Glitter

My first impression of the man wasn't much, I'll have to admit.

Discovering a strange drunk lying next to a pool of his vomit would do things to that. He had on some sort of beanie and a trench coat that was buttoned up to his chin. Had he been lying on the side walk, at that same hour, I probably would have just stepped over his body and walked right on. When you live alone in a strange country, you have to learn a few things about survival and empathy.

But he hadn't.

He had taken to passing out right on my doorstep; curling up in a foetal ball on the recently new Welcome mat. The brown puddle of sick that lay next to his head made me want to gag.

Standing as far away from the heap as I possibly could, I unlocked the door; took the necessary step into the apartment and turned around to face the man again.

He had dark hair, or dark-ish, it was difficult to tell in the light, and a long angular face. If he hadn't been reeking of alcohol and vomit, I probably would have classed him on the cute side of the spectrum. But as it was, in all his strange, slightly annoying, wasted glory - all he really looked was pathetic.

I watched him for a few minutes more before making my decision.

"Hey!" Foot moving forward, I poked him in the shoulder. He didn't move. I tried again.

"Hey, get up!"

No response.

Then, the idea hit. Water worked well in situations like this, right?

A few minutes and a pot of water later, I was standing over him again; peering down at the cute-pathetic face.

"Wake up!" I yelled, and dumped the icy contents over his head. If you've ever seen an unguarded squirrel jump at the sight of a cat then you could most probably picture his reaction once I had.

"What in the fuck!" he yelled. Jumping to his feet, he stumbled a few steps before falling down again. I just leaned against the doorway and watched him. After a few minutes of complete confusion, he got up, turned back around and faced me. "Who the fuck are you?" he spat. It was pretty easy to guess that he wasn't one of those cheery, happy as a chip morning people. I shot him a look and then pointed to the floor.

"You come to my doorstep, vomit on my new doormat and ask me that question?" I asked. I must have sounded mad because after looking down at the throw-up, he glanced back up at me red faced, "That was me?"

I rolled my eyes, "No, it was the invisible man."

He blushed again.

The awkward moment of silence that followed made me uneasy. "Look, don't come here again. Go knock out somewhere else, okay?"

He rubbed his earlobe sheepishly and nodded silently before turning to leave. "Hey," I called out, pointing at the soiled mat, "take that with you."

"Right." He muttered. Carefully, embarrassed, he gathered the green thing, rolled it together and walked away. I waited for him to reach the Exit before turning into the apartment and shutting the door behind me.

The thought that cemented itself into my brain when I did contrasted against the indifference and slight annoyance that filled me.

Brown eyes, I realized, he had brown eyes.



I hadn't expected him to come back so soon, or at all really. Life made sense like that. People didn't go back to places they'd just thrown up drunk in, or something equally deplorable. They avoided those places like the plague.

But Alex was not just "people", and as I soon found out, nothing about him was as predictable as he liked most people to believe he was.

He was leaning against the side of my apartment building when I first walked up; dressed in dark jeans and a hoodie. It surprised me, noticing him there, and I had never been one for surprises. Grabbing my handbag closer, I slipped my fingers in for the can of pepper spray in it and cradled it comfortably on my palm. If stranger person had any intentions of doing something untoward, then he'd deserve what was coming alright.

Nerves shot from work and more than a little frazzled around the edges - all the hooded shadow had to do was take a step towards me before my Mace was out and spraying. Judging from the string of curses that he yelled out, I was pretty sure I'd gotten him where it hurt the most.

"Stop!" he screamed, smacking the spray can out of my hand.

I watched it fall to the concrete pavement, did a quick mental calculation and spun on my heel. The ball of my knee hit him square in the gut and I couldn't help but grin a little when he doubled over.

"What the fuck are you doing? Stop attacking me!" he screamed again.

For some reason known only to God and all things holy, I actually did stop.

"What do you want?" I hissed instead, fingers curling around the handles of my purse. "I've been trained on how to use my handbag as a weapon, so don't you dare do anything funny."

His dark head shook and the hood he'd been wearing fell off. I noticed then how straight his hair was, and the odd style it had been brushed into. It looked something like Justin Bieber's hair, only longer. And it was then that the recognition hit. It was the guy, from a few nights ago - the same guy who'd done a good job of ruining my new welcome mat.

"I won't, I swear."

And the handbag fell to my side. "What do you want from me? Haven't you done enough damage already?"

He stumbled a little, then straightened. Eyeing the bag warily, he pointed to me. "I'm sorry about that, okay? But I thought you were Nora, and I need to talk to her."

I frowned when I heard him say my flat mate's name. What business did he have with Nora?

"She's not here right now."

"Well, do you know when she's going to come back?"

I shook my head.

"Okay then. Well, would it be okay with you if I just waited around here for her?"

I gave him a thorough once over before contemplating the thought for a few minutes. There were no pros or cons in letting him stay for a little while and so I had nothing to lose, or gain. I was pretty sure that he wouldn't do anything stupid, and if he did, I had my poorly formed hapkido skills at the ready.

Looking back up at his face, I shrugged. "Okay, fine. You can stay, but I swear to God if you..."

His hands came up in front of him, "I won't, honestly."

Rolling my eyes, I turned around, unlocked the front door and walked in, not checking to see whether he was following or not. The 'ouch' that he gave when the door swung shut behind me was enough to confirm that he was.

"I'm Alex," he said matter-of-factly, as if his name actually meant something to me. I didn't respond. "I think now's the time that you tell me your name and apologise for hitting me."

Stopping momentarily, I glanced quickly at him, incredulous.

"I will not apologise for something that I had every right to do. You snuck up on me in a dark alleyway so what did you expect me to do?"

His face was the perfect picture of shock and surprise.

"I don't know; at least say hi or something?"

The sight of my apartment door and number had me smiling as it always did after a long day waiting on tables and cleaning rooms.

Home sweet home.

"I don't speak to strangers," I told him flatly before sliding the key into the lock. He followed me into the apartment, still talking. I ignored him the whole time. It was only until I had reached the kitchen when I turned to him - "Do you want a drink or something?"

He turned around to face me. He was standing in the middle of the living room when he did.

"Sure, what do you have? Bacardi? Jim Beam?"

I made a face, "Hm, let's see ... coffee or, yeah, coffee."

"You're a sarcastic little bugger, aren't you?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him.

"I hope Nora gets back quickly," he said, looking around himself. I tried not to feel self conscious at the way that he was doing this. This flat was my baby. It was all I had. Well, yeah, I might have shared it with Nora but still ... all I had. I never had people over because having them see just how modestly I was living made me uncomfortable.

Watching him take a seat on one of the cushions that lined the small, carpeted square on the floor, I set the kettle on before turning back to watch him.

I hope she does, too.