A muffled growl in her stomach wakes her up and she refuses to open her eyes as she rolls over and curls against the crumpled sheets. No way she's getting up in the middle of the night. Not even if her stomach throws a tantrum over the dinner she had missed in favor of one more hour of study. She needs her rest now, finals start tomorrow and she'll get all the sleep she can manage. She promises herself a nice, big breakfast and hopes her stomach will compromise. She's falling asleep again when the rumbling in her belly wakes her up with a start. She makes a disgruntled noise, opening her eyes slowly and trying to adjust her vision to the dark room.
Fine.
She pushes up and swings her feet off the bed. Squinting, she feels around her nightstand for her glasses and ends up knocking her phone to the floor where it lands on the carpet with a light thud. She flinches, and glances back. Through the blurriness that her vision offers she distinguishes the outline of the person lying on the other side, apparently unperturbed by the noise and movement beside him.
Unlike her, Ken is the quietest of sleepers. She isn't sure if she snores, but judging by both her sisters' ability to make windows and doors rattle throughout the night, she wouldn't bet on being the only exception in her family. Still, if she does snore, Ken has never mentioned it.
The only one who is at all bothered by the abysmal difference of bedtime manners is she. She hadn't cared until his staying the night at her place became more frequent and now she worries every time about it. She couldn't be more unlike him and his quiet ways. The way he soundlessly sleeps makes her paranoid and sometimes she finds herself leaning over him and placing a hand before his face to make sure he's breathing, of course, more often than not, she ends up smacking him awake. She always pretends to be asleep when it happens, and he usually just places her hand gently away from his face and goes back to sleep… sometimes though, he'll take a moment to brush her cheek lightly, and it takes every bit of will from her to stay still as her heart drums wildly in her chest.
She stands up slowly, trying not to jostle him. Damn tiny bed, if she had a bigger one maybe he'd sleep here every day. She smiles, there's something to consider.
Her stomach growls at her, reminding her of the reason she was getting up in the middle of the night. She sighs, giving up on finding her glasses on her cluttered stand. Glasses won't make much of a difference in the darkness and she doesn't want to wake Ken up. He had stayed up helping her study and had also missed dinner. No reason to deprive him of sleep as well because she couldn't control her stomach the way he did.
She manages to exit the room, tripping only twice before reaching the door, and then makes her way to the kitchen, keeping a hand on the wall to guide her steps and to avoid crashing face first on the floor. Her eyes seem to have adjusted to the dark surroundings enough that she can now make up the blurry shapes of furniture. She turns to enter the kitchen and freezes under the doorframe. Her eyes widen as she stares at the figure hunched over the counter, its back apparently turned to her.
She was pretty sure she didn't own any piece of furniture that tall.
She grips the wall and shakes her head. It's dark and she doesn't have her glasses on. It's the perfect set-up for her brain to try to scare her senseless. She has always been such a scaredy-cat. But she's a twenty-one year old now. She's an adult. A grown up who knows better than to fall prey for such childish—
Her heart jumps to her throat when the figure seems to grow taller before her eyes. What kind of creature is this? Did it move? Did it just move and grow? Furniture did not move. Kitchen utensils did not grow taller. Whatever the hell this thing is it is certainly neither. She hears soft crunching sounds and a light scraping on the floor as the blurry shadow before her eyes shifts slightly.
She thinks of making a dash to the bedroom and alerting Ken but she probably wouldn't make it. Certainly not with panic blinding her already compromised vision. She will fall prey to whatever this thing is before she can even turn around. Demons and ghosts can teleport, right? She would have to fight it. Distract it long enough so Ken can escape and call for help.
She swallows hard, her hand moving slowly to the light switch. She won't run, she will die fighting… and, very possibly, screaming and in a pool of her own pee.
She makes a quick mental inventory of all the objects nearby that could serve her as a weapon. The most immediate object is a bowl of fruit to her left, next to the bowl a box of her favorite cereal, followed by her juice processor and finally … a dish towel.
She hears shuffling, and her eyes widen in horror as the figure begins turning towards her.
She sucks in air, hoping that her screams give her sleeping boyfriend enough time to get up and escape. She would hate to die in vain.
She flips on the light switch while letting out her loudest of battle cries, through the corner of her eye she sees it retreat a step, and she doesn't waste any time, the fruit bowl is already in her hands.
She thinks she hears someone's strangled yelp shortly followed by her name, but she's pumped on adrenaline now, ready to defend her home and her boyfriend on the next room, who will have to live a life without her by his side. At least he will remember her as a fighter.
