28 dec | 15:47 | hiran’s flat
@h-godrej
Clark hated public transport even more than he hated driving, and god did he hate driving. The only reason he kept the car at all was convenience – the thought of being stuck terrified him. What if he was needed? What if something happened to Giya, or Odessa, or Hiran? Ordinarily, he would walk. If he’d had the time, he would walk everywhere. He loved the feeling, of being able to stretch his stiff and aching limbs, of having the wind blow the cobwebs away. He stepped inside with slightly stinging eyes, blinking, but feeling much better for it. Today, though, he didn’t have that option. Any more than a few minutes on his feet, and his knee would begin to throb. It was deeply irritating, especially for a man so determined not to rely on anything or anyone besides himself. He had managed to find a cane, hidden in the back of his cupboard, from his acting days, which helped, but not so much as he would like.
So Clark drove for the first time in a week or two, barely paying any attention to what he was doing. The route and the actions, they were just second nature. He pulled up beside Hiran’s flat, and pressed the buzzer. He’d texted on the way over to say he was coming, but he hadn’t checked his phone since, so didn’t know if Hiran had responded. He didn’t care too much either way. Either he would take the boy by surprise or he wouldn’t.
He’d just come from Giya. Resting, now, but thankfully okay. It had been relieving, almost cathartic, to see her again, and now he was gone, he felt her absence like a hole in his chest. Whilst he was away from her, he worried about her; whilst he was with her, he worried about getting found out. It was exhausting. He checked his watch. Nearly four. Hiran should be in, surely. It was only as he was starting to worry that he was out that the door opened for him. Finally, he thought to himself as he made his way inside and to the lift. Stairs were a killer when he was hurt like this.
When Hiran let him in, Clark almost flashed him a smile, but decided no smile was better than a falsified one, here.
“Afternoon,” he greeted levelly. “Hope I’m not bothering you.”