Afterlife: Redemption

18

LANE

I hung my head with an exaggerated sigh, shaking it lightly as my hands clutched the edges of the box in front of me. I closed my eyes, trying desperately to block out the muttering from my companion. He wasn't being loud, or pushy, or temperamental; all of which were characteristics of his natural mood. But he was whispering under his breath, a long and endless string of profanities and complaining that hadn't seemed to cease in the last two days.

"Harry!" I finally yelled, causing him to jump, the book in his hand dropping to the floor.

"What!" he whined, looking around frantically.

"You're still muttering!"

"UGH!" he groaned, throwing his head back. "Lane, you scared the shit out of me! I thought something was wrong when you screeched at me like that!"

I narrowed my eyes, giving him a warning glare. "There is something wrong...you are driving me mental!"

Harry frowned, turning his attention back to the box in front of him, perched on the coffee table. Picking up another small stack of books, he tried to slide them inside methodically.

"I just hate packing," he complained again, and it was all I could do not to throw the pillow in my hands at his head.

We had started packing up the few items in his flat two days before, using the time available to us in the evenings when he would return home from work as our 'get it all done now' time. Unfortunately, that time was usually cut short because I could only take so much of his constant complaining and whining about how much he hated packing. His voice would remain low, a constant, gentle hum, almost like a white noise. Or a mosquito that you could hear clear as day, but couldn't seem to find and squish.

He was constantly muttering under his breath, going through his apartment, looking for things, picking out what was his, and what belonged to the flat owner. Going through the things he had purchased since arriving, deciding what to bring back to New York, and what to leave. Most people would have this conversation with themselves internally, keeping up a steady stream of dialogue in their minds as they made these decisions. But it would appear, Harry was incapable of that. All these little statements had been voice aloud, in his deep, sexy, smooth but increasingly annoying drawl.

The majority of the living space was packed up, with just his books and the few things he would need between now and Saturday left out. The books were being packed away at present, his current focus of annoyance. The bedroom had been organized, his clothing packed into his suitcase again with the exception of his remaining needs. We were trying to organize all the items that he planned to ship home tonight, so I could take them to the post tomorrow. It didn't seem like much, since his apartment had come furnished, and complete with all necessary items with the exception of those individually preferred. But it was still taking us much longer than I figured, since Harry spent more time complaining and procrastinating than actually packing.

"Harry, please, just pack the rest of these, and I will pack up the bedroom, and we're done." I begged, setting the last of the items for my box inside, and taping it closed.

His eyes turned to me, a devilish smirk on his lips. "Or, we could both do the bedroom together...since we work so well in there with each other any other time."

I groaned, rolling my eyes dramatically. "No. You stay here, finish!" I demanded, pointing to the small stack of books left on the floor. "I will finish with the bedroom. And don't you dare come in there and bother me."

Harry frowned, turning his attention back to his task. As I left the living room, I could hear him muttering to himself about 'a girlfriend who doesn't appreciate his sexual prowess'.