Classified || 2 || ✔️ mature

20 | Lilac

"I can feel your glare, Angel." John says as I stare at the side of his face, my arms folded in front of me, leaning against the door frame.

"Good." I mutter, pushing off the door and entering inside the stripped and redone warehouse.

My gaze goes from one end of the warehouse to the next, taking in every speck of detail I can.

"You live here?"

"Momentarily." John says, staring over his shoulder at me.

I run my eyes down his figure before turning from him, walking for the staircase over the makeshift kitchen, walking up the wooden steps to the studio above it, my eyes going from one bed to the next.

"You don't live alone." I state.

"I don't." I hear him right behind me and I turn, staring at him as he stalks up the steps, the wood groaning under his weight and he passes by me, his shoulder brushing mine.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you need," He lifts a hand to encompass a mattress, "You can have my bed, I'm sure Romeo won't mind me using his."

"Or I could just sleep in Romeo's if he's not here."

"No." John says, not elaborating on his answer.

I laugh, shaking my head before staring back at the stairs I just walked up, tracing the way down to the doorway.

I debate going to Andy's when I remember that she is out of town, which means her house is off limits with the amount of booby traps she would've set up to keep her equipment safe.

I sigh before turning and staring at John where he stands, his eyes watching me, waiting for me to decide.

My eyes go to the second bed.

"Romeo won't mind." John says, seeing where my gaze went.

"Only for a few days." I answer, walking towards his bed and taking a seat on the mattress, staring up at him under my lashes. "And then I'm leaving."

"If you say so, Angel."

"I do."

He chuckles, shaking his head before he looks down at his shirt, at the blood staining it.

He lifts his arms, muscles training and contracting as he takes hold of the shirt at the back of his neck, pulling it over his head.

I swallow, looking away from the sight of his muscles on display.

"Do I make you nervous, Angel?"

I look back at him, standing from the bed. "I just don't like being the cause of someone being injured."

John blinks back at me, "Didn't you kill someone tonight."

"That's different, they deserved it."

"And I don't?" He asks, stepping closer to me. He lifts a hand, dragging it along my collarbone, "Do I not deserve your ire?"

I swallow the lump in my throat, "You haven't done anything to warrant it yet."

John smiles, his dimple popping. "Give it time." 

I look away from his mesmerising gaze, pointing to the bed. "Sit down."

"Are you going to stitch me up again?" He murmurs lowly but takes a  seat, he looks up at me, leaning back on his hands, shirt balled up beside him.

He lifts a taunting brow when I don't answer, his smile stretching.

I get down on my knees in front of him so I can see the wound clearly, reaching up with probing fingers.