NOAH
The villa felt strangely hollow once Cyan left. It wasn't just the silence; it was the way the air seemed to settle, like a theater after the lead actor has taken his final, flamboyant bow.
Cyan had a way of occupying every cubic inch of a room with his pink hair and his sharp, rattling energy. Once the heavy front door clicked shut, the quiet that rushed back in felt heavy.
I stood in the kitchen doorway, clutching the hem of a black t-shirt that definitely didn't belong to me. It smelled like cedar and something metallic, it smelled like Cassian.
"Did I interrupt something?" I asked, my voice still a little scratchy from sleep.
Cassian didn't look up from his coffee. "No. He wasn't planning to stay long anyway. Cyan is a creature of brief, violent transitions."
"Oh." I accepted that. I didn't know Cyan well enough to dispute it, so I just filed it away.
