Status: Slowly in progress
Runaways
The Landlord
“What made you start painting?”
“Haven’t we already talked about this?” Lydia inquired with a laugh.
“No. You said you started painting at sixteen and that you liked art class,” Paul gently corrected with a growing smile. “Just because you liked a class in school, doesn’t always mean you take it up for a living.”
The pair have been playing a game of twenty questions for the last fifteen minutes while waiting on the landlord. Lydia accidentally locked herself out of her apartment and Paul took it upon himself to wait with her when he discovered her on the way back from the studio. Despite being exhausted, he was more than happy for the opportunity to be with her. Even if it meant sitting on a dirty hallway floor for who knows how long.
“It made me feel free,” Lydia confessed after a moment of contemplation. While she found it hard to share anything about herself to anyone but Jet, there was something about the fact he was not only paying attention to her, but actually listened and remembered as well that made her want to share some things with him. No matter how hard that tended to be.
He frowned and hesitantly asked, “Was this not something you often had?”
“No, not at all. My parents, especially my mother, controlled as much of my life growing up as they possibly could.”
“So, everything?”
“Yes. From the people I was friends with, to the clothes I wore and the diet I kept,” Lydia replied shakily. “That would later include my marriage.” As much as she hated to say it, a part of her felt he deserved to know something. If nothing else than to better understand her and what he was getting into by being her friend. And she didn’t want another repeat of his reaction to learning how young she was when she got married.
Paul inhaled sharply and squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying not to react negatively. Because he wanted to. He wanted to yell, to shout his anger from the rooftops, and then call her parents and scream at them. And the sad thing was, he didn’t even know the half of it. After taking a few minutes to compose himself, he asked, “Is this the first time you’ve been able to make choices for yourself?”
“Not entirely, but yes,” she replied honestly. “I would spend summers with my Grandparents and later my best friend, Jet, would also join in. That was the only time I had any real freedom. And then years later, after filing for divorce, I moved in with Jet for a while. She helped a lot.”
“You’ve been through so much already,” he muttered while scrubbing a hand across his face. Along with whatever she suffered at the hands of her ex-husband, it sounded like she endured even more with her own parents. Though this shouldn’t be particularly shocking as a few of his friends endured quite a lot at the hands of their own parents as well.
“But I’m not the only one.”
“God, I’m glad I never fucked up raising my kids.”
Lydia immediately sat up straight at that revelation. “You have kids?”
Paul flinched. Dammit. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Uh, yes.Two of them. Sorry, I uh, didn’t mean to blurt that out.”
She nodded slowly, trying to process exactly what he just said. She knew and was mostly okay with the fact that he was older than herself and was married at some point. But children never crossed her mind. Perhaps it should have though. He was considerably older than her and had already lived a good portion of his life. So of course he had children.
“You are older than them!” He was quick to reassure. And then a moment later, “How old are you again?”
She laughed despite herself. “This is so weird, isn’t it?”
“Maybe just a little.”
“Though, I suppose, if we are going to be friends, we should probably try getting over the weirdness,” she said with another laugh and an attempt at confidence.
“Oh?” Paul raised a brow. Despite her citing friendship, it somehow felt like she was talking about much more than that. Perhaps it was the tone of voice she used. While it was rather teasing, there was a hint of flirtiness to it that he’d yet to hear from her. Until now, that is.
“Mhmm. I mean, people will probably stare a lot considering the age difference is noticeable. That alone will bring its own brand of weirdness. But, you are a musician. So you must be used to having younger women around.”
His eyebrows practically shot up into his hairline. “And how do you know I’m a musician?”
“Do you not play the guitar you constantly have with you?”
He couldn’t help but start laughing at that. While she certainly wasn’t wrong there, she apparently had yet to figure out who he was in the music world. “Yes I am a musician. But there are no young women running around like you’re thinking.” Well, if you didn’t count the after concert parties.
Lydia grinned but didn’t say anything else. After talking a little bit about her life before Berlin, it felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest. While simultaneously a much smaller one was immediately put in its place with the worry she had said too much. But he didn’t seem to mind that part of their talk, so she was trying to repress that feeling as much as possible. It was sort of working.
“So, Mr. Musician, are you in a band?”
The sudden ding of the elevator doors opening saved Paul from having to answer. He was grateful but it also made him wonder if he should admit what he actually did for a living considering she made a big step today in talking about herself. And about such a big subject, too.
