Pt. 2

The next few days came and went by with more and more deliveries and more and more visits to Lynn’s place whether it be because of an order or because you just thought of showing up.

Everything should’ve been fine, she should’ve been at arm’s length but it felt like every turner you took, you saw her, on a billboard, commercials playing through TV displays or posters plastered on walls and windows of some product she advertised.

Now, you were on your way back to the tall, sleek, expensive apartment she lived in, or at least borrowed with another order. You went through the lobby, greeting the receptionist who you somehow got to on a first name basis from all the times you’ve stopped by.

The elevator hummed as its doors opened and you stepped out onto the carpeted floor. You approached her door and knocked.

But then silence.

No noise from the other side.

No shuffling behind the door.

Or her voice that was ready to mutter your name.

You knocked again and it stayed the same.

It wasn’t like her to keep you out like this, or at least that’s what you were led to believe.

You reached for the knob and it twisted open.

That was when your heart dropped further down.

She never left her door unlocked.

You stepped inside, immediately struck by the unusual stillness. The lights were off. The faint scent of takeout lingered, but otherwise, it was eerily quiet.

“Lynn?” You called softly, your voice cutting through the heavy silence.

No answer.

You set the bag down, your brow furrowing. Something didn’t feel right. The apartment was too quiet, too still. Moving toward the living room, you noticed the couch was empty. The kitchen untouched. The window blinds were drawn tight, casting jagged shadows across the floor.

A muffled noise, a thump, a curse, a sharp gasp, came from her bedroom.

Your pulse spiked. “Lynn?”

This time, it wasn’t just silence. A low creak, like furniture being nudged, followed by a soft crash.

Without thinking, you rushed toward the sound, hand reaching for the door. You opened it slowly and turned the lightswitch on.

You walked in and found nobody.

THUD!

Or at least that was what you thought.

You fell to your knees as you were hit by something on your back.

You hit the floor hard, palms skidding against the carpet as a burst of pain shot up your spine.

“What the—?!”

Another impact, lighter this time, more like a frantic scramble than an actual hit, landed between your shoulder blades. Then you heard it,

A sharp inhale.

A quiet, horrified, familiar voice.

“…oh my god.”

You rolled onto your side, wincing, and the weight on your back scrambled away so fast you heard her knees drag against the floor.

When you lifted your head, you found her pressed against the far wall, breathing like she’d just run a marathon, hair mussed, sweatshirt slipping off one shoulder, eyes blown wide with fear.

She was holding a heavy hardcover book like a weapon.

A book.

A damn book.

“Lynn?” You managed, rubbing your shoulder with a wince. “What the hell?”

She didn’t move at first, just stared at you, chest rising and falling in sharp, shaky breaths. Her knuckles were white around the book’s spine.

“I—I thought you were—” Her voice cracked, small and trembling. “Someone was in here.”

You groaned, painfully as you felt the pain linger around the muscles of your back.

Lynn dropped the book, landing on the floor with another thud. She dropped to your side, carefully touching the spot she hit mistakenly.

“I-i’m sorry—I didn't—” She muttered before you tried to stand back up. Her arm linked with yours, helping you back onto your feet.

She hovered close, closer than she ever let herself get when she was in her usual sharp-tongued, teasing self.

Her hand stayed on your arm even after you were standing, fingers trembling against the fabric of your clothes, like she wasn’t convinced you were real, or safe, or that she hadn’t just made everything worse.

You exhaled slowly. “You hit me with a book, Lynn.”

“I panicked!” she hissed back, mortified, cheeks flushed a deep, trembling red. “I thought someone actually broke in! The door was open—and I heard footsteps—and I—” Her voice tangled into itself and died off, replaced by another shaky breath.

You softened, because you’d never seen her like this.

Not angry.

Not bratty.

Not smug.