( i just wanna be okay today ) rob & julian.
His heart didn't feel like it was beating - more like it was ticking. The rhythm was faint and almost sickly. It had always been a rather bare apartment; Rob never bought much out of fear of breaking things. Now the sheer emptiness made him feel ill, and he collapsed on his bare, stripped bed silently, pressing the palms of his hands roughly into his eyes to stem the angry, pathetic tears that were so close to spilling from his eyes. What little he head, it was collected in this stupid apartment, in his stupid Ikea drawers and on his stupid Ikea shelves, and now all of it was gone. He should have had that door fixed straight away. Just because he got away with it for days at a time before didn't mean that he was always going to get away with it. It came back and bit him in the arse this time. He should have expected him.
Mondays immediately got worse when you came back to a burgled house. Rob had an afternoon off. He came home early, he'd called the guy to repair the door. He'd had a peaceful weekend. Helping Julian find a house had been the most fun he'd had in a long, long while, and it had relaxed him to a point where he hadn't broken anything since then. He'd woken with a smile on his face this morning.
They hadn't left a single stone unturned. Everything was gone - his laptop, barely used, his teeny television, his CDs, even his damned bed linens and half his clothes were gone. Only the furniture was left. The stiff back door that Rob had never tried to open had been smashed and the narrow alley behind used as a convenient and discreet escape route. Talking to the police had been a nightmare. Admitting he had left the door unattended earned him no sympathy, but he didn't ask for it either. He has just miserably accepted it for what it was.
It seemed impossible to determine the next step. All Rob had the strength to do was eventually move from his bed and, once he had calmed down, make a cup of tea. At least the bastards left him some milk and teabags, though the kettle was gone and he only had two pans left in which he heated some water on the hob. He drank but tasted next to nothing; eventually he just wandered back to the living room and flopped on his sofa. Nothing else to do but go to work in the morning and start rebuilding the home he'd spent so long trying to make.
Mondays immediately got worse when you came back to a burgled house. Rob had an afternoon off. He came home early, he'd called the guy to repair the door. He'd had a peaceful weekend. Helping Julian find a house had been the most fun he'd had in a long, long while, and it had relaxed him to a point where he hadn't broken anything since then. He'd woken with a smile on his face this morning.
They hadn't left a single stone unturned. Everything was gone - his laptop, barely used, his teeny television, his CDs, even his damned bed linens and half his clothes were gone. Only the furniture was left. The stiff back door that Rob had never tried to open had been smashed and the narrow alley behind used as a convenient and discreet escape route. Talking to the police had been a nightmare. Admitting he had left the door unattended earned him no sympathy, but he didn't ask for it either. He has just miserably accepted it for what it was.
It seemed impossible to determine the next step. All Rob had the strength to do was eventually move from his bed and, once he had calmed down, make a cup of tea. At least the bastards left him some milk and teabags, though the kettle was gone and he only had two pans left in which he heated some water on the hob. He drank but tasted next to nothing; eventually he just wandered back to the living room and flopped on his sofa. Nothing else to do but go to work in the morning and start rebuilding the home he'd spent so long trying to make.