The clicking of heels and jiggling of keys indicated it to be their landlord. She was a tall, modelesk woman with brown hair and green eyes. She also had the attitude of almost every spoiled high society rich kid that Lydia grew up with.
“I do hope this does not happen again, Miss Stillwell. I cannot continue to come down here just to help you.” She also spoke exactly like Lydia’s mother.
“Of course. I promise it won’t happen again.” It wasn’t like this was the first time she had to call her or anything.
“You see to that.” She quickly unlocked the door and flashed Paul a sultry smile. “Hello, Paul.”
He resisted the urge to flinch and awkwardly smiled back. “Hello.”
She smirked and all but threw the door open and turned back to Lydia. “Have a lovely evening, Miss Stillwell.”
“You as well,” Lydia replied with the false smile she’d perfected over the years.
After a nod and a little wave in Paul’s direction, she sauntered down the hallway and back into the elevator. It wasn’t until the doors had closed did they both release a sigh of relief.
“Well that was creepy,” Lydia said with a wince. “Is she always like that with you?”
Paul nodded. “Since the day I moved in. If this place wasn’t so close to work I would have moved a long time ago.” Work being the main base his label used for album recordings.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
After a few minutes of silence that was beginning to get awkward, Lydia stood up and brushed off her pants. “Well, I should probably let you go take that nap now.”
He chuckled, “Don’t make me sound so old.” As if to prove a point, his knees noisily popped as he stood up. He chuckled at the accomplished look on her face. “But I am going to take a nap.”
She grinned and moved to stand in her doorway. “Goodnight, Paul.”
“Good afternoon,” he replied with a grin. It was a little after mid day, after all. “Have fun painting.” He was about halfway to his door before he paused and turned around, immediately filling with a strange warmth when he noticed she had yet to actually move into her apartment and was watching him instead. Well, might as well get this out in the open now. “When you get the time tonight, will you do something for me? Look up the name Paul Landers.”
Lydia frowned but nodded. That was a strange request but she was also a little curious as to why he would even ask that of her. Why would he want her to look up a name?
“Thank you,” Paul murmured before crossing the rest of the hall and entering his apartment. It wasn’t the most conventional way of telling her about himself, but it would work for now. He just hoped this wouldn’t scare her away.
“You are so strange,” she murmured into the empty hallway, a mix of fondness and confusion rolling through her. So very strange, indeed.
“Haven’t we already talked about this?” Lydia inquired with a laugh.
“No. You said you started painting at sixteen and that you liked art class,” Paul gently corrected with a growing smile. “Just because you liked a class in school, doesn’t always mean you take it up for a living.”
The pair have been playing a game of twenty questions for the last fifteen minutes while waiting on the landlord. Lydia accidentally locked herself out of her apartment and Paul took it upon himself to wait with her when he discovered her on the way back from the studio. Despite being exhausted, he was more than happy for the opportunity to be with her. Even if it meant sitting on a dirty hallway floor for who knows how long.
“It made me feel free,” Lydia confessed after a moment of contemplation. While she found it hard to share anything about herself to anyone but Jet, there was something about the fact he was not only paying attention to her, but actually listened and remembered as well that made her want to share some things with him. No matter how hard that tended to be.
He frowned and hesitantly asked, “Was this not something you often had?”
“No, not at all. My parents, especially my mother, controlled as much of my life growing up as they possibly could.”
“So, everything?”
“Yes. From the people I was friends with, to the clothes I wore and the diet I kept,” Lydia replied shakily. “That would later include my marriage.” As much as she hated to say it, a part of her felt he deserved to know something. If nothing else than to better understand her and what he was getting into by being her friend. And she didn’t want another repeat of his reaction to learning how young she was when she got married.
Paul inhaled sharply and squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying not to react negatively. Because he wanted to. He wanted to yell, to shout his anger from the rooftops, and then call her parents and scream at them. And the sad thing was, he didn’t even know the half of it. After taking a few minutes to compose himself, he asked, “Is this the first time you’ve been able to make choices for yourself?”
“Not entirely, but yes,” she replied honestly. “I would spend summers with my Grandparents and later my best friend, Jet, would also join in. That was the only time I had any real freedom. And then years later, after filing for divorce, I moved in with Jet for a while. She helped a lot.”
“You’ve been through so much already,” he muttered while scrubbing a hand across his face. Along with whatever she suffered at the hands of her ex-husband, it sounded like she endured even more with her own parents. Though this shouldn’t be particularly shocking as a few of his friends endured quite a lot at the hands of their own parents as well.
“But I’m not the only one.”
