Didn't wanna be
Your ghost
Didn't wanna be
Anyone's ghost...
But I don't want anybody else...
I don't want anybody else...

- The National

Viktor is prompt in picking me up, but as always, I'm legging behind in getting ready.

He knocks on the door just as I am finishing blow-drying my hair. I'm still in my robe and everything.

Tripping over those damn pizza boxes, I hurry over and answer the door. "Sorry, sorry," I mutter.

"I texted you four times that I was here," he groans, then takes in my robe and wayward hair. "Saaasshhhaaa," he groans even more.

"I'll be quick!" I yell back to him as I move back to the bathroom.

I hear him kicking away all the pizza boxes and brown bags as he enters my apartment. "Do you not have a garbage bin?"

I run a brush through my hair a couple of times, then fly into my room, picking up jeans I wore the other day and shimmying my way into them, then finding a t-shirt and my worn leather jacket.

I peel around the corner back to the bathroom to apply some makeup.

"Why do you put that goop on?" Viktor grumbles, coming up beside me to lean in the doorway of the bathroom.

"I should look a little decent since this will be our first meeting," I explain. I glob concealer under my bruised eyes and powder my sallow skin. I know no amount of makeup will cover up how shitty and hungover I look, but I don't have to look pretty-- just capable .

"Sasha...?" Viktor's voice comes from my room. I hadn't noticed he moved from the door, his steps a practiced silence. I don't like the tone of his voice, and I suspect I know why he sounds the way he does even before he rounds the corner, stern faced, holding the gun up in question. "The fuck is this?"

I pause powdering my face, staring at the cold metal thing in his hand rather than braving the coldness of his jet black gaze. "A gun, obviously."

"Why was it on your bed, surrounded by empty bottles?"

I avert my gaze, going back to my unpleasant reflection. "I was cleaning it. What's your problem? Settle down."

He stands there silently as I finish covering up all my flaws.

"I'm taking this with me," he suddenly says, tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans.

I glare at him. "Vik, that's mine!"

"You're irresponsible with it."

"Who the fuck are you?" I demand. "The police?" I reach around his waist to grab the gun back, but he restrains me, holding my arms firmly at my sides. This makes me furious. "Vik, I swear to God, if you keep trying to tell me what to do--"

He leans down and places a heavy kiss onto my lips. I stiffen at first, but as I inhale his familiar scent of spearmint and feel the familiar graze of stubble against my chin, I relax, the tension melting away. He pulls back an inch and looks into my eyes sadly. "I just don't want you to leave me."

I never like these moments with Vik, where his care for me makes me feel vulnerable. I never know how to handle the fact that he, for whatever reason, gives a damn about me. So I pull away from his embrace, turning my back to him. " I thought I told you not to do that anymore," I mumble, bringing a hand across my lips, like I can somehow wipe away the feelings he gives me.

" I'm keeping the gun."

I sigh, frustrated. "Fine. It's jammed anyway."

"So much for ' I was just cleaning it'..."

I turn back around, pushing past him to throw on my boots. "Let's go. We don't have very much time before you have to be back."

" You're the one who needed to get all dolled up for this guy."

"Demon," I correct.

He looks at me with concern after I say this. "Are you going to be okay with working with a Demon?"

"I don't have a choice, do I?" I gesture for us to exit, and we leave it at that.