It's Worse Than You Think

I held the small metal key out with shaking fingers, and turned it to unlock the front door, which was painted an odd shade of red. This is the first time I’ll be in my place by myself, and not with some awkward realtor right behind me. I really do hate those people. It’s just not physically possible to be that excited about drawers and closet space. But I forced a smile through the conversations, and here I am. And of course, it was fucking worth it.

Apartment number 293, on the second floor. Which is actually pretty perfect, because I’m not sure that I could handle being on a higher floor. I’m fucking terrified of heights. I have been for as long as I can remember, and luckily, I don’t really deal with heights anyways. Besides the bazillion hour airplane ride to get here, and that was pretty disastrous. Other then that, it doesn’t really come up into conversation, you know? How often are you a thousand feet up in the air?

I peeked around the door frame like a little kid before rushing inside, locking it directly behind me. I don’t want to get murdered, or robbed my first night living here. Not that there’s anything to steal, but the principle’s basically the same, right? Plus, Chicago can get pretty shady around here, and I don’t know my neighbors just yet. They could be lurkers, and watch me through my bedroom windows! Or maybe they’ll bring me some ‘Welcome Neighbor!’ meatloaf that’s actually loaded with poison. Then they’ll drag my body down in the cellar, and keep me as their sex slave.

Honestly though, I just think I’ve seen too many horror films.

Wow. I dropped my suitcase, hardly hearing the obnoxious clank it made, and took a step forward into the living room. Into my living room. This is so surreal, because I can do whatever I like. I can decorate however I want to. Now I have someplace to go after work that I can actually call my own, instead of checking into my hotel room. This just seems like such a big deal, and maybe it’s not, but it definitely is to me.

I think I officially consider myself an adult now. Even though I’ve already been eighteen for a couple months, I think this is the first time I’ve really proved to myself that I can handle being alone. I’m not relying on anybody else. I’m not using my mom’s money, racking up debt with a credit card, or living with someone else and paying half the rent. I’m not just some stupid kid who ran away when things got too hard to handle. I’m actually creating a life for myself, and this is a fucking amazing feeling that I hope I never lose.

I sat down on the hardwood floors in the living room, and sprawled myself out; a grin on my face. After about ten minutes of merely lying there, soaking everything in, I decided to get up so I could start exploring everything.

It was small, but I’ve been fine with that concept since the beginning. My bedroom was carpeted, and had a small walk in closet that I couldn’t wait to fill with a bunch of shit. Because it probably will be shit, but hey, it’ll be my shit.

The room almost reminded me of my old bedroom back in Oregon. Except that one was even smaller, and totally fucked up. I had patched up holes on my walls from times where I had gotten too angry, or too emotional about things that I try not to care about anymore. Old pictures of Blake and I were scattered along the floor, and in the top drawer of my green nightstand. Jesus, it’s weird to think about that place again.

I continued exploring, a dumbass smile never off of my face, and finished in less then ten minutes. This was your average apartment in the city of Chicago, really. There are probably hundreds exactly like this one. And it was all mine.

But there is one little problem that’s kind of hard to look past: this place is completely fucking empty. I don’t really think I can afford many things yet anyways, and I’m not even sure where to get furniture around here. So I’ll just have to deal with the lack of a bed for a while, then.

I’ll talk to Finn about it at work on Monday, because I bet he knows where to get some of the things that I need.

I bit my lip, debating on what to do next. Honestly, there wasn’t really much to choose from. The only things I could think of were sleep, or unpacking my suitcase; and the latter wasn’t at all appealing.

I looked out the window, my eyes taking in the view that I’d now see every single morning. It was beautiful, too. For a split second, I could just see myself waking up with a cup of coffee, and spending hours just watching the city beneath me. I shook my head, and sighed softly.

After a while of zoning out, I realized that I’d been standing for far too long, and now I was exhausted.

Sighing, I threw my sweatshirt over myself and curled up on the floor so that I could attempt to fall asleep for the night. Using my arm as a pillow, my cheek was pressed against the freezing cold floor.

Jesus, I bet I look fucking ridiculous. I hope my neighbors aren’t somehow watching me right now.

--

Carmel latte. Decaf coffee. Two teaspoons of sugar, extra whipped cream.

I swear to God, I make about thirty of those things every single day. And trust me, it gets old. I brought it back to the guy who had ordered it, who unfortunately wasn’t even the slightest bit attractive, and quickly returned back to the kitchen so that I could catch Finn.

“Hey, Finn?”

He looked up at me, and smiled. I swear, I rarely see him without one. It’s one of the things that I like most about him. Around him, I just automatically get into a good mood. “Yeah?”

“I was wondering if you could suggest some good places to get furniture around here,” I said.

He thought for a moment, and his eyebrows furrowed. “Did you finally get a place, or something?” I nodded, and he punched me on the shoulder.

“Ow, dickhead,” I grumbled, “What was that for?”

“When were you planning on telling me this?” Finn demanded.

“Finn, I’ve only lived there for about three days,” I pointed out, smirking at his reaction.

He ignored me, “Well, we can figure out your whole furniture deal later, because you know what? Zeke and I should come over for a little ‘Welcome Home’ party tomorrow night!”

I brightened up at the mention of Zeke, and felt myself immediately zone out. We’ve gotten to be a little closer since that night at his art show, which was amazing by the way. I see him practically everyday, because he’s always here to meet Finn after his shift. So I sometimes stick around, and hang out with them for a bit.

I’ve only known him for a little over three weeks, and I’m definitely . . . intrigued by him. There’s just something about him that’s so innocent, and I feel like I’m always constantly reminding myself that he’s actually older then me. It’s not that he’s immature, because I actually think he’s quite the opposite. It’s simply how shy Zeke can be around me, and how adorable he is.

I looked up at Finn, who thankfully was now taking an order, so he hadn’t noticed me suddenly become silent. I know him, and he probably would have given me shit for daydreaming about Zeke or something. “Welcome home party?” I repeated once he returned, “You sure that you’re not gay?” I teased.

He rolled his eyes, “You wish, homo.”

“I do, actually,” I returned, crossing my arms.

“Oh, I know,” he continued, “The way you stare at me when I’m bending over isn’t as discreet as you think it is,” Finn told me, laughing a bit.

“Damn it. So, when I kidnap you to have my way with you, will you be surprised, or not?”

“Nah, I’ve seen it coming since you first walked in here.”

“Really now? You’re perceptive,” I commented, finding it more and more difficult to keep a straight face.

“You’d be surprised.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” I sighed, “I usually go for the stupider types.”

“And why’s that?”

“Easier to get into my car.”

“So why am I an exception?” Finn questioned.

I shrugged, “You’re sexy, man.”

We both burst out laughing, and I struggled to shut myself up so none of the customers would complain. Because I definitely wouldn’t put it past any of them.

“Anyways,” I began, already not even remembering how we got sidetracked, “Back to what I was originally thinking: I’m just not sure if I want you guys to see it yet, you know what I mean? My place is so . . . empty. There is literally nothing inside. Zeke will think I’m some weird, fucked up kid or something like that.” It slipped out before I could think, and Finn smirked in response.

“Why does it matter what Zeke thinks?”

I pursed my lips, and glared at him. “I should get back to work. Asshole,” I added, and he let out some kind of cackle.

“Right, Marshall. Of course you should. You don’t want to start slacking, or anything.”

“Hey, I don’t slack. This job doesn’t even offer any chances for that.”

He laughed once more, and left to go greet someone at the front counter.

Finn makes this job so fucking awesome.