Despair In The Apartment Lounge

60| we're shouting and shagging

Song title from:
Too much to ask

Talaska's POV

By the time we'd arrived at the house and scurried in, both of us were already soaking wet, drenching the dark wood floorboards beneath our feet. His hands -that I often tease are abnormally large for his body which makes him laugh every time- slides down his face to remove some droplets of water casted upon us from the heavy rain outside.

Then, very swiftly he slicked his hair back and kicked his wet boots off, bending down and pulling mine off as well as though I was entirely unable to do it myself.

Standing up, he nods to the rest of the house in a way to say 'lets go in', and pulls my hand as he leads us farther into his home. His house, he likes to correct me.

The large house was shaped as a rectangle, with the front door located right in the middle of its length and the glass doors leading to the backyard, opposing it. Upon entering you could immediately get a sense of the houses layout and where the rooms were located (doors along the hall on the right end of the house), with the kitchen and dining area on the far left, a living room lying in between.

All his brand new furniture was still here, but soon it'd be bid away.

From the moment Alex was told by the realtor that a serious buyer had finally settled on a negotiated price, and that the last step of having this dwelling out of his hands was his signature on the Title and Close escrow -I could see a surge of relief on his face as he talked into the phone, beaming and pumping his hands in the air.

But afterwards, when he had thought I wasn't looking, I could see the glint of gloom and disappointment in those eyes. No matter how hard he tried to convince me (and maybe himself) that it wasn't there.

Which is why I think he's acting the way he is at the moment; rather sentimental and serving towards me -that under normal circumstances he wouldn't be this way.

It's a stretch, but I think that he's clinging onto something (something meaning me in this case) that he finds familiar, and close, and can be of comfort to him.

Because he'd said himself several times in the past, that this house wasn't his home -that it was merely a place with walls and items that he had once planned to make into a home, thinking he'd own and share it forever with a specific individual.

The house he'd planned to spend his entire life in and with; was now a carcass of his and Louise's failure in matrimony.

The coldness of his hand in mine is no longer once we reach the living room, dropping our hands to our sides as we look around to search for any sign of the realtor, whom had agreed to meet us here. But nothing hinted another current attendance in the house besides us.

Alex pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his right pants pocket and did that little unchanging routine of lighting it, ending the sequence with a grin. There's a funny feeling I get but I brushed it aside.

Something caught his attention on the coffee table then, and he leaned down to pick it up before chuckling to himself.

"That sneaky bloke." He mumbled with a funny laugh, I'm guessing he was referring to the realtor. "Fuckin' left the papers for me to sign and took off."

I peered over his shoulder to peek at the papers he was holding.

"Your fault. We're like an hour late, of course he didn't wait all day for us."

Turning his head to me with a cigarette in his lips, he gave a crooked smile and let very little smoke seep out of it.

"Nu-uh, your fault. You distracted me. And you took forever to finish."