It took me much longer to wake up then it had to fall asleep. The first thought that came to my mind was how warm I was. Usually, when I woke up in my room, it was freezing. But not today. Mom must have remembered to turn up the heat before she went to bed.
But then I opened my eyes, and a brief moment of panic swept over me. Where was I?
It only lasted a moment. I sat up, pushing the fluffy comforter off me. I only then realized that I had fallen asleep in my sundress. I ran my hand through my hair, remembering that I had also forgotten to take off my bow. It wasn't there.
I sighed. I'd just find it later.
The living room was lit by the little bit of sunlight coming in through the windows. They were positioned to face west, however, so the rising sun didn't shine straight at me. I was thankful for that. No more waking up to the glaring rays flowing straight into my eyes.
I stood up, stretching my arms. My first night sleeping in my new apartment was amazing- I hadn't woken up once during the night. I felt refreshed. And hungry.
I looked at the kitchen, unsure. Would it be rude to just go through the fridge? I mean, maybe I could find a granola bar or something for a quick breakfast.
I stood on the step next to the couch, my brow furrowed. Maybe I should just go dig through my clothes for a clean outfit and walk to McDonalds. But then I would have to walk all the way down town and back up. Plus, I didn't know the code to the gate.
My stomach grumbled at me. Ah, fuck it, I thought, skipping across the room. I walked around the island, quietly looking through all the cabinets. The clock over the oven read 6:23. I didn't want to wake Len up this early on our first day of living together.
I paused my searching, fazed by the thought. Living together.
My growling stomach brought me back to my objective. I opened cabinet after cabinet, finding plates, bowls, cups, and everything else except food.
On the left side of the room next the fridge, I opened a cabinet that was almost as tall as me. My eyes widened as enough junk food to feed a small army was revealed to me. Doritos, potato chips, Oreos... My eyes scanned the cabinet like a hungry lion's.
They landed on a box of pancake mix. I bit the inside of my cheek, pondering whether or not I should make them. I mean, they were my favorite breakfast food of all time.
I shook my head and grabbed a package of pop tarts. I didn't want to make a mess.
Pop tarts in hand, I walked to my room, and stared at my boxed belongings.My measly amount of belongings made my new room look even bigger. I unwrapped my breakfast, and took a bite. These boxes weren't going to unpack themselves, so I set the poptarts on one box, and opened another.
The box of choice was full of my clothes. I opened my closet, shocked that someone could even own enough clothes to fill it. Luckily, there were empty hangers lining the walls. I grabbed a handful off the metal bar, and threw them on the box next to my pop tarts.
One by one I unpacked my sloppy pile of dresses, placing a hanger in each one. Every once in a while I would break another piece of my breakfast, slowly silencing my growling stomach.
When I finished with the first box, I folded it up and placed it in the back of my closet. Eventually, I made my way through the boxes, and through the pop tarts. The closet looked pathetic with entire wardrobe hanging in it; it didn't even take up a fourth of the space. Even with my jeans folded on the shelves. I chuckled. I always thought I had too many clothes. I guess I could tell my parents to keep my dresser.
I had nowhere to put the rest of my belongings until they dropped off my desk, so I left the last box alone.
I went back into the kitchen, throwing away the wrapper. It was almost 8 o'clock now, and Len still wasn't awake.
I sat back down on the couch, unsure what to do. The remote for the T.V. was on the fireplace, exactly as Len had told me, so I grabbed it and turned it on. He had all the good channels, which I was pleased to discover. I clicked on one of them. They were playing The Breakfast Club; one of my favorites.
I began to daydream about the box of pancake mix in the cabinet again. Why not make them? If I cleaned up after myself, and made Len some... What's the worst that could happen?
I took a deep breath. He could be pissed that I went through all his stuff. But while he'd be angry at me he'd be chowing down on my famous buttermilk pancakes.
With that thought, I hopped back up off the couch and into the kitchen.
After another scavenger hunt through the cabinets, I found all the dishes I needed, along with all the ingredients. I even found a bag of chocolate chips, and didn't think twice about swiping them. They were the milk chocolate ones, too. Not the semi-sweet bullshit.
The more ingredients I mixed together, the more excited I became. I hadn't had chocolate chip pancakes in forever. I plopped the chocolate into the creamy batter. I licked my lips, stirring it some more. It took me a couple of minutes to get the stovetop to heat up, but I figured it out. I placed a pan on the burner, hoping it was the right one, and poured some batter into the pan.
As I placed the bowl back on the counter, I heard a door open behind me. For a split second I felt like a child getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar. I looked over my shoulder, and saw Len step out of his room. I turned to face him, nervous.
"Something smells good," he stated, running a hand through his messy hair. He walked toward the kitchen. He pulled out one of the stools, which stood on the opposite side of the island from me, but walked up next to me instead of sitting.
I relaxed. "Chocolate chip pancakes."
He smiled slightly, looking into the bowl of batter. The stove caught his eye. "The pan's on the wrong burner," he pointed out, chuckling. He moved it to the burner on the right side.
I blushed. "I couldn't figure out how to work it," I explained.
