chapter one
-x-
jerome ;
It's the typical dingy day in London. The streets are full of people, and the people never stop talking. It's hard to push through them, and I know I'm going to end up late to work again.
The bakery is a few blocks away, and my head turns to examine my watch. It's already 10:18 a.m., so I am currently 18 minutes late. Muttering a few unpleasant words under my breath, I try to get through the crowd of people.
It's interesting, though, the variety of people that you'll see. There's a lady with a big hat walking her dog. There's an emo kid with a frown on his pierced lips. There's a tourist taking a picture of every single shop on the road. There's that typical businessman with a sour look on his face.
You'll find any type of person in London. And that's what I love about the place. Well, that's probably the only thing I love about the place. The weather is awful and there are so many people holding a video camera in front of their face while they talk to themselves.
I finally enter the bakery after what seems like forever and give a sheepish grin to the woman behind the counter with an angry look on her face. "Hey, Maria." My voice is uneasy and her scowl deepens.
"20 minutes, Jerome. Twenty freaking minutes! Have you a clue how busy this place gets?"
I glance around, but I see no people in the building. "No," I answer honestly, but I know Maria is going to take it with attitude.
"Get out of my bakery, Jerome," she demands through gritted teeth, her face bright red.
"But I'm here to work, ma'am."
"I don't care! You haven't been here to work on time in the past week!"
"As I said before, I'm here now. Miss, you don't have that many other employees, I might point out."
"You might but you're incorrect. I had 8 people apply for the new opening."
"But there isn't a new opening. You only let 10 people work here."
"Well, now only 9 work here." She handed me a pink slip with a smirk on her face. "If you didn't get the memo a few sentences ago, you're fired."
My jaw dropped. I didn't get the memo, but I desperately needed this job. "N-no, ma'am, you don't understand. I--"
"I understand that you have the inability to show up for your job on time."
"But I need this job! I'm already three weeks behind on my rent, I'm gonna get kicked out and I needed the next payday!"
"I'm terribly sorry about your troubles, but by you not showing up on time you're going to stick me in the same situation. Make this easier for both of us and just leave."
I opened my mouth to say something but I jammed it shut in anger and spun around on my heel to storm out. I pushed open the door forcefully and slammed it shut. And then, just with my luck, it started to pour thick, cold rain.
-x-
I pulled open the door of my flat and immediately started to strip of my soaking wet clothing. I ran for ten straight minutes in the pouring rain to get to my house. And what made it worse is that it seemed like everybody in London had an umbrella.
I could've called for a taxi, but I don't have the money to pay for it. And I most certainly am not going to get in money soon.
My black boxers, which somehow were wet too, was the only thing that I was wearing at the moment. I gave a sigh, picking up my wet clothes and bringing them over to the basket. I'd go to the laundromat when the rain cleared up.
Unfortunately, I had no clean clothes, so I had to settle on red pajama bottoms that had a soup stain on the front of them and a black shirt that smelled surprisingly okay considering the fact that I had worn it for three straight days in a row.
I ran a hand through my wet hair, trying to fix it so it wouldn't frizz up, which I knew it would end up doing anyway. I gave a sigh before landing onto my couch, which had rock hard cushions, and slumping into it.
My life honestly sucked. I had the same routine every morning, which now I guess I didn't have to do anymore. I had no money and very little food (I just settle for ramen noodles every night) in my house. I don't have any friends, and I don't have a reason to make any. I'm socially awkward and people would most likely hate me at "Hello, I'm Jerome."
While I was wallowing in self pity, there was a ringing sound. I frowned. I don't have a phone anymore, I couldn't afford to pay the bills.
I stood up to follow the sound. It led to my kitchen, and when I looked to a table in the corner of the room I saw an old-fashioned telephone. I raised my eyebrows and made my way over to it.
The thing came with the house. It was cool-looking and seemed like an antique, so I didn't bother to get rid of it. I didn't even know the thing worked anymore.
There was no way to tell who the caller was, so with the thought that a killer could be on the other side of the line, I picked up the reciever and into it spoke, "Hello?"
A lot of heavy breathing and what sounded like sobbing came from the other side. "Oh my god, I did-- I didn't think you'd actually pick up. Oh my god... Oh my god."
"Yes, well, I picked up. Hallelujah I guess. Who's calling?"
"Um, my name is Mitchell Hughes."
"Right. How's it going, Mitch?"
"Terrible. I can't..." There was a pause as more heaving breathing came. Mitch spoke again with a croaked voice, "I can't calm down, dude! I... I..."
My eyes widened in realization that the guy on the other side of the line was probably having a panic attack and he was calling to me to help him calm down. "Oh. Um, okay. I need you to try to breathe."
"I'm breathing!" he yelled into the phone.
