Page 3 of Knox
Was he going insane or had a Knox-cosplayer just crashed through his skylight?
Adrian blinked, his mind rebelling against the sheer absurdity of the situation. The man groaned, a low, guttural sound. He shifted, one arm reaching up to brush hair out of his eyes. Adrian’s breath hitched. Cosplayer or not, the man was breathtaking.
"Okay," Adrian whispered to himself, backing away from the shattered skylight, careful to avoid the shards of glass scattered across the floor. "This is not happening. This is a stress dream. A very vivid, very detailed, very unrealistic stress dream."
The man who looked like Knox rolled onto his side, his gaze sweeping across the room, finally landing on Adrian. His eyes, the color of storm clouds lit by lightning, widened in a mix of confusion and something that looked like panic.
"Where…?" He coughed again, his voice rough. "Where am I?"
Adrian’s brain, still stuck in denial mode, supplied the most obvious answer. "You’re in my bedroom."
The man blinked, his brow furrowing as if he couldn’t comprehend the words. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, wincing as he clutched at his side. His gaze darted around the room, taking in the posters, the scattered books, the glow-in-the-dark stars Adrian had stuck to his ceiling when he was twelve and had never bothered to remove.
"This isn’t…," the man shook his head. "This can’t be…"
He trailed off, his eyes widening as they landed on the largest poster on Adrian’s wall – an image of Knox, half-naked, shadows swirling around him, his gaze seductive.
"That’s…me," he whispered, unbelieving.
Adrian’s world crumbled around him. This was insane. Utterly insane.
Had he fallen asleep while reading?
He took a shaky step back, his mind scrambling for a rational explanation.
"No," he said, his voice cracking. "No, it’s not. That’s… that’s a character from a book. A webnovel. You’re… you’re cosplaying, right?"
The man’s gaze shifted back to Adrian, and in those storm-cloud eyes, Adrian saw a flicker of something primal, something ancient and wild, that sent a shiver down his spine.
"Cosplay?" he repeated, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. "What is…cosplay?"
Before Adrian could even attempt a response, Evelyn’s voice cut through the tense silence.
"Adrian, dear! What on earth was that crash? Are you alright?"
Adrian grandmother bustled into the room, wearing a floral-print bathrobe, a knitting needle clutched in one hand like a weapon. Her gaze darted around the room, landing on the shattered skylight, the rain pouring in, and finally, on the man sitting on the floor amidst the debris.
"Good heavens!" Evelyn exclaimed. "Did that young man fall out of the sky?"
The man on the floor, his attention now diverted to Evelyn, stared at her with a bewildered expression.
"I…," he began, then shook his head, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I do not understand. Where is this place?"
Adrian, still grappling with the impossible reality before him, stammered out, "Grandma, this is… well, I’m not entirely sure who this is yet."
Evelyn, never one to be deterred by a little mystery, fixed Adrian with a stern look. "Well, stop gawking and help the poor boy up. He’s probably freezing and concussed."
She marched over to the man, peering down at him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "There you go, dear," she said, offering him a hand. "Let’s get you off that cold floor."
The man hesitated, his gaze flickering between Evelyn’s outstretched hand and the knitting needle she still held in her other hand. "I… I am not certain. This realm… it is unfamiliar to me. I cannot access my…"
He trailed off, his hand going to his head as if a sudden pain had pierced him.
Evelyn, mistaking his hesitation for pain, clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Adrian, are you just going to stand there? He needs help, not an audience!"
Adrian, chastised, moved cautiously toward the stranger, acutely aware of the man’s intense gaze following his every move. He extended a hand, unsure if the man would take it.
"Here," he said, his voice hesitant. "Let me?—"
