Runaways

Two weeks later saw Lydia settling nicely into her new apartment. She still occasionally saw her now mysterious neighbor Paul. He was constantly coming and going at all hours and he always had his guitar with him. She was still debating on whether he gave lessons or if he was in a band. Though it didn’t matter to her either way. And yet she still thought about it, or rather him, all the time. They’d only had a handful of conversations but he was constantly on her mind. And she didn’t like it.

After the disaster that was her marriage to a one Alexander Dupont, Lydia swore off men. Be it for a few years or for the rest of her life. She didn’t care which. Just as long as they were gone and she didn’t have to deal with them. It had been two years since the separation and almost a full year since the divorce was finalized and she was going strong. But now there was Paul. A man who has been nothing but a sweetheart and a gentleman in the few times they actually talked. And it confounded her to no end. Part of her wanted to believe he was being genuine and meant no harm. But the other, much larger, part of her was waiting for the other shoe to drop the more they interacted. Because men like Paul just didn’t exist, right?

Unfortunately, Alexander had left a lasting impression. And a rather nasty one at that.

Lydia was introduced to the Dupont family through her mother. Mrs. Stillwell and Mrs. Dupont had been friends since their private high school days. Apart they were insufferable women with an iron tight grip on their supposed loved ones. But together? They were a fiendish duo who could inspire the most rotten and evil of villains to be more creative. So of course they just had to be related by a marriage through their children.

Right away, Lydia knew that Alexander was a man she’d hate for the rest of her life. Around others he was charming and polite. Some lesser known people would even refer to him as a gentleman. He wasn’t even close. In private were where his true colors shone bright. He was vain, arrogant, cruel, greedy, and down right despicable. He did take after his mother, after all.

By the time everything was said and done, their marriage lasted seven years. Lydia would forever refer to it as the worst time in her life. And that included living with her parents. Not even her own mother could compare to the damage Alexander so easily, and oftentimes happily, inflicted. And that was saying something.

Mr. and Mrs. Stillwell no longer talked to or associated with their daughter after her divorce was finalized. Most of the family found it disgraceful. A black mark on their otherwise perfect line. The only ones that cared anymore were her Grandparents. And she was perfectly fine with that.

Currently Lydia was loading new paint supplies and canvas into the apartment complex elevator. The move and unpacking process had left her rattled enough that painting just wasn’t in the cards. But now that she was as relaxed as she was going to get, it was time to start back up. And she was immensely excited to do so.

While she no longer had a room to dedicate to her painting, she figured the living room would work just fine. It was by far the biggest and most open space in the apartment. And it wasn’t like the floors would be hard to clean if she spilled anything. She’d long since learned how to clean paint off of or out of just about anything. Plus she bought a rather large drop cloth, just in case.

"I didn't know you painted."

Lydia gave out a shriek and jumped, almost dropping a bag filled with paint in the process. She quickly spun around to see a surprised, and then incredibly guilty looking Paul.

"I'm so sorry," he said while walking up to the elevator entrance. "I was making noise and thought you heard me. I really didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry."

She nodded and took a few deep calming breaths. She truly hadn't heard anything before he spoke up. "It's alright."

"I'm sorry," he breathed out again. He really hadn't meant to scare her. He'd noticed her loading a few bags into the elevator when he entered the building and walked noisily up to it, making sure his heavy boots made plenty of noise in an effort not to startle when he finally said something. But all of his efforts were in vain.

"It's really okay," she assured while trying to force a smile.

Paul frowned and shook his head, another apology on the tip of his tongue. Something told him this really wasn't okay. He previously noticed that she was skittish from time to time, like a previously abused cat that really didn't want to trust it's new family, no matter how sweetly they treated it. So any time they talked he did his best not to do anything that might seem harmful. It seems he failed.

"No guitar?" She was desperate to change the subject and tried the first thing she noticed.

"Oh. Um, yes," he frowned. He knew what she was doing and he didn’t like it but he'd let it go since she didn't want to linger on it. "No guitar today." Till had grumpily called a meeting at six in the morning and he'd been too tired to even think to grab it. And it wasn't like he needed it anyway. Some producer was displeased with something or another, so most of the morning was spent in meetings.

Lydia nodded and sat her last bag on the elevator floor. "Are you going up?"

"I am."

She waved him in. "Come on then."

He was quick to enter and push the button for their floor. "Have you been painting long?"

"Oh yes," she chuckled. "I used to love art. It was my favorite class in school, actually. But I didn't truly take up painting as something to do until I was about, oh, seventeen, I think?" That sounded about right. Her parents had hounded her not to do it for years so it took longer than it should have to pursue.

He nodded and the rest of the ride up to the sixth floor was spent in silence. Borderline awkward silence. As soon as they reached their stop they were quick to unload everything into the hallway, despite Lydia's initial protests that she really didn't need help and Paul insisting on it to make up for scaring her, and then lugging everything into her apartment.

