"So that about covers things, then." Prof drew a large red X on the calendar by his desk—the day of the Evaluation Competition, three weeks from now. "Your time in class will be devoted to honing your skills and devising new dish ideas." He turned back to look at us, and we both listened attentively. No need to risk another Prof-plosion, after all.

"After classes, your time will be divided between each of your respective residences," Prof continued. "Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays will be spent at Hanna's apartment, and the remainder of the week will be at Rian's. Sundays are optional, but highly recommended. I'm going to be busy preparing for my attendance at the Evaluators' Ball, so you two will have to rely on yourselves and manage your time effectively." He peered at us over the top of his glasses. "Is that understood?"

"Yep," I replied. Rian only nodded silently, but that seemed to be enough for Prof. "Excellent," he said, smiling. "You're dismissed."

Deceptively straightforward, wasn't it? What was a seemingly simple command at the time would later result in disaster. 

For me, that is. Don't worry, Prof would be fine.

We shuffled out of the classroom in silence, neither of us totally recovered from Prof's rain of fury. I stuck my hands deep in my coat pockets, feeling inexplicably cold. Maybe all those glares from Rian really had given me frostbite.

The culinary wing was empty, probably because classes had long since ended. A passing window revealed that the sun had already set, and I tugged my coat around me a bit tighter. I wasn't really a fan of long walks in the dark. Or the dark in general. 

With maybe one exception. 

Wait, no. What was I talking about? No exceptions. None whatsoever.

The quiet in the hallway was a little eerie, but we were both equally unwilling to strike up any awkward attempts at conversation. I was still mad, but the emotional upheaval of the day left me too drained to act on my anger. I'll start in on him some other time, I resolved. Tomorrow's another day after all. No breaks—OW.

I winced. My nefarious musings had been interrupted by a sharp twinge in my chest.

And then another. And another. 

Barely holding back a hiss of pain, I discreetly pressed my hand against the right side of my ribcage. I could feel a distinct burning sensation ruthlessly bloom across my body. 

Now?  I wanted to yell at whatever part of me triggered these things. Of all times, now? With Rian literally two feet away?

Another stabbing pang ripped through my torso. This time, I couldn't keep myself from sharply sucking in a breath. I furtively snuck a glance at Rian, hoping against hope that he hadn't noticed. 

Of course, since the universe seemed to be sporting a particularly nasty grudge against me, that wasn't the case. I looked up only to meet a familiar pair of obsidian orbs staring down at me.

"What is it?" Rian asked, his brow furrowing.

I stifled another gasp of pain and clutched my side harder. "It's nothing," I said shakily.

Rian frowned at me in annoyance. "Are we really going to go through this again? Twice in one day seems a bit much, even for you."

A weak laugh escaped my lips. "That's what she said."

Rian stopped walking and grabbed my arm. He pulled me around to face him, his usual glare tinged with something different. "This isn't the time for crude jokes. Answer my question: what—is—it?"

The area he'd grabbed started to burn. I barely refrained from ripping my arm away, but the pain was dizzying. "I'm . . . I'm really fine." I forced the words out, trying to ignore the blistering inferno spreading from where his hand touched my arm. "Please let me go."

Rian looked down, seeming to just notice that he was still gripping me tightly. Like he'd been burned—and I didn't miss the irony in that—he snatched his hand away.

Almost immediately, the fire in my arm began to fade. I took in a breath, suddenly aware of the pain in my chest receding. A few moments later and I was totally fine, like nothing had happened.

"I'm . . . really fine," I murmured in awe, genuinely this time. I briefly considered whether this was some kind of calm-before-the-storm type situation, but one second passed, then two, then three, and still nothing. A slow smile started to spread across my face. 

Then I stopped short. My happy surprise rapidly turned to dread as a horrible possibility emerged in my mind.

"Let's go then, if you're really okay," Rian muttered irritatedly above me. I barely heard him, too preoccupied with the awful realization washing over me.

I'd initially thought it was just my own guilt, and my nightmares, and the stress that was causing that unimaginable agony. But what if it wasn't? 