“God, I’m glad I never fucked up raising my kids.”
Lydia immediately sat up straight at that revelation. “You have kids?”
Paul flinched. Dammit. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Uh, yes.Two of them. Sorry, I uh, didn’t mean to blurt that out.”
She nodded slowly, trying to process exactly what he just said. She knew and was mostly okay with the fact that he was older than herself and was married at some point. But children never crossed her mind. Perhaps it should have though. He was considerably older than her and had already lived a good portion of his life. So of course he had children.
“You are older than them!” He was quick to reassure. And then a moment later, “How old are you again?”
She laughed despite herself. “This is so weird, isn’t it?”
“Maybe just a little.”
“Though, I suppose, if we are going to be friends, we should probably try getting over the weirdness,” she said with another laugh and an attempt at confidence.
“Oh?” Paul raised a brow. Despite her citing friendship, it somehow felt like she was talking about much more than that. Perhaps it was the tone of voice she used. While it was rather teasing, there was a hint of flirtiness to it that he’d yet to hear from her. Until now, that is.
“Mhmm. I mean, people will probably stare a lot considering the age difference is noticeable. That alone will bring its own brand of weirdness. But, you are a musician. So you must be used to having younger women around.”
His eyebrows practically shot up into his hairline. “And how do you know I’m a musician?”
“Do you not play the guitar you constantly have with you?”
He couldn’t help but start laughing at that. While she certainly wasn’t wrong there, she apparently had yet to figure out who he was in the music world. “Yes I am a musician. But there are no young women running around like you’re thinking.” Well, if you didn’t count the after concert parties.
Lydia grinned but didn’t say anything else. After talking a little bit about her life before Berlin, it felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest. While simultaneously a much smaller one was immediately put in its place with the worry she had said too much. But he didn’t seem to mind that part of their talk, so she was trying to repress that feeling as much as possible. It was sort of working.
“So, Mr. Musician, are you in a band?”
The sudden ding of the elevator doors opening saved Paul from having to answer. He was grateful but it also made him wonder if he should admit what he actually did for a living considering she made a big step today in talking about herself. And about such a big subject, too.
The clicking of heels and jiggling of keys indicated it to be their landlord. She was a tall, modelesk woman with brown hair and green eyes. She also had the attitude of almost every spoiled high society rich kid that Lydia grew up with.
“I do hope this does not happen again, Miss Stillwell. I cannot continue to come down here just to help you.” She also spoke exactly like Lydia’s mother.
“Of course. I promise it won’t happen again.” It wasn’t like this was the first time she had to call her or anything.
“You see to that.” She quickly unlocked the door and flashed Paul a sultry smile. “Hello, Paul.”
He resisted the urge to flinch and awkwardly smiled back. “Hello.”
She smirked and all but threw the door open and turned back to Lydia. “Have a lovely evening, Miss Stillwell.”
“You as well,” Lydia replied with the false smile she’d perfected over the years.
After a nod and a little wave in Paul’s direction, she sauntered down the hallway and back into the elevator. It wasn’t until the doors had closed did they both release a sigh of relief.
“Well that was creepy,” Lydia said with a wince. “Is she always like that with you?”
Paul nodded. “Since the day I moved in. If this place wasn’t so close to work I would have moved a long time ago.” Work being the main base his label used for album recordings.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
After a few minutes of silence that was beginning to get awkward, Lydia stood up and brushed off her pants. “Well, I should probably let you go take that nap now.”
He chuckled, “Don’t make me sound so old.” As if to prove a point, his knees noisily popped as he stood up. He chuckled at the accomplished look on her face. “But I am going to take a nap.”
She grinned and moved to stand in her doorway. “Goodnight, Paul.”
“Good afternoon,” he replied with a grin. It was a little after mid day, after all. “Have fun painting.” He was about halfway to his door before he paused and turned around, immediately filling with a strange warmth when he noticed she had yet to actually move into her apartment and was watching him instead. Well, might as well get this out in the open now. “When you get the time tonight, will you do something for me? Look up the name Paul Landers.”
Lydia frowned but nodded. That was a strange request but she was also a little curious as to why he would even ask that of her. Why would he want her to look up a name?
“Thank you,” Paul murmured before crossing the rest of the hall and entering his apartment. It wasn’t the most conventional way of telling her about himself, but it would work for now. He just hoped this wouldn’t scare her away.
“You are so strange,” she murmured into the empty hallway, a mix of fondness and confusion rolling through her. So very strange, indeed.