Startled, Klaus glanced around but saw no one besides Cleo.
Cleo, watching him, became confused herself.
"You alright?" She looked at him in confusion. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Klaus scanned the area one last time before his gaze drifted back to Cleo. He blinked, snapping himself out of it.
"Yeah, I'm fine." He forced a smile. "Seems I'm a bit more tired than I thought; can't wait to break in that new mattress."
Cleo's face eased up into a warm smile. "You definitely could use some sleep after that series of unfortunate events."
Klaus shut the trunk and grabbed his bag from the back seat.
"Right?" he replied.
He swung the backpack onto his shoulder—or tried to. Something stopped him.
He looked down to find slender fingers tipped with red nail polish wrapped around his forearm.
"I can get that for you," Cleo said, her free hand moving towards the bag.
After everything Cleo had already done for him, asking her to carry his bag—even if it was light—left a bad taste in his mouth.
"I got it," he said, dismissing it. "It's not too heavy or anything, so I'll be fine."
But even after his dismissal, Cleo's hand remained in place. "I insist," she answered back.
"You honestly don't have to; it's not a hassle at all," Klaus shot down. "Besides, there's an elevator. I'll be inside before the weight even starts to matter."
There was a brief silence. Cleo thought for a moment, then her expression shifted to one of understanding. She let go of his arm and walked ahead of him.
Every stride made her hips sway from side to side, captivating any onlooker, including Klaus.
She walked toward the foyer doors, then turned back to Klaus. "You waiting for an invite or something? Hurry it up!" she said.
Klaus followed with his luggage.
Upon entering the foyer, he was greeted by a blend of scents—cardboard boxes mingled with floral notes and a subtle earthy undertone. The lobby's modern linen decor created a warm, inviting atmosphere that was both cozy and visually appealing.
On the left was the front desk, and on the right was a seating area. Behind the desk stood a somewhat older gentleman dressed in a white button-up shirt, black slacks, and wire-rimmed glasses.
Cleo chatted casually with him, her curly hair drooping over her shoulder.
Klaus moved toward the desk and walked up beside Cleo. He couldn't help but notice the way her laughter filled the room. Not overbearingly loud but like a smooth melody that'd instantly catch one's attention.
"And here comes the man of the hour," she announced, gesturing towards Klaus.
Their eyes met for a moment. He held her gaze a fraction longer than usual before tearing his eyes away and looking at the clerk.
The man smiled, watching their interaction. "Do you have your ID on you, sir?" he inquired. "The lady already informed me."
Klaus glanced at Cleo, who gave an innocent smile. "Figured I'd save you the trouble."
He returned a light smile and handed over his ID to the gentleman. "Right, thanks."
The process went smoothly, and Klaus received the keys to his new place. The pair of keys was cool to the touch, with a light silver color that emitted a subtle glare in the overhead lights. A sudden warmth enveloped his being, knowing he now had a place to call his own.
Sure, he would miss his parents, but it was time for the bird to leave its nest.
"I never got your name, by the way." His words were directed toward the gentleman manning the counter.
He chuckled before answering. "Pardon me, I must've forgotten." He extended his hand to Klaus. "My name's Patrick, but the residents call me Mr. Porter."
Klaus took his hand and shook it firmly. "Well, I'm sure you already know my name, but for the sake of courtesy, I'm Klaus," he replied.
"And your surname, may I ask?" Patrick asked.
"Silas," he smiled.
The handshake dropped, both hands retreating to their sides.
"Well, Mr. Silas, don't let me hold you. I'm sure you must be pretty exhausted from your flight," he said, nodding at his suitcases.
Cleo laughed, Klaus joining in. Patrick raised an eyebrow.
"That and more," she said, shaking her head.
"I'll have to inquire about that some other time," Patrick smiled. "Anyways, your apartment should be well furnished, seeing all the furniture being carried up a few weeks ago. Good to see young people nowadays planning."
"Thank you for the information," Klaus replied. "And I'll be sure to tell you all about my recent encounters some other time, but like you said. I could really do with some rest."
Patrick nodded, gesturing the two towards the elevator. "Your chariot awaits."
Klaus nodded and walked toward the elevator. Cleo waved at Patrick and trailed behind Klaus.
The elevator arrived, its doors sliding open.
Both Klaus and Cleo entered the elevator with the luggage and were greeted by jazzy elevator music. Klaus, being the first to step in, looked at the rows of buttons on the panel before choosing the seventh floor.
The elevator doors closed smoothly, making the music more pronounced, as well as the faint scent of hydraulic oil and cleaning agents.
A rhythmic tapping filled the small room.
Klaus glanced over at Cleo, who was tapping on the elevator's railing, the cold metal thrumming under her nails.
It wasn't long before the doors softly hummed open, indicating their arrival.
They both stepped out of the elevator, with Cleo following behind Klaus down the left hallway.
"704, 705, 706," he paused at the next door. "Here we are. 707."
He set his suitcase aside, brought out the silver key, and slipped it into the lock before turning it. The lock clicked. He reached for the doorknob and pushed the door open.
A weak draft escaped through the crack he made, carrying the faint scent of new furniture and tangy citrus. Klaus opened it further and took in the sight of his new place, smiling.
The apartment was modern, showcasing sleek minimalism and warmth. Light wood tones paired beautifully with matte black cabinetry, creating a balanced contrast.
The open-concept layout seamlessly integrated the living room, kitchen, and dining area, with no wasted space. Recessed lighting and the soft natural light from the side windows enhanced the sense of space.
A textured beige rug at the center of the living room added coziness, while the lack of decor kept the place uncluttered and refined.
Overall, the place was picture-perfect. Yeah, it was missing a few key things, but Klaus could worry about that later. Right now, the extra-soft mattress he had ordered was calling his name.
"Already looks like home," Cleo complimented. "Seems you have some taste, Silas."
Her pronunciation of his last name sounded like a sultry lullaby.
Klaus smiled, "Couldn't you tell by the outfit?"
"Eh," she replied. "Not bad, but nothing special either."
He rolled his eyes, placing the suitcases in the living room.
"Oh, right," he blurted, suddenly remembering something from earlier. "What was that about back there?"
Cleo dropped his bag onto one of the three empty stools at the island and slid into another one. "What do you mean?" she asked, glancing up with a knowing smirk.
"That little act you put up earlier," he replied. Then his eyes narrowed. "You an aspiring actor or something?"
"Well, aren't you quick on the uptake?"
Klaus paused and smiled in confusion. "Wait, I was right?"
"Yeah, nailed it right on the head," she smiled back.