For the first time, I considered the prospect, with no small degree of terror. What if the trigger to my episodes was actually . . . Rian?

No, I thought dazedly. No, it couldn't be. 

"Are you coming or not?" Rian called, already far ahead of me. Upon hearing his voice, I forcibly shook myself out of my stupor. "Yeah, sorry!" I breathed shakily, jogging to catch up to him.

I could feel his stare on me, but I ignored it—an action that was becoming uncomfortably familiar. But unlike last time, I wasn't avoiding his gaze because of my own guilt and remorse.

I was scared. Scared to find out if my growing suspicion was right. 

I mean, it made sense—my first episode in three years happened the day I dropped by to see him, after all. I felt weird pangs whenever I looked in his direction, and now even just his touch set them off? What kind of BS was that? 

This is ridiculous, I thought angrily. How the hell am I supposed to wring the truth out of him if we can't even be in the same room?

I didn't want to—no, I refused to let a few random pains dictate my behaviour. I'd had enough of that with the stupid nightmare, and now that I suspected he remembered, I was determined to find out the truth. And that meant not letting things like this get in the way.

"Try not to think too hard," Rian's voice once again jerked me out of my thoughts. "You don't want to break anything."

And there it was. The return of the asshole.

My lips tugged into a scowl. By this time, we'd already exited the building and were on our way to the bus stop, the chilly air easily cutting through my thin coat. "I'll do what I please, thanks. Save your concern for someone who cares."

"'Concern' is not exactly the word I'd use," Rian said, his tone returned to its regular frigidity. "More like a desire not to be held responsible when you inevitably injure yourself."

"Again, thanks for the input, but really not necessary," I replied, irked. I was too tired to deal with him right then, but I promised myself to give him hell during the days coming. 

"To that end," Rian said abruptly, and I looked up to see him glaring at the bus stop stoically, "I'll have to accompany you home."

My eyes bulged. "What?"

"Don't get the wrong idea," he said coldly, glancing down to meet my inquiring gaze. "I'm only doing this because I can't have you collapsing in a gutter somewhere. You need to stick around at least until the Evaluation. After that I don't care what you do."

I raised an eyebrow. "Wow. You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet."

He didn't reply, and we both slowed down as we arrived at the stop. "Despite that heartwarming proposition," I continued drily, "I think I'm gonna have to decline."

Rian crossed his arms. "And why is that?"

A smirk stole across my lips. "I only go home with guys I like."

I was satisfied to see his eyes widen in shock. I watched with a smirk as he struggled to respond, his gaze darkening ominously. 

Point: Hanna. Again.

Unfortunately, it didn't last very long. Coughing slightly, he recovered his wits. "That notwithstanding, my point is still relevant. You haven't been the most . . . stable lately."

I scowled—annoying though it was, he wasn't wrong. I had been on a pretty weird emotional rollercoaster over the past few days.

"Your hand is still healing," Rian continued. "I wouldn't put it past you to end up reopening the wound somehow."

My scowl deepened, but I didn't dignify that with a reply. Irritation aside, I thought grudgingly, an escort maybe wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. 

It was pretty dark outside, and I wasn't thrilled at the prospect of wandering my apartment complex alone. Three years had taken its toll; I wasn't as comfortable with late-night walks as I used to be.

"Fine," I muttered reluctantly. "Whatev—" 

The hiss of the bus arriving interrupted me. "Come on," Rian said, gesturing for me to follow. Sighing, I stepped on the raised platform and took a seat.

We passed the trip in silence, and 15 minutes later we got off the bus. We started walking in the direction of my apartment, and every few minutes I'd sneak a glance at Rian, almost as if to make sure he was still there.

Finally, we reached my building. "I guess you can, um, go now." I fidgeted, unsure what to say. "Thanks."

"Thank me later," he said coolly. "I'll walk you to your door."

I blinked in surprise. "Uh, that's not—you don't have to, um . . ."

Rian gave a short sigh. "Don't argue for once, alright? Just let me."

