IV ‖ same mistakes

SHANGHAI
December 
Location: Iva's Apartment

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I spun around, scrambling as I picked up all the clothes and gears that I had mindlessly tossed on the floor when I returned home just now. Hugging all my things, I sped towards the laundry room and dumped everything in the rack. At that moment, the doorbell rang and I jumped. Cussing under my breath, my hand quickly grabbed a towel and covered the rack before dashing through the living area and unlocked the door for my late-night visitor.

"Why are you panting, sweetness?" Jax gave a light chuckle that halted my feet to a complete stop just to stare at those glimmering eyes and the faint smile carved upon his perfectly chiselled features. This guy will be the death of me. I swore quietly in my heart.

" W-Why are you h-here?" I stammered, my tongue rolled in an embarrassing way that made me tripped over my own words.

"To talk," he said, entering through the door and removed his shoes. I turned around and scurried into the house, trying to scan through my floors in case I missed picking up anything. From behind, Jax called out to me in a slightly raised voice.

Startled, I looked towards him and he was staring at me intently while his finger pointed to his feet. Oh, right. I went towards the shoe cabinet and grabbed a pair of indoor slippers for him.

"Did I come at the wrong time?" he asked, suddenly wary. His brows raised as he studied me and I gulped. I wasn't even sure why I had agreed to let him up to my apartment because I could've simply told Melvin to request for him to visit another day.

"N-No, I was just resting," I laughed, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. "Just make yourself at home. I'll be right back."

"Alright," he smiled as he moved into the kitchen and pulled on the fridge door. His hand grabbed onto a bottle of water and twisted the cap open. Bringing the brim of the bottle close to his lips, he took in two mouthfuls of water. My feet stopped at where I was and admired every smooth move of his throat along the length of his neck. But before he could catch me staring, I whacked myself at the top of my head and went into my room. I grabbed onto a random bra from my wardrobe and clasped it on. Yes, for the love of the Gods, who wears these torture devices at home? 

When I left my room, Jax was already sitting by the window seat waiting for me. "Tea?" he stretched his arm towards me and I took the bottle him while mouthing thanks. Unsurprisingly, the bottle had already been unscrewed and the corners of my lips lifted into a faint smile.

"So, Iva—" he dragged on my name, his voice resonant and smooth. I lifted my gaze to meet with those hazy blue orbs, anticipating for him to finish his sentence. Then, his hand lifted and his finger hooked onto something that made me one step closer to the answer of why I would like to die. "What were you doing?"

My face heated up in an instant as I shot forward to grab onto the black thong off his hand. Mentally cursing at the fact that this was the reason why I couldn't find my undies just now, I scowled, "I don't kiss and tell."

"Alright," he laughed. "I won't ask what you don't want to tell."

"Perfect," I nodded in approval as I bunched on the material of the thong and stuffed it right under where I sat. He looked at me with raised brows but I brushed the weirdness aside and diverted the conversation, "You said you're here to talk."

"I did." He waited for me to find a comfortable position on the inside of the window seat before he lifted his long legs and stretched them out beside me. Just like the previous time, he sat close but not touching at all. "I missed talking to you."

"Really?" I laughed, a sudden feeling of happiness bubbled right in my chest.

"Yeah," he smiled again with only one side of his lips lifted. That soft grin really made all his features shine in a way that I couldn't explain. His gaze stayed lock at me and he mentioned, "You look great even in your casual wear."

I almost stopped breathing when his compliment sounded in my ear. My mind couldn't fathom out what was it about this guy that always threw me off balance and set my heart into overdrive. I probably should say something in return, but my tongue had already given up on me, rendering me speechless. 

"How was your day, Iva?" At the mention of his first question, I knew I lost the chance to thank his compliment. So, I decided to stop being an idiot and steadied myself mentally.

"It was good, I had a job done," I grinned. "How's yours?"

"Not as good as yours." He shifted a little and crossed his legs at the ankles. He leaned his back fully against the seat and crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking all relaxed and calm. "I was faced with a difficult task."

"What do you do for a living?" I asked out of curiosity.

He observed me for a moment before lowering his gaze and those thick, long lashes shielded his eyes. He replied, "I work as a computer scientist."

"Cool!" I responded with excitement, grabbing the cushion from my side and hugged it tightly as I leaned forward towards him. "Do you develop software or manage information?"

"Neither. I'm an information security expert."

"Hacker, you mean." I rolled my eyes, slumping back into the backrest. A burst of laughter sounded from him and I noticed how the skin by his eyes crinkled as an expression of his amusement.

"You sure know a lot."

"Not really" I shrugged, mending out a lie to provide cover for my knowledge. "Watched too many spy movies, I guess?" 

"Interesting," he said, fixing his attention on me. "What about you?"

"M-Me?" I wasn't prepared to answer his question, knowing that it would be ridiculous to tell him that I'm an assassin that hunts evil spirits. "Um, you see, I—"

"An artist, maybe?" He pointed toward my living room. "I saw an easel, though without any paintings."

I followed the direction where he wanted my attention to be and looked at the easel which I had placed at the corner of my living room. It never came across my mind that I could be mistaken for being an artist. Painting was simply a hobby that I had picked up because I get unusually bored on days without kill requests or training in Elysium. 

"Yeah, you can say that," I replied, turning around to face him once again. Those beautiful pair of eyes glinted in anticipation, sending a clear indication of the genuine interest he had in that aspect of my 'work' which made me inescapably nervous.

"Can I have a look at your pieces?" he requested.

"They're not that good." I gave an awkward expression.

"I'm sure they are, sweetness," he smiled. "Come on, you had me curious."

"Alright," I sighed, simply unable to resist that tempting look on his face. I tucked the throw aside and climbed over his legs. Walking towards the storage cabinet near the easel, I pulled out a few canvas pieces. I loved painting portraits and my subjects tended to be the people of my memories. At times, I wondered if it was me being overly attached to everything that was never meant to be mine. Yet, I hadn't really known of any other ways to express all those fragile emotions that threatened to break me from within.

Whenever I paint, it felt like a relief for myself. It was as though all the thoughts, regardless good or bad, would stay in those strokes of colour on canvas. All the emotions would leave me and imprint themselves in the works that I had done, emptying me from all the cruelties of humanly feelings.

"You're definitely way too humble," he breathed, carefully studying the few canvases he held in his hands. "Do you know these people?"

"Yes, I know them," I admitted, my fingers combing through the many canvases that I had stashed away.

"Can I see the rest?" he asked politely and I simply nodded. There was no point in hiding because it wouldn't matter about what he saw since everyone in this cabinet were dead. I stood by his side, watching him flip each portrait over in a careful manner as though they were meant to be treasured. But they don't matter to me. At least, that's the lie I often convinced myself with.

"Is this you?" Jax removed a canvas from the stack and showed it towards me. It was a painting of a little girl who smiled way too happily as she held onto a teddy bear. I watched her hazel eyes stared right into mine, reflecting the same colour but different liveliness. Hers was full of warmth and genuine love for the world, while mine was empty and almost odiously dull. All the words got stuck in my throat and I finally realised that it may be a very incautious thing to show him all these portraits. Currently, I stood by his side while mentally questioning myself about my stupidity as feelings of vulnerability darted right through my chest. I couldn't believe that I had just given someone else a vantage point to shoot me at point-blank if he wanted to.

I wished to have learned to use my head, instead of always thinking with my chest. I also wished I knew that I was a fool to my emotions and they were the things that invariably killed me over and again. 

But, you know, sometimes people just don't learn. 

Inhaling a deep breath and mustered enough courage to speak again, I admitted, "Yes, that's me." 

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old habits die hard.