Chapter 3: The Surprising Turn

The lift doors slid closed behind me, the gentle hum of the machinery filling the momentary quiet. The picture of him stayed with me; his messy look, his sharp blue eyes, and the subdued melancholy that enveloped him like a blanket. Quite strange. He was just another visitor, another drunk carrying a hotel key, but there had been something about him that stayed with me.

Shaking my head, I tried to concentrate. After hours, the hotel lobby stood as it usually did. Mostly retreated to their rooms, the guests were leaving the night empty and lifeless as the crew was flowing out. Just as I arrived at the staff entrance, I heard someone stumble.

Hey, are you alright? I called and turned to see the guy from the bar once again. Leaning hard against the wall, he was using his hand to find equilibrium in the corridor. Though closed, he swayed like a tree about to break in a storm.

He blinked, his brows wrinkling in perplexity as he gradually turned to face me. "You again," he murmured, his voice raspy from too much drink. " What are you doing here?"

I groaned. "I was almost ready to go, but it seems like you may need some assistance returning to your room."

He shook his head, the words coming out sluggish and slurred, then paused to evaluate me, that same odd glance flitting in his eyes. " I'll be good."

"No, you won't," I said, moving forward before he could object. "You scarcely get up, and I'm very sure your room isn't even on this level." I stopped to look for any indication of opposition, but he just exhaled a long, worn-out breath.

His lips curved into a slow grin. You do not give up, do you?

I responded dryly, already reaching out to assist him, "Not when I must make sure inebriated visitors don't pass out in the corridor." Though he weighed more than I had expected, his body felt firm against mine.

He groaned, hardly recognising the movement, then let me lead him once again. Under his breath, he said, "You know, I didn't believe anybody would come to save me." I nearly missed his soothing words, but the quiet admission stopped me. Was that a minor flaw I recently noticed?

I turned aside the rising curiosity chewing at me. Still a visitor, he was nothing more or less.

"Where in your room?" As we headed back to the elevator once again, I steadied him.

"Room?" he said, blinking at me once again, as the notion of a room seemed alien. He wrinkled at the card key in his fingers. "I... I don't recall. Fourth level, I suppose.

I pushed the lift button, then looked at him to see how he was doing. His chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, he was slung heavily against the wall, eyes closed in tiredness. I pondered briefly what had drawn him to this place. He seemed not the kind to become wasted and lose control, but here he was.

"Maybe you could sit down," I said, speaking softly as the lift came.

He said nothing. He only nodded once, hardly recognising me, as if sitting down in a moving box seemed the most reasonable thing in the world. We both started inside as the doors slid open. I tapped the fourth-floor button.

Though I maintained my distance, the air between us was tense; the space seemed weighty with every second that went by. I could sense it in the way his eyes would periodically sweep across to mine. His eyes were focused, shockingly so given his situation.

"You know," he began abruptly, shattering the quiet, "I've visited a lot of hotels. However, this one..." He trailed off, peering up at the gleaming lift inside. "It is unique. Goodly. Calm.

Not knowing how to answer, I nodded. Having worked here for several years, the hotel seemed to me as just another structure—a job. I hardly gave its appeal any attention. Still, listening to him talk about it stopped me. Perhaps he picked something I missed.

"Yeah," I responded gently, "it has that refined, calm energy. Though it's a favourite with business folks as well.

His lips quitched, but he didn't react straight away. Rather, he appeared to bury himself in contemplation for a little while before the fourth-floor lift doors dinged open.

We left together, and I could feel his weight gently pushing into me. More now, he was leaning on me, the drink having effects. I ought to have advised him to go to his room by himself, but something about him drew me back.

"Here we are," I murmured, palm strong on his arm as I led him down the corridor.

He swung once again, this time slightly away, but his balance was wrong. He said, "I don't need anybody leading me to my room," but the words lacked the punch they had possessed.

"Well," I said, "think of it as a favour. I'm not letting you wander this land like a confused visitor.

At last, his keen, glinting eyes locked completely with me. Behind them, there was a flutter of something profound and almost shocking. His jaw tightened slightly as if he was considering something before adding, "You're different."

My eyebrows creased. " Various?" In what ways?

He shrugged, even though the action looked much too intentional for someone so intoxicated. By now most people would have abandoned me. But you remained, nonetheless. He stopped, his voice low yet strangely strong. "That's uncommon."

I knew not what to say. Was he making compliments on me? Alternatively, was he simply running about?

We came to a halt just at his door. I studied the number on the sign. "This Your Room?" I inquired, pointing to the door.

Confused, he glanced at it and then nodded slowly. Definitely. This one. He snatched the keycard straight out of his pocket. Still in the corridor, he pulled the door open with a gentle whoosh.

"Thanks," he whispered once more, his voice gentle but real, then he staggered inside and stopped momentarily to look back at me.

Uncertain of whether to go or wait for him to completely enter, I stood there. But I turned to go when he gave me a little, exhausted nod.

I whispered gently, "Take care of yourself," then turned away before I could second-guess myself.

I hadn't anticipated any of it—the meeting, the way his eyes lingered, the minute change in the air. One thing was very evident, however. The guy I had just assisted, Andrew Robinson, was not your typical visitor. And whether I wanted to own it or not, something about him had set something inside of me ablaze.