Without waiting for my response, he marched inside and dragged me along with him. A little irritated and a lot confused, I settled on just keeping my mouth shut. His hand on my wrist was a foreign feeling, and I waited with bated breath for the pain to come.

I waited in vain; there was nothing. Was he not the trigger after all?

While I was silently contemplating, Rian pressed the button for the elevator. He still hadn't let go of me.

With a ding, the elevator arrived. "Come on," Rian muttered, pulling me behind him. I watched quietly as the doors slid closed. Suddenly, I became acutely aware that it was just the two of us, enclosed in this very small box together. Alone.

And his hand . . .

Get your mind out of the gutter, Hanna.

Extending one elegant finger, he pressed the button for the fourth floor. I frowned in confusion.

"Uhh . . . Rian?" I asked slowly.

"What?"

"How do you know which floor I live on?"

Rian froze, his grip on my wrist tightening almost imperceptibly. I studied his face intently. "Have you been here before?" I questioned curiously.

There was a long pause before he answered. A very long pause. 

"No," he said finally. "Rokim . . . told me."

I shook my head, still not understanding. "But why would Rokim tell you where I—"

Boom!

I was interrupted by a loud crash somewhere above us. I let out a yelp of surprise as the elevator screeched to a halt.

"What the hell was that?" I yelled, alarmed.

"The elevator must have malfunctioned," Rian said, his voice a good degree calmer than mine. I felt a rush of envy; how was he able to stay so composed all the time? "There's no emergency button either." He glanced down at me, about to say something else, when he stopped short.

Seeing his face change, I quickly asked, "What? What is it?" What kind of horror could have put even Rian on edge?

"You . . . " Rian didn't finish, but there was something very strange about the way he looked at me. His eyes darkened, but not with malice or irritation. It was almost . . . hungry. 

I squinted in confusion, following his gaze to the source of his rapid change in demeanor.

Oh my god.

I jerked away from where I'd been wrapped around Rian's body and clinging to him in fright. I felt a blush sweep over my face in record time; I'd been twined around him like ivy. 

"That was," I gulped, "not intentional."

". . . I figured as much."

Forcibly turning my thoughts away from how weirdly muscled he was, I instead focused on our current predicament. Upon doing so, I groaned. I suddenly realized exactly how we'd gotten into this situation.

"Stupid!" I hissed, kicking the wall. Probably not the wisest decision, but what the hell. I was mad.

"What?" Rian asked.

I leaned against the wall and slid onto the floor in exasperation. "Remember that she-demon I told you about?"

Rian stared at me, and I got the distinct sense he thought I'd gone nuts. "That mythical creature you brought up on the bus?"

"She's not mythical!" I snapped.

"Technically the term is ifrit—"

"You're brilliant! I get it!" I exclaimed. "So would you just sit and listen, Rian?"

That shut him up. After a moment, he sat down on the floor next to me. "Alright. Tell me."

I sighed, putting my head in my hands. "I got into an . . . altercation with her earlier today. There was a paper on the door saying that the elevator was out of order, but in the chaos I accidentally knocked it off."

Rian didn't say anything, so I looked up at him. "We're stuck in here because of me. I'm really sorry," I said sincerely. "We probably won't be able to leave until morning, when the janitors make their rounds."

He simply stared at me. My breath hitched; I hadn't realized how close together we'd been sitting. That hungry look was back in his eyes, and I felt a shiver go up my spine. "Rian?" I asked, my voice small.

"It's fine. We can wait," he said lowly. It was one of those rare occurrences when the mask was down, and I subconsciously leaned forward. "Actually, Hanna, I—"

Crash!

A loud noise interrupted him, and I barely kept myself from jumping into his lap again. "Oh, god," I muttered. "We're gonna die."

I was stuck in a tiny elevator with no emergency button, cramped together with Rian who seemed to delight in confusing the hell out of me, and there was a high probability the building's crappy infrastructure would send us to the bottom of the elevator shaft.

This could not possibly get any worse.

And that's, of course, when the lights went out.