NOT DEAD YET!!
Title: There's No Place Like Home
Authors: drkhearted and twilight_rain
Rating: PG for alcohol (ab)use.
Notes: Inspired by the fact I still am not used to the fact we now live 1.5 hours away from each other. Also, this one is quite long. Read if you have the time.
Frank hurried into the kitchen, adjusting his tie and pouring himself some coffee. He took a seat on the island in the center and shuffled through the newspaper, unknowing of the impending doom awaiting him. He heard Teresa coming from her room.
Teresa made her way to the kitchen, not in the best of moods. She had no idea why she was awake so early, but no matter how she tried, she just couldn't get back to sleep. It was the beginning of what she knew was going to be a bad day--all bad days started off this way. She wandered to the cupboard and reached to get her extra-large mug; coffee would be the only solace of the morning. Except her hand met empty space. She spun and glared. "What did you do with my mug?"
Frank looked at her puzzled for a moment, before slowly crossing his eyes to see the cup he was sipping from; a cup which just happen to be exactly like the one Teresa always used. Frank gulped, placing the mug on the counter, and sliding it her way. "Um... sorry," he managed.
"What the hell, Frank?!" she snapped. "There are plenty of other good mugs, it's not like we were out! I specifically wash that one by hand every day to use it, and I hate washing things by hand.” She roughly spun and grabbed another mug out of the cabinet, pouring coffee into it, before sitting down on the other side of the island, glaring down at the unfamiliar mug.
Frank looked down dejectedly at the newspaper. He just never seemed to do anything right. He rustled through the paper, happening across the realty section. He looked up at the grumbling Teresa, and sighed. "Perhaps it’s for the best," he said to himself, secretly folding the section and hiding it in his nearby messenger bag. He downed the remaining coffee, ran over to the sink to give the mug a thorough hand-washing. He placed the mug in front of Teresa and said, "I am off to work. See you later!"
----
Teresa got up to get herself something to eat. For once, she felt refreshed enough to wake up early, but perhaps that was because she hadn't needed to go to work the night before, so she actually got to bed at a decent hour. She walked to the kitchen only to meet an empty room. That was strange. She hadn't heard the door shut, so Frank couldn't have left for work yet. Frowning, she walked to Frank's door, thought about knocking, but just opened it instead. Her eyes widened. "What are you doing?" she asked.
Frank looked up from his ministrations. He placed a few folded shirts into the suitcase on his bed before mustering up the courage to tell her. "I found a new apartment. I've come to realize that perhaps me staying her isn't the best of situations. You need your space, and I shouldn't keep mooching off you. I am moving in tomorrow. It's a great place, close to the bar and all. The landlady was really nice..." he just couldn't seem to stop talking. Perhaps because he just didn't want a response. It wasn't the easiest decision he ever made in his life.
She blinked at him again. "You're...moving out?" she asked, knowing that he was, but not really coming to terms with the idea. She'd gotten used to having someone around in the apartment, and the idea of being the only one again was, well, a strange one.
"Yeah... I guess I am..." his voice trailed off, not able to look at her. He began to put more clothes into his suitcase. He didn't know what else to say.
She sighed, and nodded. If he'd made up his mind, then she wasn't going to be the one to change it. She quietly turned and headed back to the kitchen, getting down her mug and pouring herself some coffee. Suddenly, she felt that she really wasn't hungry anymore. She should have known. Ever since the coffee mug incident a week or so ago, she had sensed that something was going on, but had never thought that much about it. She should have seen it coming.
When Teresa left, he jumped into the bed, staring at the ceiling, which was turning a deeper and deeper shade of red as the morning strengthened. He had to do this. He was making her life miserable. He kicked down her bathroom door, misplaced a ton of her things, and generally just got in the way. "It's for the best," he repeated in his mind
----
Teresa sat at her piano, just sight-reading through sheet after sheet of music. She'd been doing that a lot of late. It was calming, and it helped her forget that there was not going to be anyone coming home to join her for dinner, nor was there going to be anyone to accompany her on the couch watching bad television. There wasn't going to be anyone there to get in her way, nor was there going to be anyone there when she needed them. She struck a wrong chord and sighed, before fixing it and continuing. Nothing ever got misplaced, but she wouldn't lie, she missed having Frank living with her. Not that she'd ever be able to tell him that. She'd tried to be a good flatmate, but apparently she'd failed. Finishing the song she was playing, she let the chord ring out, before taking her hands off the keys and moving to lean her arms on the music rest. It was too quiet--too much like it had been for a long time, before she'd known what it was like to live with someone else there. Sighing for what felt like the hundredth time that day, she leaned her head on her arms and shut her eyes.
