3 AM.
A long scarred hand wrapped in white dressings moved deftly, pinning needles into the mannequin. She checks her sketch design to confirm and carefully started stitching the pinned fabric in her room.
The whole mansion was silent, and tuned with the steady rhythm of only her stitch, echoing nonstop. She checks the final part of her piece and carefully calculates before pinning it onto the mannequin. The mannequin was fashioned in soft elegant champagne gown, that just needs a sheer overlay to complete it.
The hush dissolved with the creak of the door opening out of the next room, as a man's figure stepped out. His alluring dark eyes flicked to her room, still bright in the dead of night.
A crisp white shirt offset by sleek black pants, onto his sculpted build, made him classy, and quietly commanding.
His hands slipped into his pocket, and walked down the staircase in complete darkness. Each step echoed, filling the silence of the house while she was busy adding boning to the gown.
As the moonlight hits, his pale face lits up, marked by sharp lines and the soft brown hair swept back, refined, flutters gently by a gush of wind.
He pulled up the blanket to the unknown person sleeping deeply on the sofa. At the same time, he deliberately let the plush cat slip, watching it drop intentionally.
*
The kitchen light flicks.
And a sharp knife glides neatly through the fresh avocado and stabs the pit. Across the room, Alexia was still lost in the rhythm of creation, even after working the whole night.
The green creamy flesh spreads on top of golden toast making a smooth layer, and a sunny eggs was placed perfectly on top, making it soft and appetizing. While, Alexia adjusted some parts and stepped back, tilting her head, as the gown fabric fell like starlight under her gaze.
A dash of pepper and some salt was showered on the toast. Then, his fingertip quietly reached for the steaming water, and idly swirled in circles, completely unbothered for what he was doing. At last, the lemon full of juice was squeezed out, finishing the preparation and the citrus mist rose softly into the dim air.
At that very moment, Alexia was stapling the glitter décor while he made his way upstairs in lock steps, and a zesty citrus haze fuming from the glass trails.
He stopped by her door and a soft click of the knob lock fell into the silence as his hand carrying a subtle allure veins opened them. Though her's attention still stayed on the dress. Her hands moved in swift, practiced motions fusing a seam, with precise care.
She hadn't noticed him or perhaps she simply used to it.
He stepped in as though he already belonged there and his alluring gaze gracely swept over her. He started tracing the curve of her shoulders in her androgynous outfit and her habitual focused expression. His eyes slightly got narrowed, when he noticed her bandaged hand starting to open up.
He set the plates carefully on a table, and the faint clink of porcelain sounded sharply as he sets the plate on the back table, giving an attentive announcement of his presence.
A smirk tugged at his lips, not careless, but with a flicker of amusement laced with something darker, magnetic. "You work like a woman possessed,".
He stepped in closer to her working area, with silent steps setting the warm lemon glass before her working desk. "Beautiful.... almost cruelly beautiful." he added, observing her injured fingers.
"Almost finished," she replied in, cold and sharp tone. "There's something still missing, and I couldn't find it."
Taking those words, he leaned against the fabric-strewn table, brushing a fragments of used fabric with his shoe, eyes completely absorbed over her.
"Perfection isn't the point but some things," he said, tilting his head, "are better left for later."
Her bandage started to peel off more showing her deep raw scars of pins and rough fabric. Her hands were flaring in pain, while she still continued unaware of body signal. She then, reached for the glass still spotted by his unwavering gaze.
"I have brought a straw for you," he said, voice low, controlled, sharp picking one out from his pocket.
''So you can bend over to the table to drink, since you declined my hand service just a 4 hours ago ."
"No needed," She jumped to the conclusion and started fixing the zipper of the dress.
As the gown was almost complete, he applied toothpaste to the brush and extended toward her. She didn't look at it. But to his surprise, she dragged him aside, catching him offguard, eyes wide opened by her sudden movement along with fabric stack. She opens her sketchbook and moves onto next request.
For a moment he just stared at her, frozen and then, broke the silence abruptly as he glanced at the fallen fabric stained by her blood.
"There's still 4 months to start Mr Koji's wife request", he voiced low, deliberate, carrying a weight that pressed against the quiet air between them.
"Wait!"
''Five minutes more'' she said sharply, clipped in cold tone, leaving no room for argument.
Accepting her workaholic nature, he sat on her chair in silence, toothbrush in hand, eyes following her every line of sketch, with the intimidating tension thick and unspoken between them.
**
The minutes stretched longer than she asked, but he didn't try to disturb her. Finally, she stepped back from the table and popped the two pieces of bread at once, still somehow warm he had prepared. Still holding the brush, he watched silently with his magnetic eyes. She took the brush and headed towards her bathroom, utterly unbothered by taking extra time than told.
He moved through her room with no bed, looking more like her studio, and started to pick up every swipe of the cloth fragments and straightens papers deliberately, almost reverent. As he tidied, his gaze fell on the old designed sketch fallen across the table. He raised his eyebrows and pinned to the walls, with more than 100 drawings of clients' anatomy overlaid by her intricate fashion designs. He walked back, two steps, and the weight of her skill started to radiate through the room.
Moments later, she walked out, a green peel-off mask covering her face, earlier than he thought.
He let a sly smirk curl his lips, eyes glinting. "I don't think you were in there very long… didn't you, cause trouble yesterday by ignoring it?" he muttered with deep, dark voice.
'' We are already late.'' She commands him indirectly, not responding to his question.
She sits on the makeup table, she peeled the mask off with her open, wounded hand with countless wounds and patted her face.
He stepped closer, ran his muscular hand through her hair with practiced ease, and started making her hair as she began doing her makeup. His eyes darted to the clock as hours had passed more than he thought.
In a low, deep voice, he began outlining the day's plans, each word stirring against the running time.