Leo

I keep my eyes locked on Josephine as she tries to hold herself together while walking to the bathroom.

Her brother is one piece of shit.

What the fuck is his problem?

The moment he entered Josephine's place and saw us—our hands—he kept shooting glares at me.

I have done nothing to him to make him hate me.

You'd think he's mad at me for sleeping with his sister, but if he has a sister other than Josephine, then I haven't.

And I don't think I've fucked a girlfriend or an ex of his.

So what the fuck is his fucking problem?

He has the nerve to tell Josephine I'm 'bad news' when he brings strangers into his little sister's apartment.

What a fucking hypocrite.

If he cares about his sister's safety and well-being so much, then he shouldn't just bring his friends here without giving Josephine notice. Because, like she said, what if she was naked? I'm sure he wouldn't want his male friends to see that.

Roman and the rest yell and shout while playing some game on Xbox and pretend I'm not here.

I'm still sitting where I am as long as possible to give Josephine some alone time to do whatever she needs to do in the bathroom.

Is the concept of privacy so difficult to understand?

Every decent human being knows that you don't just enter someone's place like that. Brother or not. From what I've gathered, this is a recurring thing. Something Roman does the most.

I hate how Josephine's eyes almost glossed over with tears, but she held it in. And I hate that fake smile she gave me before walking away.

I can't take it anymore. I want to comfort Josephine somehow. Standing up, I make my way to the bathroom without glancing at any of the guys.

I can practically feel Roman's eyes burning holes in my back, but I'm focused on one thing now.

Softly knocking on the bathroom door, I say, "It's me."

Is it that difficult to just fucking raise your hand and knock? A two-year-old can do it. A fucking dog can do it.

The door opens a hair and I push it further open with a hand before entering.

I gently close it without turning the locks, even though I really want to. But I'm one hundred percent sure Roman will be on our asses in a couple of minutes.

Josephine is sitting on the toilet with the lid closed and she's hunched forward, her head in hands.

I lean against the sink and just stand there, giving her another moment to herself while still letting her know I'm here.

When I can't take the silence in the bathroom anymore, I say the first thing that comes to my mind. "Do you know how many folds a chef's toque has?"

Her head slowly lifts, and she furrows her brows.

"What?" Her face is flushed from anger, no doubt.

"The white hat of a chef." I repeat. "Do you know how many folds it has?"

It was something I watched on TV yesterday.

"Uhmm." Her teeth sink into her lower lip. "I don't know."

I give her a gentle smile. "A hundred. It's supposed to represent the number of ways an egg can be cooked."

"That's," she clears her throat. "Interesting."

Her eyes look dull and the full grin she had earlier is entirely wiped off. And it's bothering me.

"Have you ever thought of changing the locks?" I laugh to make it look like I'm joking when I'm not really.

She sighs and leans back. "Yeah. And it's really tempting right now."

I want to grab her hand and take her to the closest locksmith in town where she can change the locks. But Josephine isn't that kind of person. She has a big heart.

"Do you want to get out of here?" I whisper?

I can take her to the end of the world or sit in the presence of her brother for ten hours. Whatever she chooses.

Before she can answer, her brother Roman enters. More like barges in like a member of the SWAT team trying to catch a serial killer.

"I need to piss." He grumbles it like a demand.

There are a few places I can tell him to piss.

Josephine rolls her eyes and wordlessly exits the bathroom. While I'm bypassing him, he shoulder checks me. He would need to put on more muscle if he wants to shake me.

I keep on moving till I reach Josephine's bedroom, where she's standing at the threshold.

Without needing to say anything, I follow her inside and keep the door ajar.

This is Josephine's home. She's not gonna let her brothers and a few other strange guys make her leave her own house.

She sits on the bed and rests her chin on her raised knees.

Her bedroom is tidy, with only the vanity cluttered.

"You don't have to stay here," she starts, her eyes not really meeting mine. "I'm sure you have plans already."

"I want to stay." I say and snatch the deck of cards we used during the previous game nights from her vanity. "How about I teach you all about Black Jack so you'll beat them all during the next game night?" I offer.

Her eyes meet mine and she smiles softly. "Yes."

It's not a full-blown smile or grin, but I'll take it. It's better than nothing.

•••

After probably three hours, the yelling, shouting and video game sounds finally stop. Multiple heavy footsteps trail off as people leave Josephine's apartment.