He let out a laugh, and sat on the stool, resting his elbows on the marble counters. I watched the batter begin to bubble in the pan.
"It doesn't have to be awkward," I said, desperately trying to keep the tense silence away from us.
I heard him sigh behind me. "Yeah... I don't know. It's kinda weird to have someone else living here."
I had been referring to the fact that he had been trying to sleep with me, but I guess the living together issue could be solved in this conversation too. "Yeah. My parents weren't too happy about it, either."
"It's not like I'm not happy about it," he replied quickly. "I mean, I'm not specifically happy about it, either." He paused again. "That came out wrong."
I flipped the pancake, slightly amused at his flustered speech. "You're neutral about it."
"Yeah." He confirmed. He seemed glad that I hadn't taken offence to it. "It's just... At this time yesterday, I never would have thought that someone would be living in my apartment, cooking me pancakes in the morning."
I laughed. "Chocolate chip pancakes," I corrected. I smiled, though the tension between us wasn't exactly gone.
He chuckled, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
"How many do you want?" I asked.
He shrugged, but didn't answer.
"Alright," I said quietly. "You get two then." I grabbed a plate from the cabinets. I was pretty much an expert on where everything was in here from my scavenger hunts. I plopped the first finished pancake onto the plate, and poured the batter out for the next one.
I was able to stack both of our plates with three sweet-smelling pancakes. I set Len's plate in front of him and he thanked me briefly before tearing into them like a starved animal. I set mine on the counter and put the pan in the sink. I decided that I'd clean them when I finished breakfast. That reminded me...
"Your apartment is super clean," I commented.
He shrugged. "I like cleaning." He spoke with his mouth full.
"You don't have, like, a maid or something?"
He laughed. "No."
I blushed at my suddenly stupid-sounding question. I ran water over the pan, my back to Len, thankful he couldn't see my red face. "I've just... I've never met someone who actually enjoys cleaning." I turned my back as soon as I felt my blush disappear.
Len shrugged again, still looking down at his phone and shoveling his food into his mouth. "There's worse hobbies to have."
"I'm not sure cleaning would classify as a hobby." I put my plate on the island, and pulled out the stool next to him.
"Yeah." He speech was muffled. It sounded more like "Myeeh" through the pancakes. I took that as a sign they were good, and began to dig into my own plate. They were delicious.
"So," I started again. "Now that we're... uh, living together, we should probably at least get to know each other a little bit."
At this, Len finally looked up from his phone. There were only a few scraps of pancakes still present on his plate. "Uh, whadaya wanna know?"
I laughed nervously, realizing that I actually knew a lot more about him than he knew about me. "Honestly, I already know a lot about you- not in, like, a stalker-ish way... I mean like a fan."
He put his fork down, laughing at me again. "Oh yeah, you were a fan until the concert."
I cocked my head to the side. "What makes you think I'm not a fan now?"
"Well, I figured..." he rubbed the nape of his neck, trying to pick his words. "Look," he started. "I would never have talked to you like.. I did... if I had known you were gonna be working with me."
My eyes widened in realization. "Oh."
"Yeah, I'm really sorry."
"It's fine," I said, meaning it. He had reminded of me of my theory of the Vocal Family again. It made sense to me that Len wouldn't want to flirt with Miku, Gumi, or the others. They were like his family. But fans must have been a different story. And I was part of the family now.
Len stabbed the last piece of pancake on his plate with his fork. "That actually makes me feel a lot better." He let out a laugh as he chewed.
I smiled. "That's good. We got all of the awkward stuff out of the way."
He picked up his plate, taking it to the sink. He didn't reply as he washed the melted chocolate chip stains off his plate.
I was just beginning my last pancake when we heard a knock on the door. Len turned the faucet off, and walked off towards it. I left my plate and followed him.
I looked over his shoulder as he opened the door, revealing a nervous-looking Miku. She was dressed in her pajamas, her hands were folded behind her back. I remembered that the last time I saw her was when I apologized to her. The tense mood returned to me as quickly as it had disappeared.
"Yo," Miku greeted Len with a wave.
"What's up?" He asked.
She looked past him, meeting my gaze. "Luka told me you moved in last night." Her voice was monotone.
I stared at her, unsure of how to respond. "Yeah."
She paused, looking down at the ground. "So, I was thinking about what you said," she started. "About my songs."
Len rolled his eyes. "She didn't mean it, Miku." He was wrong. I did.
"No-" she cut him off, looking straight at me again. "You-you're right."
"What?" Len and I said simultaneously.
Miku's eyes darted back and forth between us. "I was listening over some of our songs," she continued, her eyes settling on Len. "She's right. They all sound the same."
He furrowed his brow. "But you love your songs."
Miku shrugged. "Maybe the fans are right."
Why wouldn't they be? I asked myself.
Her blue eyes flickered to me. "I was wondering if you could help me."
"Help you with what?" I asked, taken aback.
She moved her hands from behind her back, revealing a small notebook. "With writing some new songs for the next concert."
My heart began to pound in my chest. I stood there, dumbfounded, and unable to find my words.
