City of Blood [boyxboy]

Chapter Eleven

Hey guys!

Look, look! I'm only a few days behind a month between updates! *cringes*

This one is a little bit shorter, but I promise promise promise I'll update quicker. If it looks like I'm falling behind, please do not hesitate to remind me in my private messages or the comments. <3

I hope you all had an awesome two weeks of holidays off! I sure did. I discovered something called a Plot Board. Coolest. Things. Ever. It's the EASIEST way to plot my stories and I love it. If you write, you should definitely check 'em out. 10/10 would recommend!!!!

Don't have much to say other than that... So enjoy!

Cosmos ~

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His house is amazing.

Everything is themed in warm, homey colours, like coppers and light browns and such. It's a very open, modern house, with lovely and very inviting furniture - reminds me of a lake house, or a cottage you'd find in the forest. 

"Nice house." I fire before my brain gets a chance to screw it up.

"Thank you. You can leave your shoes there. You may look around; I'm going to clean up." He pushes the door shut with his elbow, and strides past me and around the corner. The click of a door follows a second after, and then running water. I slip my shoes off with caution not to get any mud on the rug, and I begin my slow, silent expedition of the house. It's as though I'm afraid to wake some beast, tiptoeing like this.
Perhaps, in a way, that might actually be true.

He's got a kitchen, living room, a sitting room, an office, and what I think was supposed to be a dining room on this floor, but has instead been turned into a pool table room. Everything is placed perfectly around the house, and not a speck of dust or dirt is to be seen. The faint aroma of cinnamon wafts through the air. I can hear a recording of a violin track upstairs.

"Shall we be heading upstairs?"

I jump at the sudden intrusion of sound. I hadn't heard him approach at all.

"Y-yes, whatever you want to do. Lead the way." I swallow harshly on my dry throat, and we beeline to and up the stairs, the music growing ever gradually. The second floor uses the same colours as the first, though this floor smells like lavender. The open door up ahead on my left seems to be where the music is emitting from, where I would've thought his room would be, but he doesn't stop. I look inside a split second after, and the sight of a little pure white-haired boy with a violin to his chin makes my mouth drop.

"Who's that, Hunter?" I dare ask. His back is facing the door, and behind his shaggy mop of white his hands move at top speed on the instrument, creating a piece only a master of his seventies would be capable of playing if he practiced for fifty years. He's dressed very smartly, as though he just stepped out of a sixties family at some formal event. His walls are covered with pages and pages of writing and diagrams, and his desk of a PlayStation in pieces.

"My brother, Scott. I didn't think to mention him earlier. He does not attend school because he's surpassed all elementary grades and there isn't a high school that will accept him." Hunter rounds the corner and I follow, taking a few more steps to the end of the hallway where a door awaits us. I can't help but think about Em.

"This is my room." He pushes the door, and an immediate warmth sucks me up in its tendrils. Not only is it warmer in here, but it's got to be the biggest bedroom in this house — a king sized bed, an armoire, a dresser, two bedside tables, a desk, and a grand piano — all themed in the same warm shades of umbers and ochres and siennas as the rest of the house.