I would've laughed if he wasn't freaking out. "No, I mean like try to control yourself. Deep breaths, please."
Mitch struggled and I heard him suck in breath but he ended up choking it out. "No, I can't. I'm so alone... Jerome, help me... I'm so alone..."
I didn't even have time to find shock that he knew my name. "Well, think of the times when you weren't alone. When you were happy. Find your happy place. That usually calms me down. Happy thoughts, Mitchell, happy thoughts."
I bit my lip as silence came from the other line. I didn't know if he had actually listened to my advice and was concentrating or if he had collapsed. I hoped it wasn't the latter.
Suddenly, a bunch of spluttering and incoherent noises came from Mitch's side and I myself was about to have a panic attack. "It's... It's- It's not working! It makes it worse! Oh my god, I'm screwed. I- I feel so dizzy... Jerome, help!"
"I don't really know how," I murmured honestly. Curiously, I asked, "Why did you have a panic attack?"
"He... he left me. I'm so alone."
"A little vague there, Mitch. Who left you? Why?"
"M-my boyfriend... He said he didn't love me anymore. He left me... He just... He left."
"Boyfriend?" I questioned.
"Oh, god. I-I shouldn't have said that... Shit, why did I say that? I'm sorry if you hate me, I'm so sorry. I'm so stupid!"
"No, no! Mitch, it's cool," I assured, calming him down a bit. "Trust me, no problem with that. You and I are on the same team, bud."
"O-oh! Okay, well... d-do you know how this feels?"
"Can't say I do. Never really had a serious relationship. But I do know one thing about heartbreak. It gets better. You're going to find someone new. Someone is going to steal your heart away and this time, they're going to treat it nice and care for it. This is going to be hard for you for a couple more days, but after tons of chocolate ice cream, you'll realize that it's all right."
"R-really?"
I didn't hear him crying or breathing heavily, so I gave a grin. Maybe this pep talk was working. "Really. Listen, Mitch, I don't know anything about you. But I do know that some guy is going to come along and you're going to be blown away by how perfect he is. He's going to love you and care for you so much and you'll want to spend the rest of your life with him. And you will."
"That sounds... really nice, actually." Mitch gave a small giggle and my heart swelled a bit.
"It does, doesn't it? I don't know who caused you this trouble--"
"Johnathon," Mitch interrupted with a harsh voice. "Johnathon goddamn Bentley."
"Well, Johnathon goddamn Bentley is obviously a goddamn jackass."
Mitch gave a genuine laugh and I could practically hear him nod. "Yeah, he is."
"He obviously hurt you pretty bad but I'm telling you right now, he didn't doesn't deserve how much you were crying over him. If he decided he didn't love you, then who gives a damn about him? You seem like a sweet guy, honestly, and he didn't deserve you."
"He didn't?"
"No sir. Do you feel better now?"
There was a sniffle. "Yeah. I think. Thank you so much, Jerome."
"Hey, don't mention it, okay? I'm just glad you're okay."
"I'm probably not okay. I get panic attacks all the time. I'm surprised I didn't pass out like I normally do. Most of the time I have pills to calm me down, but I ran out. Guess I have to make a trip to the pharmacy."
"What causes these attacks?"
"Oh, just my messed up emotional life."
"Oh." Biting my lip, not really sure how to respond to it, I decided to just wrap up the call. "Well, be sure to call me if you ever have another attack. I'll try to help you out as much as I can."
"You don't have to. I really don't want to bother you."
"No, it's not a bother to me at all. I don't really have people to talk to, so as much as this was unexpected and not the happiest of conversations, it was really nice to here a human voice that wasn't ordering a donut."
Mitch gave a laugh. "Well, I guess we both helped each other out here."
"Yeah, I guess we did." There was a comfortable moment of silence and it gave me enough time to realize my legs were aching from standing still in one spot. "Well, bye Mitch."
"Wait! Uh, what's your middle name?"
I furrowed my eyebrows together but I didn't question it. "Robert."
"Okay. Thank you Jerome Robert Aceti."
"I also have a question. How did you find my number and why do you know my name?"
"Phone books are a magical thing."
"But I'm assuming you don't live in London."
"My aunt does. When I visited her house to help her with spring cleaning, I took a few things home. One of them was a phone book. I never thought I used it. But I flipped to a random page when I was freaking out earlier and found your name and number, so I called it."
"Oh. Well I'm glad you did. I'm serious though, call me again."
"Even if I'm not having a panic attack?" There was a smirk in his voice.
I chuckled. "Maybe. Don't call me too much, you thirsty thing. I don't know if this costs money or not."
"No promises. Bye for real, Jerome."
"Bye for real, Mitch."
I put the receiver down and a huge grin spread across my face.
So that just happened.
-x-
posted: march 14th, 2014
edited: not yet