----
Frank watched the dirty water drip from the crack in the ceiling down into his plate of burnt food. The light overhead flickered on and off in a very strobe-like fashion. He could hear the small, rotund landlady screaming at some gameshow on the television about three floors down. And just at that moment, a picture fell off a wall due to the couple next door having loud and apparently rough sex. One of the window panes was broken, which let in a terrible draft. But none of that bothered him, really. What was worse was the fact he had never felt so alone in his life. There wasn't anyone to yell at him, or anyone to scare the shit out of him to help get rid of hiccups. He missed the sweet melodies that came from the piano, and them laughing at badly dubbed movies. He tried to be a good roommate, he really did. Apparently he didn't do a great job. If only he could tell Teresa the truth, but he had trouble expressing stuff like that. He sighed and downed the glass of bourbon. He then turned to his video games, and played several hours of angry "Sub-par Smash Sisters." Video games helped take his mind off things.
----
Teresa clocked into Satan's Silhouette and stealthily went to sit at her piano there. It was fairly crowded, considering that it was an off night, so it didn't take much effort to sneak in. What would prove to be harder would be when she'd inevitably have to get a drink and speak to Frank, since he was bartender. She wouldn't really know what to say to him. Saying that she missed him was just right out, because she could never admit that to his face, but to say that she was happy without him was an outright lie. She hoped that no one would bring it up at all, really.
Frank couldn't help but every once in a while glance towards the other end of the bar where Teresa's piano was. While all the drunken customers kept him busy, he couldn't keep his mind on things. He found himself giving people the wrong drinks, or using the wrong sort of alcohol and having to start over. He needed to focus, as awkward as it might be. That's when he saw Teresa starting to head over for her nightly drink.
Teresa got to the bar, not sitting down in her usual seat, but instead standing there awkwardly, tracing a droplet of water around on the counter until it was her turn to order. "Hey," she said quietly.
"Hey," he responded, wiping his hands on a towel. "What will it be?" He didn't know what else to say. He hated acting like some bartender who didn't know her, but he honestly couldn't manage act normally.
She usually got an exceptionally light drink, considering that she had to be on her toes at the piano, making sure that she paid attention to what it was that she was playing. Today called for something different. "Ruby red and mango rum," she decided. She wouldn't forgo flavor just because she wanted a harder drink. She couldn't manage to look him in the eyes, lest she blurt something better left unsaid in her mind, such as the fact that she hoped that he was happy wherever he'd moved, because she herself was on her way to miserably lonely.
Frank took note of the fact she went for a harder drink than usual, but followed suit anyways, and presented her with her concoction. He placed it in front of her on a "Satan's Silhouette" napkin. "So..." he trailed off.
"So..." she repeated, trailing off.”I'll see you around, yeah?" she asked, and then grabbed her drink and napkin to head back to the piano, without waiting for an answer.
----
Teresa sat at the piano for what seemed like the fiftieth time that day. Her choice in music had progressed to harder, more emotionally involved pieces, and she'd had a recent fixation on Saint-Saens pieces that wouldn't be leaving for a while. Anything to make the quiet disappear, and since television was only depressing when watching it by herself (making comments aloud was only fun when there was someone there to laugh at them), the piano was her only salvation. She picked up "The Swan" and became so involved with its sweeping melody that she almost didn't notice the knocking on the door. Grumbling to herself, she went to answer it. "Yeah, yeah, what is it?" she asked, opening it. The only people who knocked anymore were either trying to sell something or deliver something to the wrong apartment number.
Frank stood patiently by the door. He was only checking up on her. A friendly sort of thing. Go on over and have some coffee. It’s what friends to. Yes. That was entirely the reason he was there. The door swung open, and he smiled. "Hey!"
