As of late, Thomas had been preoccupied.
Innocently enough, for once, but distracted all the same. The life that he had been leading, undisturbed and quiet, for the better part of two decades, and quietly but intrusively begun to change. Minor deviations from the norm had begun to pile up, warping his carefully manicured world into something different; a unique monster that wasn’t entirely unwelcome. He had made friends, and brought them into his home, he had shared himself, intimate parts of who he was ( and who he was pretending to be ) and who he wanted to be without the regret he had thought would come of it.
He was changing, essentially, everything he had clung to for so long. It was as invigorating as it was terrifying. So, yes, preoccupied was what he had become.
The knock on the door broken the unconscious spell of quiet he had been losing himself in, and after a few dragging seconds of fixedly staring at the door, Thomas finally stood and made his way over.
Who he found delighted him.
”Kristopher. What a surprise.” Thomas reached forward to shake the young man’s hand, while his other touched on his elbow; a warm, welcoming touch. “Please come in, come in. I’ll get your coat.”
There were, very simply, some parts of Thomas’ life that he didn’t need to fake. Some things weren’t an ode to the first man he killed, some were still a part of who had been for the first twenty-one years of his life. And as they were few and far between, Thomas was sure to grapple and squeeze them when they arrived. Kristopher was a prime example of that. The two shared more interests than Thomas could believe, and if he put his mind to it, he wouldn’t be surprised to find Kristopher was much like himself, all those years ago. They fit together in a such a peculiar way that seemed so strikingly normal that Thomas could do nothing but delight in his presence.
"Thank-you, sir" Kristopher said, shrugging his shoulders free from his jacket and easing it off. "I brought my paper."
He waggled the essay in his hand, sending the paperclip to the floor, unnoticed by Kristopher. "Only two days late this time. Much better, right?"
As the older man took his coat, Kristopher stepped further inside the lavish apartment. It was modern in it's design, though minimal, and not exactly spectacular in it's decor, it had a personal feel. It was obvious Thomas was a man of particular interests, books (mostly poetry) were here and there, on bookshelves or left on counter tops and coffee tables. Another, perhaps more noticeable accent of Thomas' home, was the flowers. There were always plenty, and they all seemed to be in perfect condition. The smell, at first, always gave Kristopher a headache, but after a few minutes inside the apartment, he was used to their powerful scent. Even if he had been unable to ignore the floral aromas, an overwhelming sense of confidence engulfed Kristopher's being when he was in Thomas' presence; not that he was short of his own sense of self-worth, but the professor enhanced this feeling to grandiose levels. Probably more disconcerting was the strange and eerie blankness that Kristopher felt when his mind was alert enough to focus. It was a feeling that he hadn't felt before meeting Thomas (and still only felt it in Thomas' company), and it was immense in it's heaviness-- for that reason he never tended to dwell on it.
"This one's good too, I think I improved my writing."
