location: outside her door
Heād made it out of Boltās in five seconds flat as soon as he realised what was about to happen, and after he nearly dropped a wrench on his own foot, eliciting a series of increasingly florid swear words from Cass to the point where even the other mechanics had suggested he calm down. Calm was not really his mood, though, not when he was acutely aware that heād hit his limit for flaking on work and he was absolutely going to have a delightful conversation with Ryden at some point where Cass grovelled, gave vague answers that didnāt mean anything, and begged to not be fired. Again. A situation which would probably be avoided if Cass only let himself admit that he was stressed, struggling, in pain, whatever vulnerability you cared to list but which he absolutely would not discuss with anyone. In this case all three, and he most definitely did not wish to have that chat in a loud workshop with Roman right round the corner to make fun of him. So instead, he chose the run away now and deal with it later option.
Normally, heād never choose to use the lift, walking the full five flights of stairs since the day heād been trapped with Isabelle, half to avoid being trapped again and half because he knew she took the elevator and he aggressively wanted to avoid seeing her. Heād barely even messaged back since that day, cancelled dinner plans, answered her questions about the town with short, stilted answers. He didnāt like being this way, not when theyād been so familiar once upon a time, but when he thought of her and thought of being trapped in such a small space with her immediately his mind went to her lips just ghosting over his and he was unable to focus on anything else. Just imagining the way she had pressed her forehead to his had had him nearly running a red light on his drive to work. No, it was clear he had a soft spot for her, and it was for the best if he didnāt see her until he managed to harden it up, for his own sanity.
The elevator didnāt feel like it was going fast enough, though, and Cass quietly cursed the contraption even as the doors finally opened what felt like a year later. He didnāt want to be in the bright corridor, needed to be home and away from everyone, able to hide until he was back to his loud and hot tempered self, a front that gave him more safety than anything else in life and yet also resigned him to hiding all parts of him which didnāt fit it. When he finally reached the two doors, side by side, his and Isabelleās, he felt his vision start to blur and meld the two numbers, 505, 504, he was short sighted enough to begin with and he cursed that even more and the growing pain in his head for not just waiting, not allowing him to be away before it hit. His hand went to shove his key into the lock and yank on the handle, and it jammed, not opening. Cass swore quietly - this was a common occurrence with his bullshit cheap door in his cheap ass apartment - and pulled on the handle more violently, urgently as he felt acidic bile coat the inside of his throat and threaten to make an appearance imminently.
The door opened finally, just a second later than heād needed, and before he could take even a step inside the nausea won out over his desire to preserve his hallwayās carpet and he was retching, a pathetic dribble of bile - heād only had coffee and a vape that day and he silently thanked himself for that small mercy - spilling out onto the carpet, a rug by the door, a footā¦. A foot? And a rug? He was confused, for a second, before his stomach dropped and he looked up. He hadnāt gotten the door open, after all. It had been opened, opened by a well manicured hand belonging to a familiar arm belonging to a certain blonde upon whoās perfectly painted toenails, he realised in horror, he had managed to throw up on. Fuck. āOh God,ā Cass said, slightly dazed, and took a staggering step back, with absolutely nothing he could think of to rectify the situation. āIām. So sorry.ā
