'? Angel, you're killing me here."
He doesn't comment further, returning to his quiet observation.
I hug my blanket tighter, muttering to myself. "Ace… sleeping on the floor… Angel beside me… never in my life…"
A pause. Then a small smirk escapes me despite everything.
Somehow, even like this—bruised, tired, cramped—this night is already… unforgettable.
I sprawl on the floor, blanket pulled tight around my shoulders, peeking sideways at him, who's now leaning against the wall with arms crossed. My leg throbs, but honestly… I don't care.
"So…" I begin, voice casual but mischievous, "you just gonna stand there all night, Angel? Or are you gonna… I don't know… watch me like some heroic statue? Because if so, I should warn you—I'm a restless sleeper. Very dramatic. Lots of movement."
His dark eyes flick down at me. "You'll stay on the floor. That's enough."
I sit up slightly, propping myself on one elbow, hair falling over my forehead. "Floor? Really? You call this enough? I mean… I could be comfy. Like… you know… *bed*-comfy." I grin, teasing, letting the blanket slide off one shoulder just a little.
His gaze hardens for the tiniest moment, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. Ohhh, he noticed. Good.
"I don't do 'comfy,'" he says, voice low, clipped—but not harsh. "You're staying there."
I pout dramatically, collapsing back onto the floor. "Fine, fine. Floor it is. Ace… humble Ace… deserves better, but floor it is…" I roll onto my side. "Guess I'll survive… maybe…"
Seconds pass. My eyes drift, and I catch myself staring. At him. Angel. Right there. My heartbeat quickens.
"So… Angel… do you… ever sleep?"
He doesn't answer immediately. Just watches me curl into the blanket, one brow slightly raised, eyes glittering in the dim light.
My grin returns. "No talking? Fine. I'll just… chat to myself. That's fine too. Angel-approved self-dialogue."
His lips twitch—almost, almost a smile.
My heart skips. Yes… I got him. He cares. Or maybe he's just amused. Whatever. I'll take it.
"You know…" I roll onto my back, blanket half slipping off, "I could… maybe… squeeze a little space on that bed… just enough for, say, one leg… or one elbow… Angel, I'm not asking for much…"
He finally leans forward slightly, dark eyes catching mine in the dim lamplight. "Floor. End of discussion."
I sigh, exaggerated, then whisper just loud enough for him to hear. "Fine… but just so you know… Angel… you make the floor feel… somehow… less like punishment and more… interesting."
His gaze softens imperceptibly.
A thrill runs through me. Ohhh… did I just flirt and it actually landed?
I tuck myself under the blanket, whispering to myself, "Ace… humble Ace… stuck on the floor… with Angel… hmm… I could get used to this. I could get very used to this."
I glance again at him, who's now settling into the corner with his back against the wall, shadows cutting his features in sharp relief.
My lips curve into a smirk.
Tonight is already… unforgettable. And I didn't even have to share a bed… yet.
Eventually, exhaustion wins.
My eyes drift shut, body curling under the blanket on the floor. My breaths slow, deepen. Tiny murmurs slip from my lips as I dream—or maybe plot. Who knows with me.
From his corner, he watches silently.
His dark eyes soften ever so slightly. Relief eases through him—the adrenaline of the chase, the tension, the near-chaos of the night—it's over. For now.
He shifts just a little, careful not to disturb the small, bratty bundle of energy sprawled below him.
For a moment, he allows himself to simply watch: the rise and fall of Ethan's chest, the faint curl of his fingers clutching the blanket, the way his bleached-copper hair catches the moonlight streaming through the window.
That kiss…
The memory flashes sharply—the sudden, impulsive press of lips, the heat, the chaos. Brief, reckless, utterly impossible to forget.
Gabriel's jaw clenched slightly.
He's safe, he reminds himself quietly. At least for tonight.
The apartment is still, save for the distant hum of the city outside.
Moonlight brushes against the walls, painting soft shadows across the small room.
And somewhere between the quiet and the lingering pulse of the night, a tiny, unspoken connection remains—delicate, electric, wholly theirs.
Gabriel exhales slowly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
He leans his head back against the wall, eyes drifting closed.
But not before one last glance at the boy on his floor—the bratty, beautiful disaster who stumbled into his life with a kiss and a lie and a broken ankle.
Just for tonight, he'd said.
But already, he suspects that's a promise neither of them will keep.