aspiring ancient cryptid

The air was clear and crisp, the kind that lightly prickled your lungs if you inhaled deeply enough. You remained leaning there until that air brought down a chill that nipped your skin, a sign to retreat back inside for the night. The balcony door slid shut before you locked it then set yourself down on one of the three couches that stood surrounding the polished, marble coffee table. Zeno didn’t spare any expense for his own enjoyment, even if the man was rarely here. A part of you believed it was more for show than actual comfort. 

Appearances and imagery did matter, you guessed. Which was why you wondered why Zeno kept you around. You weren’t the most luxurious person in the world yet Zeno would shower you in whatever you wanted. Zeno’s way of expressing his admiration, a reminder that he listened to you. He knew your favourite drink. Your favourite food. Your favourite smells, books, music, movies; Zeno accumulated this information like it was valuable information because it was to him. 

Flopping down on the second couch, you sunk into the comfortable furniture as you flicked on the ridiculously big TV screen and began cycling through the channels. Nothing good on, as usual. You closed your eyes, held the ‘Channel Down’ button and counted to three before letting go and opening your eyes. 

A bloody antique show. 

An annoyed groan slipped your lips before tossing the remote on the coffee table and decided to watch. An old man rambling on about a pure white, ceramic vase he had stored in the attic since he was “but a wee lad”. The door to the penthouse creaked open and your head craned up as far as your neck would allow without actually moving off the couch, not ready to give up the comfy position. Standing in front of the closed door, Zeno stood there. His leather coat hung heavily over his shoulders like a cloak, his silver hair slicked back with those dark tinted glasses sitting on his face to conceal those beautiful eyes of his. That beautiful shade of gold that rivaled the sunset. You smiled at the sight of him, 

“Over here, Zeno.” You called out, drawing his attention towards the centre of the living room. He shed his thick coat off, hanging it up beside the door before making his way over to you. You noticed that little bit of tension that set his shoulders, the way his lips seemed to press together just a little tighter than usual. Little things many would miss but not you. “Stressful day?” He shifted over to allow him room to sit. 

“You have no idea.” His voice slipped his lips like honey, a sound that you could listen to without complaint. The man sat down, his head tilting back a little as he finally let out a low sigh that radiated exhaustion. Not just physically,Zeno couldn’t stress more about his modified genetics and stamina, how someone like him didn’t get close to exhaustion. Regardless, you moved closer to him, deciding to prop yourself upright to sit. 

“Gideon is beginning to wear my patience thin. His research demands more funds while his results are yet to prove a single development.” Even if you were suddenly robbed of your eyesight, you would be able to tell that tiny vein that hid just out of his hairline pulse with irritation. The man prided himself of perfection, an unmovable monolith that commanded authority and control. You got to see the tiny chips and cracks in the stone. You saw what he wished to hide from the outside world. 

A small smile tugged your lips as you shifted on the couch. Your legs brought up and laid across Zeno’s lap, drawing his gaze to you. Your arms outstretched in a silent invitation. Zeno took in your invitation and decided to accept. Though, he gave a small huff as if he was doing you a favour rather than vice versa. Somethings, he never said aloud but he didn’t need to when he had you who could read him like a book. 

“Couches are for sitting, you know?” He muttered but didn’t waste time settling in your arms. His body resting atop of your with your legs slightly parted and his head resting on your chest. He felt your arms wrap around so your fingers could gently comb through his hair, a gesture that made something inside him feel calm. Comforted, even. In this penthouse, the outside world remained outside. He allowed his shoulders to slump a little, the tension slowly melting from them as he felt your fingers brush through his silver hair while your other hand rubbed circles between his shoulder blades, easing the muscle a little. 

The smell of you pulling him into a space he never wished to leave. The steady rhythm of your heartbeat is a soothing melody for him to drown himself into. Everything about you brought a calmness that settled to his very cells. Some days, he found himself seeking out your mere presence if he was stressed enough. Just the feeling of you in his arms made the next day that little more tolerable. 

Your fingers moved from his hair down to the black veins that marred the side of his face. A gentle warmth danced over them as he felt you trace each one as if it was something to admire, and not a reminder of one of the many failures he accounted for. He wondered what you saw of him. A relic of the past that seemed to lack small pieces of the greater whole? Or a man who was more important to you than anything in the world? 

Zeno silently prayed for it to be the latter. 

“I’ve got you, darling.” You spoke softly as you went back to combing his hair, your gaze on the TV screen again as the old man seemed to be complaining over fifty dollars for the vase. “Is there nothing else on other than this pathetic drab?” Zeno enquired and you shook your head,