Avoiding him did jack shit. It only made it worse when I saw him and it only became worse when I found out he was being bunked in my quarter since the guest houses had been damaged in the storm. I could only sit at the statue of Mary and pray for some form of relief, eventually choosing  a prayer from the Orthodox Church to try and relieve some of the emotional strain.

After a good half-hour of that, I was eventually given leave to go and continue my transcription of the chapter. It was a welcome, beyond welcome actually, relief. I nearly ran into the door in my haste but, as soon as I was in the study, I was free. I walked to my own desk, pulling out the folder of papers before setting up the work on the desk itself. I had only finished the border, not yet decided on whether or not I wanted to ink in the negative space at all. I did want to do some painting on the clam shell, and maybe do a watercolour gradient on the cloth but, beyond that, it was all up to the twirling of imagination.

The siren stared back at me, her body half-finished in its sketch and the bird legs noticeably disproportionate to the rest of her body. I would have to fix that today as well. I decided to keep the upper part of her body, reshaping the bottom part and then the foreground. I began with her face, drawing out a darker pencil from my supplies and blocking out the shapes of the shadows on her face. It was a technique I had stolen from Caravaggio's work, and adapted it to pencil though I knew that this rough draft would be painted in its final.

"Very beautiful border."

I could hear my life laughing at me as Adonis called out his compliment, bending over my desk to watch me work. He was unaware, distinctly unaware, of my own discomfort at his closeness. Yet, there was an undeniable warmth to him that made me nearly lean against his shoulder.

"It's for a transcription," I said with a firm, monotone voice. I had attempted and failed to hide my discomfort. He stood up, and brought a small chair to the side of me and sat down.

"A siren?"

"Yes," I confirmed, continuing with the shadows. I kept feeling his eyes on me and it took everything in me to not look back at him. My brows knitted together and my back had started to ache with how tightly I held myself in his presence. It crashed when I felt his hand squeeze my thigh.

"You're too uptight, little Icarus, art is meant to be enjoyed."

I reduced into a blushing mess at that point, turning around to stare at him angrily. Rolling his eyes, he took his hand off my thigh. In spite of myself, the cold space left was uncomfortable and I turned back to my work trying to forget it ever happened.

"You're like an old man," he said. Memories came flooding back of when Brother Paul said that. I turned sharply to look at him. I think he got the message and lifted up his hands.

"I'm just saying," he said, not leaving. This was uncanny, but also deeply annoying. I turned back around to continue with my work, but his presence only got worse as time passed. Eventually, I gave up and slammed down my pencil. I slumped in my chair, turning over to look at him to see that he was not there but on the floor near a shelf. He had a book and was aimlessly paging through it as it leaned against his thigh. It was one of my other transcriptions, and I cannot tell you how much I wanted him out of here.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, getting up from the chair and rushing towards him. I reached out to snatch the book from him but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me down. I toppled over him and his wounded arm rested precariously against my back as his other hand prevented me from falling further.

"You -" I couldn't even reach the right words. His taunting smile had thrown me off entirely and the hand that was on my back had become exceptionally hot. I squirmed uncomfortably but he reached his other hand around and pulled me close to him, pinning me against his chest.

His heart was beating quickly, and his breath was ragged as it moved through his lungs.

"What's wrong, little Icarus?"

"I am not Icarus, and this is wrong. This is not allowed here."

"All humans fall, Icarus, without a doubt. It's the nature of the world."

"I am not Icarus," I growled at him, feeling his hands tighten on my back, one moving down onto my waist and pressing my hips against his.

"Not since your fall, no."

"You're the Adversary," I declared, trying to pull back from him despite every bone in my body wishing to just sit here.

"Are you that afraid of your own nature that you create an idol to condemn it, Icarus?"

"Adonis, you stupid bird, shut up."

He smiled, raising his eyebrow and I jolted as I said it. I looked up at him and he finally smiled genuinely at me, his hand ruffling my hair before resting on my face.

"Congratulations, little Icarus, you finally put two and two together. I must say, hearing your whimper for me to stay was very tempting."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Granted, and as you can see, I'm still here."

"You can't be, that's not normal."

"You live in a monastery, little Icarus, you of all people should understand that ideas of normal and strange are just extensions of worldly views. Things aren't 'normal' and 'strange', they just are, I am that I am."

His ability to quote some allusion to scripture was enough to prove he wasn't some foul being, at least according to most understandings. Still, his hands on me were not wanted. I lie, his hands on me were wrong, but still somewhat wanted. For fuck's sake, I can't stand it.

I slumped against his chest, letting out a gritted grunt.

"Let me go, please," I mumbled. He let out a long, theatrical sigh before releasing me. As I got up, he took back the book and continued reading. I stared at him with too many feelings to actually discern. Was I annoyed? Yes. Was I also just completely dumbfounded at the audacity of this - of him? Incredibly.

He didn't seem to notice the way I glared at him, still deep in the book. Walking back to my desk, I began to haphazardly hatch away small shadows, my grip on the pencil a little too tight. My wrist began hurting halfway through and I realized that he had absolutely sent me off center. I couldn't even draw the shadows right anymore. I shoved the draft back into the folder and held my face in my hands, trying to regain my composure with breathing. Looking out over the garden, I saw the 'zen garden' now finished. Maybe I should ask the head if I could do it tomorrow, to see if I can get my head off this man and his behavior.

Despite my attempts at relaxing, I still stiffened with the thought of his hand on my back, my waist and even my face came into my mind. Those sensations, the sweet sound of his voice, and the way he simply looked at me with a childlike jest was enough to send me into a hell of emotions. His very existence seems like a cruel joke, and his not leaving was the punchline of it all. Maybe it was a test?

I had scratched a patch of skin on my hand raw as I thought, and nearly fell from my seat when he grabbed my hand.

"You shouldn't do that, it's bad for you," he said concerned, looking at my hand this way and that way, before his fingers rested on massaging the red skin as though it would take away the discomfort. He didn't notice how red my face was, nor how I was practically sweating waterfalls against the gentle probes of his thumb on my flesh.

"How long have you been doing this?"

"I do it whenever I'm stressed," I watched as he set his jaw and continued massaging the skin. His hands moved lower, down to my wrist which he continued to rub with an assured confidence.

"How often are you stressed?"

"Why do you care?"

He stopped, looking up at me with annoyance flashing behind his eyes. That's when it hit me. If he was the Adonis Bird, then he must've felt that he owed me for taking care of him. I retracted my hand from his. he raised his eyebrow accusingly as I did so but accepted my decision. He decided to rather sit on the floor next to me, as I sat in a near-panic. He looked like a puppy from that position, watching its owner.

The heat in my body only grew, and it became almost unbearable to see this entire view before me, and to think that I know what is underneath those clothes. It was the way he just was, I couldn't change it and I don't think I wanted to. I don't think I needed to...

I think I just needed him as he was.