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Dante

Dante

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So... I had started the day with a minimum objective of getting a bed.

And I'm using the word minimum lightly here.

A bed was really the only thing on my list at the moment.

Somehow, I was ending the day by creating a supply list for Sammy.

He said he would handle getting the materials I would need to start fixing his roof. You could imagine my surprise when he led me up to another level of the gym which randomly opened up to an entire apartment.

I had tried so hard not to stare, but the interior of the flat was something... unexpected? Most of the walls were exposed brick, like the gym space downstairs. One wall held five expensive looking guitars that made me question whether Sammy actually played them, or just collected them. His tv stand was actually a bookshelf flipped on its side, and filled with countless trophies. And I meant filled.

There were some trophies around the bookshelf stands that couldn't fit inside.

I wanted to take a better look at them, but I was sure Sammy had brought me here for one thing and one thing only.

I didn't want to waste any more of his time.

Sammy didn't seem the most keen on me getting up onto the beams, as opposed to just using the flashlight. I tried to explain to him that it would benefit his wallet if I could see how much of the wood needed to be replaced. Nevertheless I gave myself my own heart attack when Grayson appeared out of thin air, and I almost lost my footing. His ceiling was up there up there.

The thought of our conversation afterward, also came flooding back to me... more specifically the part when I mentioned my father.

He wasn't someone I brought up often. He wasn't someone I really brought up at all anymore. I couldn't understand why I had felt so comfortable just saying those things in front of Sammy- someone I had literally just met.

It was some weird twisted fuckery- running away from a previous life only to have memories surround you in your new one. Just being in Fight Club was starting to unearth the anxiety and pain I thought I had dug and buried deep enough.

I knew I needed to stay away from that place the first time I entered it to deliver lunch.

So what was it about Fight Club that made me lose every shred of common sense? Or more specifically, what was it about Sammy?

Maybe it was those eyes? Or the messiness perfection of his hair whenever he pulled it back. The smile lines when he cracked a grin... It had to have been something, because making it home today with no furniture let alone a bed was not part of the plan today.

I sighed to myself, as I plopped down on the sleeping bag in my bedroom...

If you could even call it that.

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