Teresa was a bit taken aback by her visitor, but nonetheless smiled back. "Hey," she said, leaning against the doorframe. "What brings you back here to this neck-of-the-woods?”
"Oh, you know. Just thought I would stop by, see how you were. I also actually forgot my barman's bat under my old bed, too. So I thought I would stop by and get that. So how've you been?" he took the liberty of making himself at home on the couch, just like he always used to.
Shutting the door behind him, she went to go sit back on her piano bench, so that they were both sitting in the same room, but not exactly facing each other furniture-wise. "I've been good," she lied. "Brushing up on my piano, and the lot." She sat there awkwardly for a few moments, before turning the conversation back to him. "What about you, how're you doing, with...y'know, things?"
"Things are going smoothly" he said, reeking of mendacity. "The new apartment is... cozy. The neighbors seem nice. And the draft - I mean air-conditioning is quite a nice feature." He sat awkwardly, playing with a loose thread on Teresa's couch. "So yeah... "
Scratching her head for a second, she got up to get a drink from the kitchen. "You want anything?" she asked, feeling strange about him being a guest in the flat instead of a resident.
"Um... have any juice or anything? And perhaps some good alcohol to mix with it?" He turned to actually look her in the face for the first since he arrived. He quickly turned back to his loose thread. "If not, water will be fine."
"Yeah," she said, mixing herself her recent favorite ruby red with mango rum and one for him as well. "Here," she said, handing it off to him, before going to sit at her piano, taking a sip, and sitting it down on the coaster that was perpetually there on the piano for occasions like this. She sat there for a moment, looking at her hands. "It's been busy at the bar lately," she said, trying to make conversation and failing horribly.
"Yeah. Probably because it’s nearing tax season. Everyone drinks during that time. It's great for business. However, I am having a hard time keeping up with the demand," he went on, placing the glass on the coffee table in front of him.
"Hm, makes sense," she said, still looking at her hands.
"Yup..." he trailed off.
"So..." she started, trailing off, "...do you want to move back in with me?"
"I have my suitcase outside." With that, he ran off to fetch it, and all was right with the world.
Authors: drkhearted and twilight_rain
Rating: PG for alcohol (ab)use.
Notes: Inspired by the fact I still am not used to the fact we now live 1.5 hours away from each other. Also, this one is quite long. Read if you have the time.
Frank hurried into the kitchen, adjusting his tie and pouring himself some coffee. He took a seat on the island in the center and shuffled through the newspaper, unknowing of the impending doom awaiting him. He heard Teresa coming from her room.
Teresa made her way to the kitchen, not in the best of moods. She had no idea why she was awake so early, but no matter how she tried, she just couldn't get back to sleep. It was the beginning of what she knew was going to be a bad day--all bad days started off this way. She wandered to the cupboard and reached to get her extra-large mug; coffee would be the only solace of the morning. Except her hand met empty space. She spun and glared. "What did you do with my mug?"
Frank looked at her puzzled for a moment, before slowly crossing his eyes to see the cup he was sipping from; a cup which just happen to be exactly like the one Teresa always used. Frank gulped, placing the mug on the counter, and sliding it her way. "Um... sorry," he managed.
"What the hell, Frank?!" she snapped. "There are plenty of other good mugs, it's not like we were out! I specifically wash that one by hand every day to use it, and I hate washing things by hand.” She roughly spun and grabbed another mug out of the cabinet, pouring coffee into it, before sitting down on the other side of the island, glaring down at the unfamiliar mug.
Frank looked down dejectedly at the newspaper. He just never seemed to do anything right. He rustled through the paper, happening across the realty section. He looked up at the grumbling Teresa, and sighed. "Perhaps it’s for the best," he said to himself, secretly folding the section and hiding it in his nearby messenger bag. He downed the remaining coffee, ran over to the sink to give the mug a thorough hand-washing. He placed the mug in front of Teresa and said, "I am off to work. See you later!"
----
Teresa got up to get herself something to eat. For once, she felt refreshed enough to wake up early, but perhaps that was because she hadn't needed to go to work the night before, so she actually got to bed at a decent hour. She walked to the kitchen only to meet an empty room. That was strange. She hadn't heard the door shut, so Frank couldn't have left for work yet. Frowning, she walked to Frank's door, thought about knocking, but just opened it instead. Her eyes widened. "What are you doing?" she asked.
