The door opened slowly, only the few inches permitted by the small chain bolt that was still in place. Through the gap between frame and door, Drew would see one of Zeph's bright blue eyes peering out. It focused on Drew and the barest of smile traced what was visible of his full lips. The door closed again, and there was some fumbling of locks before he finally pulled the door open.
The nymph did not look his best. He was clad in a pair of pajama pants patterned with marijuana leaves and a plain white t-shirt that was creased in a way that suggested it was being worn fresh out of a Hanes three-pack. He shuffled back to admit Drew, then moved back to the door himself to lock, dead bolt, and chain bolt it once more.
The apartment was a genuine mess now. There were boxes and plastic wrappers from frozen meals littering the counter, and a few containers from said meals rested on various surfaces around the room, including two on the nightstand near his bed. The blankets on his bed were formed up into a large ball, suggesting that Zeph had been nesting there recently. Clothes were strewn about, mostly in the bedroom, but there were also some draped off the arms of the couch or balled on the floor in front of it. The television screen was paused on what looked to be an episode of the Voltron reboot.
The moment he'd locked the door, he was clinging to Drew, burying his face in the man's chest. His hair was a bit damp, and Drew would likely detect that he had recently brushed his teeth. He didn't produce much in the way of facial hair, but there was some downy stubble along his jawline and throat. Drew might get the impression, augmented by the state of the place, that it was probably the first time Zeph had seen to any kind of grooming in a while.
He didn't say anything, he just hugged. Held on for dear life, really. His arms wrapped around the small of Drew's back, and his grip was surprisingly fierce.
He hadn't left the apartment since his return from Venture the night before, and he hadn't gotten much sleep since - just fitful hours snatched here and there. He'd been afraid to talk to anyone. He wanted to, but the only people he knew who wouldn't think he was crazy were his parents and Rodrigo. The latter had texted him a half dozen times, but the messages were left on read. The former, well, they would believe him, certainly, but if he told them what had actually happened he would have been on the next flight back to Colorado. He had considered it. Charon's ancient presence and malformed features had figured heavily into the furtive dreams that had intruded on his attempts to rest, and the prospect of returning to Venture terrified him.
Frankly, the thought of going outside terrified him. Between his experiences at the vampire club and the altercation on the way home from the bar last Thursday, Zeph's rose-colored glasses had been cracked.
"Th-thanks for coming," he finally mumbled into Drew's tank top. "It's um, kind of a mess."