The bedroom door creaks as Milan opens it wider. No one bothered us the entire time they were here. Not even Roman. Which was surprising.

Milan looks between us, how we're sitting on the ground with cards scattered in front of us.

"We're heading out." He tells his sister.

"Bye." Josephine replies dryly, not bothering to glance at him.

He gives me an embarrassed smile before he, too, leaves the place.

The sound of the front door closing clicks and Josephine lies on her back and throws an arm over her eyes, heaving out a big sigh.

I rest my hand on her ankle and smooth her skin with a thumb.

I get what she's feeling to an extent. My family sometimes insists on me going out and spending time with other people when I just want to have a day to myself and my thoughts. People think it's a bad thing. To be left alone with your thoughts—sometimes dark ones—for a long period. But it feels good. Now and then, you need to have a moment to reflect and recharge.

But I appreciate my family for trying to get me out and about. Because it can lead to a self-depreciation session.

"Ugh," she groans, her arm still over her face. "I don't wanna see the mess they made. And I still need to shower. I feel all sticky and disgusting after cleaning the entire day."

"How about this?" I propose. "You go take a nice, long, warm shower while I fix the damage they made."

She spent the day cleaning, and she's tired. Physically and emotionally. No way in hell am I letting her clean the filth they left behind.

Her wide eyes meet mine as she sits up. "What? Are you crazy? No."

"Yes." Squeezing her ankle, I give her a smile.

"No. You can just go home. You don't need to do that." She shakes her head.

"You're right." I nod and gently frame her cheek when she keeps on shaking her head. "But just do as I say. Take as long as you need."

I move my thumb over her cheek, and she stops shaking her head. "But—"

"No buts." I lean closer to her. "Take that shower and pretend I'm not here and that your house is as clean as possible." She stares at me for a few seconds before nodding.

I stand and offer her my hand. She hesitantly grabs it and takes a step toward her bathroom.

"Go on." I shoo her with a laugh.

When she enters the bathroom, I close the bedroom door and go to the living room.

I sigh as I see beer bottles everywhere. Along with empty bags of chips and snacks. And crumbs all over the couch and coffee table.

Seriously? It's common courtesy to clean up after you've made a mess in someone else's place.

I quickly grab all the bottles and put them in the crate before putting it outside the apartment so Josephine doesn't see it. I'll grab it on my way out. Then I use the handheld vacuum to clean the floor and couches.

Wow, a group of toddlers wouldn't make as much of a mess as them.

When I've put away everything and am satisfied with how clean the living room looks, I open Netflix on her TV and cue up a comedy film.

Josephine's been in the shower for about thirty minutes when I see her coming. I raise my hand so she can sit next to me. And she does. She nestles herself next to me with her feet on the couch.

She's wearing a matching pajama set and her hair is in two braids.

I put my arm around her and pull her closer to me. Giving her forehead a lingering kiss, I start the movie.

"Are you hungry?" I whisper.

She shakes her head and rests it on my chest.

I don't know what I should tell her, so I say nothing. I comfort her with my body, rubbing one hand over her hair while the other I rest on her knees and give her a squeeze.

"Thank you." She mumbles after a while, almost as if she's embarrassed. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's not her fault her brothers are idiots.

I give her leg a squeeze, letting her know I heard her.

In a few minutes, her breathing evens out and when I glance at her, she's fast asleep.

I watch the movie till the end. Just to have a reason to hold Josephine to me.

Her body is molded to the side of mine, her head laying on top of where my heart beats.

I tenderly scoop her in my arms and walk to her bedroom.

Setting her in her bed, she moves so she's laying on her stomach and hugging a pillow to her. I stifle a chuckle.

She's cute.

I crouch and drag a finger over her smooth cheek before lightly pecking it.

"Good night." I whisper to her.

Next to the front door, I see her key on the keyholder. I search for a pen and paper and write a brief note.

After locking her front door, I wrap the note around the key, where it says why her key is on the floor, and slide it inside her apartment from beneath the door.

I never want to see Josephine appear so small and fragile anymore.

And I'm going to try my damn hardest to prevent it from happening.

• ••• •

A/N:

Okay, I know it's getting really annoying how her brothers—Roman, to be more specific—are behaving. But there's only one more instance where one or more of them enters her apartment without texting her or knocking ... 👀