Page 35 of Gunpowder

He sat the cup down in front of the door and typed out a quick text to Wren.

Theres a coffee outside your door if youre home. Thought you could use it. Happy studying

The reply came almost immediately.

Sunshine

Your texting is atrocious. Also, you could just come inside like a civilized person.

He glared at the door. Wren really didn’t deserve him being this nice to him. Blair was trying to be considerate and give him space to do his school shit, but fine. He picked the coffee back up and opened the door, surprised to find it unlocked. His heart skipped a couple beats as he crossed the threshold, recalling his last visit.

Well the sight of the apartment wasn’t going to call up any memories of the kiss, that was for sure. Blair couldn’t see shit. He blinked against the sudden darkness after the cool white light from the hallway’s streamlined fixtures. At first, the only illumination he noticed came from the expanse of glass that made up the far wall of the apartment. The vast window felt so big and cold in the dark.

His eyes adjusted and he realized the triple screens on the computer desk were on, and familiar, dexterous fingers skated across the keyboard backlit by LEDs. He could only make out the back of Wren’s head by the frame of an expensive looking headset, the volume controls and brand logo glowing blue.

“I would have left this outside,” Blair said, lifting the paper cup.

Wren turned in his desk chair and lowered his headset down around his neck. He leaned back and the chair whined in protest. “Bring it here.”

“Demanding,” Blair muttered, but he crossed the living room anyway.

It felt weird, handing Wren his coffee like it wasn’t just the second time it had been in his apartment. Like it had been more than a couple days since he stopped straddling the fence between wanting to strangle Wren and wanting Wren and finally acted on one of those desires.

“How are things with the other gang?” Wren asked.

Blair leaned on his desk, careful not to touch any of the computer equipment or carefully stacked papers. “They’re hiding like rats in the sewer right now. They come out long enough to start shit and then disappear again.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “We tailed one of them on a bike the other night—black with green smoke along the sides, from what Spencer told me. Phantom colors. It probably would have led us back to their hideout, but we were in their territory when Spencer lost them.”

“It sounds like a fairly distinctive bike and I imagine Incindious has plenty of contacts. Just search databases and traffic cameras and track it down.” Wren cracked his neck, briefly turning his head toward the computer monitors and revealing the dark circles under his eyes.

“I wish it was that easy but Phantom were hackers before they started this with us. If they don’t want anything traced back to their people then there’s not going to be a record of it. Vehicles, apartments, they’re all, well, phantoms. We found one of their top people’s apartment but hanging around there got Adam hit by a car.” He looked more closely at Wren, noting that his hair was in more disorder than usual and his fingers didn’t seem completely steady where they held his coffee. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just been busy studying,” Wren said in a carefree tone that Blair didn’t believe for a second.

“When’s the last time you slept?”

Wren looked away. “I don’t know, a couple days or so.”

“A couple days or so? For fuck’s sake, Wren, are you trying to kill yourself?”

“You’re incredibly loud,” Wren said, rubbing his temples.

“Studying isn’t going to mean shit if you end up in the hospital before you graduate!”

“I won’t.”

Blair ignored him. “If you don’t remember the last time you slept then I don’t even want to think about your eating habits. Stay right here, I’m going to make you something to eat.”

“Blair—”

“I’m not going anywhere so don’t ask!” He took a deep breath, then lowered his voice. “I’ll go home as soon as you eat a hot meal and lay down. You of all people must know what you’re doing to your body.”

Remarkably, Wren didn’t seem to have a comeback for once. He spun his desk chair back toward the computer and pulled his headset back into place. Figuring that was the closest thing to permission he was going to get, Blair went into the kitchen and turned on the light above the stove. It wasn’t as bright as the overheads, not as harsh to adjust to in the pitch-dark apartment. He started opening cabinets in search of some actual food. He found stacks of ceramic dishes that might not have been touched since Wren moved in, a cabinet full of glasses and mugs that looked like it got a bit more use, and finally a door that wasn’t much smaller than the front door, that led to a walk-in pantry.

As soon as Blair saw the shelves, it was everything he could do not to go back out into the living room and start yelling again. All the damn money Wren seemed to have, and the massive pantry was stocked with nothing but granola bars, instant ramen, and fucking coffee. He walked out of the pantry and decided to try the fridge. Maybe there was at least some leftovers he could put in the microwave.

The rest of the kitchen was pristine and orderly without a personal touch in sight, save for some drinkware in the sink. There were no splashes of color, no cute, decorative items or anything else that made it look like a home. The double-door fridge was no exception; it was clean and smudge-free (an impressive feat with that stainless steel finish) save for a single sheet of paper held in place by a magnet. He squinted in the low light provided by the stove a few feet away. It was definitely a child’s drawing, but not bad by any means. It portrayed a dark haired man with glasses rendered in strokes of pen and markers. Blair could only guess the colorful shirt and pants were meant to be scrubs.

His eyes traveled further down to the scribble in the bottom left corner, and his heart climbed into his throat. In familiar black writing, it said Dr. Masters.

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