Frank looked up from his ministrations. He placed a few folded shirts into the suitcase on his bed before mustering up the courage to tell her. "I found a new apartment. I've come to realize that perhaps me staying her isn't the best of situations. You need your space, and I shouldn't keep mooching off you. I am moving in tomorrow. It's a great place, close to the bar and all. The landlady was really nice..." he just couldn't seem to stop talking. Perhaps because he just didn't want a response. It wasn't the easiest decision he ever made in his life.
She blinked at him again. "You're...moving out?" she asked, knowing that he was, but not really coming to terms with the idea. She'd gotten used to having someone around in the apartment, and the idea of being the only one again was, well, a strange one.
"Yeah... I guess I am..." his voice trailed off, not able to look at her. He began to put more clothes into his suitcase. He didn't know what else to say.
She sighed, and nodded. If he'd made up his mind, then she wasn't going to be the one to change it. She quietly turned and headed back to the kitchen, getting down her mug and pouring herself some coffee. Suddenly, she felt that she really wasn't hungry anymore. She should have known. Ever since the coffee mug incident a week or so ago, she had sensed that something was going on, but had never thought that much about it. She should have seen it coming.
When Teresa left, he jumped into the bed, staring at the ceiling, which was turning a deeper and deeper shade of red as the morning strengthened. He had to do this. He was making her life miserable. He kicked down her bathroom door, misplaced a ton of her things, and generally just got in the way. "It's for the best," he repeated in his mind
----
Teresa sat at her piano, just sight-reading through sheet after sheet of music. She'd been doing that a lot of late. It was calming, and it helped her forget that there was not going to be anyone coming home to join her for dinner, nor was there going to be anyone to accompany her on the couch watching bad television. There wasn't going to be anyone there to get in her way, nor was there going to be anyone there when she needed them. She struck a wrong chord and sighed, before fixing it and continuing. Nothing ever got misplaced, but she wouldn't lie, she missed having Frank living with her. Not that she'd ever be able to tell him that. She'd tried to be a good flatmate, but apparently she'd failed. Finishing the song she was playing, she let the chord ring out, before taking her hands off the keys and moving to lean her arms on the music rest. It was too quiet--too much like it had been for a long time, before she'd known what it was like to live with someone else there. Sighing for what felt like the hundredth time that day, she leaned her head on her arms and shut her eyes.
----
Frank watched the dirty water drip from the crack in the ceiling down into his plate of burnt food. The light overhead flickered on and off in a very strobe-like fashion. He could hear the small, rotund landlady screaming at some gameshow on the television about three floors down. And just at that moment, a picture fell off a wall due to the couple next door having loud and apparently rough sex. One of the window panes was broken, which let in a terrible draft. But none of that bothered him, really. What was worse was the fact he had never felt so alone in his life. There wasn't anyone to yell at him, or anyone to scare the shit out of him to help get rid of hiccups. He missed the sweet melodies that came from the piano, and them laughing at badly dubbed movies. He tried to be a good roommate, he really did. Apparently he didn't do a great job. If only he could tell Teresa the truth, but he had trouble expressing stuff like that. He sighed and downed the glass of bourbon. He then turned to his video games, and played several hours of angry "Sub-par Smash Sisters." Video games helped take his mind off things.
----
Teresa clocked into Satan's Silhouette and stealthily went to sit at her piano there. It was fairly crowded, considering that it was an off night, so it didn't take much effort to sneak in. What would prove to be harder would be when she'd inevitably have to get a drink and speak to Frank, since he was bartender. She wouldn't really know what to say to him. Saying that she missed him was just right out, because she could never admit that to his face, but to say that she was happy without him was an outright lie. She hoped that no one would bring it up at all, really.
Frank couldn't help but every once in a while glance towards the other end of the bar where Teresa's piano was. While all the drunken customers kept him busy, he couldn't keep his mind on things. He found himself giving people the wrong drinks, or using the wrong sort of alcohol and having to start over. He needed to focus, as awkward as it might be. That's when he saw Teresa starting to head over for her nightly drink.