Fruit is blindly hurled across the room before the crystal bowl follows it, she hears it shatter on the wall, apparently having missed its target, and she curses, loudly and with words that would make a sailor proud. She turns and she's yanking the juice processor, losing momentum when she realizes the thing is still plugged to the electric outlet, she lets out half a frustrated sob as she finally manages to pry it free.
"Take this you stupid, demonic—." she's pushed against the wall, and the air leaves her lungs in a quiet 'oomph'. Her wrists are pinned above her head. Instinctively, she shuts her eyes. Whatever it is, she doesn't want to see its horrendous face before it kills her.
"Yolei"
"No!" she squirms under the grip keeping her still.
"No? Yol—"
"N-no!" she is half sobbing and so her screams are high pitched and broken. "Help! Ken!"
"Yolei, the neighbors will call the cops on us if you don't stop screaming"
She turns her head away, eyes still tightly shut and deaf to everything but her own screams and whimpers. She's so focused on her panic that she doesn't realize one of her arms has been freed and her chin is turned firmly in another direction before her screaming is muffled.
Her eyes pop open in shock and her lips recognize the familiar touch before her brain can process what is happening. Her free hand slaps half-heartedly at Ken for a second before curling around his shirt and pulling him to her, losing herself in the moment. He staggers a little, surprised by her reaction, and hastily places the processor he snatched from her hands on the table next to them before it slips from his grip. She deepens the kiss and he finds himself lacing his fingers through hers, slowly lowering the arm he had trapped above her head.
Several seconds pass before Yolei breaks apart and frowns at him. "You scared me to death! What are you doing here?" she accuses, giving him a push and slapping at his arm.
Ken stares at her, dumbfounded and trying to make sense of her reactions. "I was having some cereal. My stomach wouldn't settle and I didn't want to wake you. I'm sorry."
"You should have just—" she begins raising her voice but stops when she sees the battleground that is her kitchen. "Oh God, what did I do?"
He follows her gaze and winces at the ruined fruit and the shattered bowl. Suddenly he's tugged back to her and she's inspecting his face closely, too close.
"Are you okay? Did I hit you with the bowl?" she's squinting and he's glad she hasn't noticed the blush on his cheeks or the growing bump partly concealed under his bangs of hair.
"I'm fine. Your aim was a little off," he responds gently as she lets him go, sighing.
"Ken, I'm sorry, I couldn't… I couldn't find my glasses and I swear I saw you were still in bed when I got up that's why it never crossed my mind that it could be you."
"I think you might have seen the outline of the pillow and sheets."
She supposed that made sense and she looks away, feeling stupid. "I made such a mess."
He moves away from her and starts picking up the ruined fruit "I'm surprised we don't have any of your neighbors knocking at the door."
"Well, I suppose you cut my screaming short at just the right time" she bats her eyelashes at him, he might be slightly blurry from where she's sitting but she can absolutely see the way his body tenses. Would he ever stop being so self-conscious? "I didn't know that was your way of taking control of a situation." After a moment she adds "I like it."
He gives her a mortified look and clears his throat, resuming his cleaning "You know? fruit isn't very effective against a burglar" he says, changing the subject and disposing of the last ruined peach "If there's ever a break-in I'd rather you not try to confront them."
"That's not exactly—I didn't—" She puffs her cheeks and looks away muttering "I didn't think it was a burglar."
He stops in his tracks and turns to blink at her in confusion, after a couple of seconds his eyes widen slightly "You mentioned something demonic…"
"Well it was the first thing that—hey!"
He looks away, his shoulders shaking with mirth as he tries to suppress it.
She frowns at him, but finds it hard to feel upset at all. She enjoys watching him laugh, even when it's at her expense.
Her features soften and she stares at him with a silly smile until he finally stops and apologizes for laughing. She shakes her head, he's always too polite.
When he starts sweeping the shards of the shattered bowl she realizes she's just sitting there while he cleans her mess.
She reaches over to pick up one of the surviving apples "Seems this will be my midnight snack" she mutters and walks over to him, biting into the apple and helping him dispose of the mess.
Once they are done she grabs his hand and tugs it "Let's go to bed. And, oh, tomorrow breakfast will be on me," She kisses his cheek. "No buts. I'm really sorry."
He lets her pull him away and towards the bedroom, flicking off the light switch on their way out he decides to take the lead so she doesn't bump into anything or trips.
Her apartment falls silent again except for the creaking of the bed and rustling of sheets, after a while Ken's soft whisper is heard.
"Yolei… did you really think a demon was raiding your kitchen?"