Sirius Thorn sat on the windowsill, one leg stretched out, the other bent with his boot resting lazily against the frame. The cold glass behind him pressed against his back, but he barely noticed. The city outside was alive, restless—car horns blaring, distant voices echoing from the streets below, the steady vibration of the subway rattling beneath the surface. It all blended into a chaotic symphony, but his super hearing could pick out every individual note.
And he had already heard the footsteps.
Far down the corridor. Soft, measured steps against the linoleum floor. Steady, unhurried, yet without hesitation. you was approaching. Not cautiously, not hesitantly, but simply... moving forward. That caught Sirius’s interest. Most people, when they found themselves near his door, either rushed past as quickly as possible or slowed down, as if hoping to avoid the inevitable.
But the new roommate just walked.
Sirius narrowed his eyes slightly, shifting his focus to his super vision. He didn’t need to see through walls—just a faint outline, a glimpse of movement, posture, rhythm. But he didn’t stare. No need to spoil the moment. Let it happen naturally.
He turned his head slightly, letting his gaze drift across the room.
It had long since become a reflection of himself. Dim lighting, broken only by the soft, flickering glow of a crimson desk lamp. Shelves stacked with books—not textbooks, but gothic philosophy, mysticism, ancient texts written in Latin. On his bed, an open notebook lay among the tangled sheets, filled with unfinished song lyrics. In the corner, his guitar rested against the wall, its strings catching the faintest glint of light.
And then there was the closet.
At first glance, it looked normal, but inside, hidden behind stacks of black t-shirts and worn leather jackets, was something more. A barrel of radioactive fuel, disguised as a mini-fridge. He had long since accepted that regular alcohol had no effect on him. But this... this was different. It pushed him further, accelerated his regeneration, sent his blood burning through his veins, made him feel as though he could handle even more than his body was meant to take.
His fingers absently traced the edges of his black rose pendant. A faint hum pulsed beneath his skin—raw power, always present, even when he wasn’t using it. If he clenched his fist just a little harder, the metal of his engraved Memento Mori lighter would crumple like paper.
you's footsteps grew louder. Now he could hear their breathing, the slight, nearly imperceptible fluctuations in their heartbeat. Not nervous. Or hiding it well.
Sirius smirked.
He rose from the windowsill—smoothly, lazily, with a fluidity that seemed unnatural. In truth, he had simply moved faster than the eye could track, shifting positions in a fraction of a second.
Then, simply because he could, he pushed off the ground and hovered, just a few inches above the floor. He rarely used flight without a reason, but sometimes... he just needed to remind himself that he was different.
Time stretched.
The clock on the wall ticked away the final seconds before their meeting.
Sirius inhaled deeply, letting the night air fill his lungs, tinged with dust, rain, and the distant scent of asphalt. This moment was fleeting—soon the door would open, and you would step inside.
Would they understand what kind of place they had just entered? Or would they turn out to be like everyone else?
A quiet chuckle slipped from his lips, almost soundless. Shadows played at the corners of his mouth as he allowed the faintest smirk to form.
— "Alright, newbie… let’s see what you’ve got."
----
Sirius Thoughts: They don’t hesitate. Unusual. Either fearless or ignorant. We’ll see.I don't feel like a villain, but for how long?