Teresa got to the bar, not sitting down in her usual seat, but instead standing there awkwardly, tracing a droplet of water around on the counter until it was her turn to order. "Hey," she said quietly.
"Hey," he responded, wiping his hands on a towel. "What will it be?" He didn't know what else to say. He hated acting like some bartender who didn't know her, but he honestly couldn't manage act normally.
She usually got an exceptionally light drink, considering that she had to be on her toes at the piano, making sure that she paid attention to what it was that she was playing. Today called for something different. "Ruby red and mango rum," she decided. She wouldn't forgo flavor just because she wanted a harder drink. She couldn't manage to look him in the eyes, lest she blurt something better left unsaid in her mind, such as the fact that she hoped that he was happy wherever he'd moved, because she herself was on her way to miserably lonely.
Frank took note of the fact she went for a harder drink than usual, but followed suit anyways, and presented her with her concoction. He placed it in front of her on a "Satan's Silhouette" napkin. "So..." he trailed off.
"So..." she repeated, trailing off.”I'll see you around, yeah?" she asked, and then grabbed her drink and napkin to head back to the piano, without waiting for an answer.
----
Teresa sat at the piano for what seemed like the fiftieth time that day. Her choice in music had progressed to harder, more emotionally involved pieces, and she'd had a recent fixation on Saint-Saens pieces that wouldn't be leaving for a while. Anything to make the quiet disappear, and since television was only depressing when watching it by herself (making comments aloud was only fun when there was someone there to laugh at them), the piano was her only salvation. She picked up "The Swan" and became so involved with its sweeping melody that she almost didn't notice the knocking on the door. Grumbling to herself, she went to answer it. "Yeah, yeah, what is it?" she asked, opening it. The only people who knocked anymore were either trying to sell something or deliver something to the wrong apartment number.
Frank stood patiently by the door. He was only checking up on her. A friendly sort of thing. Go on over and have some coffee. It’s what friends to. Yes. That was entirely the reason he was there. The door swung open, and he smiled. "Hey!"
Teresa was a bit taken aback by her visitor, but nonetheless smiled back. "Hey," she said, leaning against the doorframe. "What brings you back here to this neck-of-the-woods?”
"Oh, you know. Just thought I would stop by, see how you were. I also actually forgot my barman's bat under my old bed, too. So I thought I would stop by and get that. So how've you been?" he took the liberty of making himself at home on the couch, just like he always used to.
Shutting the door behind him, she went to go sit back on her piano bench, so that they were both sitting in the same room, but not exactly facing each other furniture-wise. "I've been good," she lied. "Brushing up on my piano, and the lot." She sat there awkwardly for a few moments, before turning the conversation back to him. "What about you, how're you doing, with...y'know, things?"
"Things are going smoothly" he said, reeking of mendacity. "The new apartment is... cozy. The neighbors seem nice. And the draft - I mean air-conditioning is quite a nice feature." He sat awkwardly, playing with a loose thread on Teresa's couch. "So yeah... "
Scratching her head for a second, she got up to get a drink from the kitchen. "You want anything?" she asked, feeling strange about him being a guest in the flat instead of a resident.
"Um... have any juice or anything? And perhaps some good alcohol to mix with it?" He turned to actually look her in the face for the first since he arrived. He quickly turned back to his loose thread. "If not, water will be fine."
"Yeah," she said, mixing herself her recent favorite ruby red with mango rum and one for him as well. "Here," she said, handing it off to him, before going to sit at her piano, taking a sip, and sitting it down on the coaster that was perpetually there on the piano for occasions like this. She sat there for a moment, looking at her hands. "It's been busy at the bar lately," she said, trying to make conversation and failing horribly.
"Yeah. Probably because it’s nearing tax season. Everyone drinks during that time. It's great for business. However, I am having a hard time keeping up with the demand," he went on, placing the glass on the coffee table in front of him.
"Hm, makes sense," she said, still looking at her hands.
"Yup..." he trailed off.
"So..." she started, trailing off, "...do you want to move back in with me?"
"I have my suitcase outside." With that, he ran off to fetch it, and all was right with the world.