ALEXANDER
"What's wrong?" I asked Chris, running my fingers through his hair. He grunted, giving me a narrow look before returning back to sighing.
I frowned, quite frustrated by it. I'd already searched every single inch of the room for something — anything out of place, but there was none. The books on my table were arranged how Chris liked them; the biggest at the bottom to the smallest on top. My closet doors were closed, and every other thing was arranged either according to function, size, or relevance.
"If there's anything that's out of place, you could just point it out," I said, running my thumb across his creased brows.
"Something's wrong, but not that. That is fine," he said, closing his eyes.
"What's wrong then?" I asked, feeling a bit frustrated. Chris was usually straigh
