HOME | DD

Description
She slipped off the counter; one foot, then the other, and half bounced to her room. A song had been playing on the stereo and she really wanted to hear it. Her blonde hair danced a bit as she bobbed her head to the music, her peach colored lips lazily mouthing the words as she made her way to the other side of the house. She didn't really know all of the words to the song, but she didn't really care. Her eyes darted to the door. It sounded for a moment as if someone were there.
The walls of her apartment were cluttered with photos and shelves decorated in things she'd found or bargained for. Instruments; pictures of strangers; articles of clothing she'd never wear; haphazard and strewn about the floor without rhyme or reason. And despite it's unorganized state, that seemingly looked like nothing would ever be found again and had little to no hope of being recovered from the wreckage, she knew exactly where everything was.
She turned the volume up and padded back through the door, listening closely to the song behind her as she moved further from it's hum, as it quietly threatened to melt into the background.

"Ooh, good song," came a voice from beside her.

"Sure is," she nodded, unflinching at his sudden appearance. "Also, stop breaking into my house," she added as she continued through her home into the kitchen.

"You're forgetting that I used to live here."
"Used to being key. Even still, I asked you if you wanted a key, so why do you insist on breaking in?"
"It makes me feel stealthy. And I know I can do it here safely without worrying about getting shot for breaking and entering. You at least expect me to be weird."

She poured a cup of tea and strolled over to the couch, keeping her face from ever truly looking at him. She twirled the string around her finger, dragging the bag lazily through the steamy water.
"I see. You are a strange one, aren't you?"
"You know it. Is there hot water left?"
"Move right the fuck in, please, by all means. What's mine is yours."
"You always know what to say to make me feel super welcome," he gestured with his off hand, the other stuck in his pocket, then pivoted on his heels and strode into the kitchen to grab himself a cup.

"I was trying to have quiet tea time. You always ruin it. Every single time."

She crossed her legs and straightened her back, taking a long sip, her eyes shut tight; almost as if she was wishing he'd just go away.

"Look, I love you, but you're pissing me off," she barked into her cup.
"What?"
"You don't understand the importance of me-time."
"I want to be with you."
"I know, and it's super endearing, but I want to be with me too. Alone with me. Just me n' me, babeh. Y'know?"
"No."
He sat down on the couch beside her and stared at her. She stared pointedly back.
"Can I just sit here, then? Let you do what you would've done and just be here?"
"Nope, because then I wouldn't be having me-time, I'd be having monitored me-time which.... really, do you really not hear yourself right now?"
"I don't."
"Okay, you can stay. Just don't say anything. Don't make a noise. And don't touch me."
"I won't."
"Okay good."
"Good."
"I'm glad you understand."
"I totally do."
"You're still talking."

He smiled and turned his face down into his mug. She pulled her knees up and continued sipping her tea, grabbing for her book to the left of the sofa, off an old cabinet stressed and stained to look even older. She flipped it open and softly read the passages to herself. He watched her eyes scan left to right, left to right, her peachy lips mumbling every single word from the pages. Her fingertips gently grazed the paper as she lifted her hand a bit, reaching for the corner of the next page. He counted backwards in his head, trying to predict when she was going to reach the last word and turn it.

Her eyes flipped up from the novel.
"I can literally feel you staring at me."
"I'm sorry."
"Shhhh," she smirked, putting her finger to her lips, returning her eyes to the words below.

He adjusted himself in the chair and smiled, returning to his cup of tea.

Description
She slipped off the counter; one foot, then the other, and half bounced to her room. A song had been playing on the stereo and she really wanted to hear it. Her blonde hair danced a bit as she bobbed her head to the music, her peach colored lips lazily mouthing the words as she made her way to the other side of the house. She didn't really know all of the words to the song, but she didn't really care. Her eyes darted to the door. It sounded for a moment as if someone were there.
The walls of her apartment were cluttered with photos and shelves decorated in things she'd found or bargained for. Instruments; pictures of strangers; articles of clothing she'd never wear; haphazard and strewn about the floor without rhyme or reason. And despite it's unorganized state, that seemingly looked like nothing would ever be found again and had little to no hope of being recovered from the wreckage, she knew exactly where everything was.
She turned the volume up and padded back through the door, listening closely to the song behind her as she moved further from it's hum, as it quietly threatened to melt into the background.

"Ooh, good song," came a voice from beside her.

"Sure is," she nodded, unflinching at his sudden appearance. "Also, stop breaking into my house," she added as she continued through her home into the kitchen.

"You're forgetting that I used to live here."
"Used to being key. Even still, I asked you if you wanted a key, so why do you insist on breaking in?"
"It makes me feel stealthy. And I know I can do it here safely without worrying about getting shot for breaking and entering. You at least expect me to be weird."

She poured a cup of tea and strolled over to the couch, keeping her face from ever truly looking at him. She twirled the string around her finger, dragging the bag lazily through the steamy water.
"I see. You are a strange one, aren't you?"
"You know it. Is there hot water left?"
"Move right the fuck in, please, by all means. What's mine is yours."
"You always know what to say to make me feel super welcome," he gestured with his off hand, the other stuck in his pocket, then pivoted on his heels and strode into the kitchen to grab himself a cup.

"I was trying to have quiet tea time. You always ruin it. Every single time."

She crossed her legs and straightened her back, taking a long sip, her eyes shut tight; almost as if she was wishing he'd just go away.

"Look, I love you, but you're pissing me off," she barked into her cup.
"What?"
"You don't understand the importance of me-time."
"I want to be with you."
"I know, and it's super endearing, but I want to be with me too. Alone with me. Just me n' me, babeh. Y'know?"
"No."
He sat down on the couch beside her and stared at her. She stared pointedly back.
"Can I just sit here, then? Let you do what you would've done and just be here?"
"Nope, because then I wouldn't be having me-time, I'd be having monitored me-time which.... really, do you really not hear yourself right now?"
"I don't."
"Okay, you can stay. Just don't say anything. Don't make a noise. And don't touch me."
"I won't."
"Okay good."
"Good."
"I'm glad you understand."
"I totally do."
"You're still talking."

He smiled and turned his face down into his mug. She pulled her knees up and continued sipping her tea, grabbing for her book to the left of the sofa, off an old cabinet stressed and stained to look even older. She flipped it open and softly read the passages to herself. He watched her eyes scan left to right, left to right, her peachy lips mumbling every single word from the pages. Her fingertips gently grazed the paper as she lifted her hand a bit, reaching for the corner of the next page. He counted backwards in his head, trying to predict when she was going to reach the last word and turn it.

Her eyes flipped up from the novel.
"I can literally feel you staring at me."
"I'm sorry."
"Shhhh," she smirked, putting her finger to her lips, returning her eyes to the words below.

He adjusted himself in the chair and smiled, returning to his cup of tea.