"Thank you for the help."

Paul flashed her a grin. "You're welcome." He glanced around her apartment long enough to take note of how different the layout was to his own, kitchen on the right with a door next to it and the living room on the left with another door. She had minimal furniture, making the space appear more open, the center wall had two large windows that flooded the room with light and added to the openness. "I'll leave you to it then."

She laughed a little and nodded. "Thanks." She walked him to the door and paused when he stopped just outside.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

He suddenly looked awkward again as he began rubbing the back of his neck. "I know we don't know each other well and we only talk in passing. But I was wondering, would you like to go out sometime?" There. He said it. His thoughts were finally out in the open.

Lydia frowned and bit her lip, a strange kind of sorrow filling her veins. "Oh. Paul, I. Um," she sighed and shook her head. "Well, I just..." She couldn't find the right words to both explain things and reject him. And that last thought hurt, surprisingly enough. Though she didn't want to acknowledge it, deep down there was a part of her that wanted to accept his offer without hesitation. And with more than a little bit of enthusiasm.

He frowned and did his best to mask his disappointment. Of course she didn't want to go out with him. "I'm sorry."

"No, no. Please don't apologize. I...I really…" Dammit. This wasn't working. She just needed to tell him the truth. But it was so hard to get the right words out.

"Is it the age thing?"

"No. That uh, I got over that thought pretty quickly," she confessed with more than a bit of embarrassment. It had taken about a day for her to realize that didn't matter. "It's me."

"Don't do that," Paul groaned. "Please don't use that classic excuse."

A slight laugh bubbled up before Lydia could suppress it. "I'm not. But it really does have to do with me." She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I'm divorced, Paul."

A look of understanding suddenly overtook the disappointment. "That's alright. I understand that. It took me a long time to start dating again after my own divorce." At least it wasn't the age difference that still occasionally plagued his thoughts that was keeping her from wanting to go out.

She nodded and bit at her lip again in thought. It was probably selfish but she still wanted to ask, "I know how this is going to sound and I'm sorry for that, but um, could we try being friends? I know that's not really what you had in mind but I'd still like to get to know you."

A grin appeared on his face before he could stop it. While it wasn't what he originally wanted, he was actually okay with it. He still got to be around her and being friends sounded nice. "I like that idea." He also liked the fact this didn't sound like a complete rejection, no matter how much of a jerk that made him both feel and sound like.

Lydia sighed in relief and visibly relaxed. “Great. Okay, friends it is.” It was a scary thought, being friends with him. But it was also one that made her happy. And a part of her wanted to pursue that, no matter how frightening it was. Because not everyone was like Alexander. It was just hard to remember that most of the time.

Paul nodded, wide grin still present. “I’ll leave you to your painting.” He watched her nod before finally leaving for his own apartment. Once inside he did a little happy dance.

This felt like a huge development to him. Not only had she agreed to be friends but she’d actually shared a few things about herself. And if he really thought back on it, her behavior made sense. In a way, at least. Her hesitancy towards most interaction stemmed from what he guessed was a rather unpleasant marriage and later divorce. And he could understand that. He’d not only been married twice but had been in many relationships over the years, both good and bad. Truthfully, he was a bit upset at himself for not noticing and connecting the dots sooner.

And while he would of liked to take her out on dates, he was fine with taking her out as a friend. She probably didn’t have many of them considering she was new to Berlin, let alone Germany. There was nothing wrong with starting out a friendship, anyway. And if it became something more then so be it. And even if it didn’t, at least he made a new friend and hopefully made someone's transition here a bit easier.

Back in her apartment, Lydia was sitting slumped against her door, having an internal crisis. She wanted to be happy to include Paul in her short list of friends, it literally consisted of Jet and her Grandparents, but her mind was also screaming at her not to get attached or put herself in a situation like what she had to endure with Alexander. Her mind was also reminding her about how she could see right through his little nice act the second they met and she didn’t get that feeling with Paul. And if he did somehow turn out that way then he was a damn good actor.

There was a third voice though, small and nagging at the back of her mind, that was chastising her for rejecting his offer of dating. This would be the first time that she not only found someone appealing enough to date, but actually wanted to. Her mother picked out every boyfriend for her. She never picked anyone for herself. And now that she finally had the chance to be with someone of her own choosing, she rejects them.

She desperately wanted to smother this third voice with a large pillow. Because she knew, no matter how much she tried to deny it, that this voice was right. But some wounds didn’t go away that easy and she was still feeling the affects of this one.

Heaving a sigh, she stared at her new paint supplies for a minute before slowly getting up. Maybe she could work through her thoughts by painting. It had certainly worked before. And while she knew it wouldn’t fix everything, it was still worth a shot. So she put her record player to use, unpacked her paint supplies and got to work.

It wasn’t until she was halfway through with the eyes, however, did Lydia realize she was painting a portrait of Paul.