YELENA'S P.O.V
The hallway smells faintly of disinfectant and winter air. German winters feel colder than Russian ones.
I tighten my coat and clutch the grocery bag to my chest.
Bread. Tea. Cheap soup packets. Enough to survive.
Survive. That's all I do anyway.
I walk toward the door of the apartment I still can't believe I was assigned to. The student housing office insisted there were no other beds, no other options, just stay here temporarily.
I don't fit here, marble floors, chrome elevators, the wealth humming in the air, it's just not..."me".
I'm unlocking the door when a voice breaks the silence behind me.
Low. Male. Too close.
"Always this late, hmm?"
I turn sharply.
The man from the third floor. I've caught him staring before. His smile now isn't friendly. It curls... wrong.
I force small politeness. "Evening."
"You're new," he says, stepping closer. One step. Then another.
I step back until my spine touches the door.
"Yes. Tempor-"
He cuts me off. "Where are you from? You sound… exotic."
Every warning bell in my bones screams.
I'm trapped between the door and him. I hate that my voice shrinks.
"Please move. I need to get inside."
His eyes gleam. "Maybe you and I can-"
A sound interrupts him.
Keys. Footsteps. A presence behind him like a sudden storm.
A tall man in a black coat appears at the end of the corridor, rolling a suitcase. Sharp jawline. Travel-tired eyes. Pilot uniform visible under the coat.
Authority radiates off him, cold and quiet.
The third-floor man stiffens, glancing back.
I exhale shakily.
LEON'S P.O.V
Long flight. Jet lag. Feet heavy.
Want nothing but shower, silence, bed.
Then I see it.
Some creep leaning over a girl pressed against my apartment door.
Instant adrenaline.
I stop walking. One eyebrow lifts, voice flat and low.
"Is there a problem here?"
Creep spins around. "We're just talking. None of your business."
I stare at him. No emotion. No blinking.
"Step away from her."
He scoffs. "Who are you? Her boyfriend?"
I didn't answer. Just stepped closer. One controlled step. Another.
His confidence dissolves quick.
"She said she wants to go inside," I add.
Silence hangs.
Finally he mutters, "Whatever," and backs off fast.
He disappears down the stairs.
I exhale slowly.
Not because of fear.
Anger. Familiar, quiet, simmering anger.
Now I look at her.
She's frozen, hands shaking, trying to hide it.
Young. Too young. Definitely not someone who belongs unsafely alone in a hallway at this hour.
Blue eyes like glass hiding stormwater.
She whispers, "Thank you."
I nod once. A snappy, non-comforting reply slips out.
"Don't open the door for men you don't know."
She flinches at the tone. Eyes harden. Good. She has some spine.
"I wasn't planning to invite him in for tea," she mutters.
I blink. Did she just-?
Before I respond, she escapes inside and closes the door.
Door.
My door.
Wait.
My key doesn't fit.
My key... doesn't... fit.
I stare at the lock, then the apartment number.
This is my apartment. Why was she unlocking it?
Heart sinks.
"No."
I knock. Hard.
3RD PERSON'S P.O V
Door opens a crack.
Her face appears, guarded.
"Yes?"
Leon speaks with the calm tone people use right before losing patience.
"Why are you inside my apartment?"
She blinks. "Your apartment?"
"Yes. Move." He reaches for the handle.
She blocks it with surprising boldness. "Stop."
His brows rise. Her accent sharpens, Russian edges slicing the air.
"There has been mistake. Student housing put me here. Only for few days."
"No."
"Yes."
"This unit is privately owned," he says sharply. "By me."
"I did not choose it," she fires back. "They assigned. No other space."
"I don't care."
"Well, I do not care that you do not care."
They stare like two swords clashing in silence.
Grocery bag rustles in her grip. A tea box falls out, sliding near his shoe.
A ridiculous, tense beat.
Leon pinches the bridge of his nose.
He's exhausted. Frozen. Not emotionally available for… any of this.
"You can't stay here," he says firmly. "I live here."
"I am aware. You just told me that." Dry tone.
His jaw tightens.
He should throw her out.
He should drag the housing office into this mess tomorrow.
He should be angry.
But her hands are trembling. Just barely.
The grocery bag is cheap.
Her coat is thin.
And that creep? Still somewhere around the building.
Annoying conscience stirs.
He hates his conscience.
"Look," he sighs, voice rough, reluctant, "there are rules. This isn't safe. You-"
"Safe?" she cuts, eyes burning. "Safer than hallway."
Truth hits him like a slap.
He closes his eyes. Regrets opening them again for the week.
"…You can stay tonight," he says quietly. "One night."
She opens her mouth. Probably to argue again.
He raises a finger. "Tomorrow morning, we fix the housing mistake. You're leaving. Understood?"
She glares, chin up. "Understood."
He wheels his suitcase inside. She moves aside like a bristling cat.
"And one more thing," he mutters.
She folds her arms. "What."
"You don't touch anything."
Her breath hitches, offended pride, sharp and visible.
She gives a stiff nod.
"I will stay invisible."
Her voice cracks slightly on invisible.
Something in his chest shifts, an old ache, unwelcome and familiar.
He ignores it.
He turns away, drops keys on the counter, rubs his temples.
Behind him, she quietly sets her groceries down.
Silent. Small. But not weak. Never weak.
There's tension, unspoken arguments, unprocessed fear in the air.
The kettle clicks on.
He looks back at her.
She avoids his eyes, voice low. "Tea before sleep?"
He nearly laughs. Exhausted disbelief.
"You're offering me tea after telling me you don't care that I don't care?"
She whispers, eyes forward, "Sometimes people speak without meaning it."
His breath catches.
He doesn't know why.
He doesn't reply.
She steps toward her tiny borrowed bedroom space.
She pauses, voice soft but unshaking "Thank you for earlier… even if you pretend you regret it."
He closes his eyes briefly.
He hates being read this easily.
Door shuts softly behind her.
Silence.
Leon exhales into the empty living room.
Lord, what mess did I just walk into?
He doesn't realize he whispered it.