Miku sensed this, the corners of her mouth lifting up into a small smile. "You wanna come hang out with us downstairs for a little and help us out?"
Len looked over her shoulder at me, a rough expression on his face. I ignored him. "S-sure."
Miku's face lit up. "Awesome." She took a step in, grabbed my arm firmly, and pulled me out the door. She slammed the door shut behind us, not giving Len another glance.
She led me toward the stairs at the end of the hall, and let go of me as she bounded down the steps. Her hair gracefully flowed after her. She clutched her notebook to her chest.
"How're you settling in?" She asked me in a friendly tone of voice.
"I haven't even been here for twenty-four hours yet."
She giggled. "I know, but how's the apartment? How's Len dealing with having a new roommate?"
I shrugged. "He seems kinda... distant towards me. Like he's uncomfortable or something."
Miku nodded. We passed the third floor. "He's kinda weird around people at first. But he'll get used to you," she assured me. "I'm sure it doesn't help that he was trying to pick you up at the concert."
I laughed. It echoed through the staircase. We reached the final floor. "For sure."
Miku returned the laugh, and bounded childishly across the tiled floor. I noticed then that she didn't have any shoes on. She stopped in front of her double doors, waiting for me.
"Welcome, to my humble abode," she sang, dramatically opening the double doors.
I smiled, stepping through. Her apartment was almost identical to Len and I's, except she didn't have a fireplace, and her living room was shaped as a square instead of a circle. The door on the right was painted pink, the one on the left was painted teal. Their kitchen looked exactly like ours, but their living room was quite different. Instead of just having one couch, they had three bright red ones arranged around a large, dark wood coffee table. On the couches, Luka and Gumi were sitting. They had been chatting excitedly, but as we entered, they turned their attention to us. They were both dressed in their pajamas as well.
"Sup, new girl," Gumi greeted, standing up on the couch. Her green hair stood up at odd angles from her head. Luka glanced my direction, but said nothing.
"Sup." I waved at Gumi.
Miku jumped down onto one of the couches, patting the empty spot next to her. "Let's write."
I settled next to her, noting that her couch was much softer than Len and I's. Luka rolled her eyes as I ran my hand over the fabric. I ignored it, but Miku gave her a dirty look.
"I just think it's dumb that you're gonna change your whole style because the newbie said she didn't like it," Luka complained, answering a question that was never asked. Her gaze fell on me. "No offence."
I bit the inside of my cheek, not replying. Offence taken.
Miku took a deep breath, as if preparing for a speech. "Look," she began, crossing her legs. "You can't just ignore the fact that less people have been coming to our concerts, buying our songs on iTunes, and coming backstage for autographs." She set her notebook in her lap, open to a blank page. "And if writing some new kinds of songs is what it takes to get them to come to our shows, buy our music, and actually want to meet us, then I'm gonna write some new kinds of songs."
Gumi's eyes darted between the two long-haired girls as they talked.
Luka crossed her arms. "It doesn't matter what the fans think as long as you like it."
I narrowed my eyes. Aren't the fans the whole point? I wondered.
"We're not the ones buying concert tickets and albums," Miku argued. "And I can write a song that's different from what we've been writing and still like it."
"You're selling yourself out."
Miku began to raise her voice. "Why, because I want my fans to like me and my music?"
Luka sat up. "No, because you like the music you make. Why do you have to change it?"
Gumi and I glanced at each other, daring each other to interrupt the feud. The two continued bickering in the background, and Gumi stared at me sheepishly.
"Guys," I snapped, shutting both Miku and Luka up. I sighed, looking at Luka. "Why did you start singing?"
She narrowed her eyes at me. "What kind of a question is that?"
"You started writing your own songs and singing them because people would listen to them, right?" I tried to keep my voice as calm as possible.
"Yeah, but-"
"And so that people liked them?" I asked. Luka just stared at me like I was crazy. "It's not just about the music that you like. Without your fans you wouldn't even be sitting in this room."
A smug look appeared on Luka's face. "Well, you're sitting in this room. Last time I checked, you don't have any fans. Why are you here?"
"So you're telling me that you didn't like Chronophobia?" I retorted, enjoying the smug look wipe itself off her face. "I'm pretty sure that you guys are my fans. And that's enough for me."
Luka leaned back, unable to reply. "Whatever."
I sighed. Gumi looked at me nervously. She looked just as uncomfortable as I did.
A couple seconds of silence passed. Miku ended it by grabbing a pen off of the coffee table. "Like I said earlier." Her eyes flashed excitedly, completely ignoring the fight that just occurred. "Let's write."
It was a slow start, but our progress began to pick up as Miku and I brainstormed ideas for her songs. Gumi came over and sat with us, specifically helping with the instrumentals. Luka stayed where she was, her thumbs twiddling away on her phone, pretending not to listen to us. Occasionally Miku, Gumi, and I would wander off-topic, so it took us quite a while to get the lyrics to the first song the way we wanted them. We talked for hours and hours about the song, discussing everything from the flow of the lyrics to the instruments in the background.
When it was just starting to get dark, Luka sucked up her pride. We watched her as she put her phone away and moved over to help us.