Runaways

“And how’s that going for you?”

“It’s fine,” Paul assured. “Really. It’s better than I could have hoped for.” She confessed to having some form of feelings for him. What more could he ask for? Well, there were a few things, actually. But he was fine with this. Moving at Lydia’s pace was exactly what they needed.

Till made a noise of acknowledgement and followed his friend into the apartment building and the elevator. “It really doesn’t bother you that there may be no future there?”

“Of course. I’m not getting any younger here and the thought of just waiting around for the rest of my life isn’t great. But I still want to do this. I want to move at her pace and let her get comfortable. She’s been through a lot, you know? Pushing her would just make it worse.” And that was the last thing he wanted.

“Perhaps you and Richard really have grown up. Here you are putting someone else’s comfort above your own and he’s letting things grow in time instead of rushing into it.”

Paul rolled his eyes at his friends teasing but made no move to argue because he was right. They were both being patient and doing things correctly for a change. “What about you? How’s your love life?”

“None existent,” Till laughed. “I decided to let the album be my main focus. For now, at least. But after we’re done recording,” he shrugged, “there is someone I have my eye on.” Though admiring her from afar instead of making a move was a high possibility. Even after all these years his shyness sometimes got in the way of his own happiness.

“That’s very mature of you.”

“Not really. I just don’t want to be with her if I can’t give her my full attention.” And the chances of that were slim considering how packed his schedule tended to be. “We’ll see what happens when the album is finished.” As soon as he finished speaking the elevator dinged and the doors opened. “Get your keys out, would you? This bag is getting heavy.”

Paul chuckled, “You were the one who insisted on carrying it.” Nevertheless he still began fishing the keys out of his pocket while exiting the elevator. “That bag can’t be that heavy. We didn’t buy that much.” They got just enough for a special dish. Though with Till’s rampant appetite, there probably was enough in the bag to make it heavy after a while.

“Paul?”

“Hmm?”

“There is a young lady sitting in front of your door and she appears to be crying.”

“What?” Paul nearly dropped his keys when he saw who his friend was talking about. “Lydia!” She was on the ground in front of his door, curled up with her arms wrapped around her knees, tears streaming down her face and he was pretty sure she was shaking.

At the sound of her name she looked up and shakily wiped her tears, confirming his suspicions, and croaked, “Paul.” She’d been sitting there for an embarrassing amount of time.

He was quick to rush over to her while Till stood a good ways behind to observe and not frighten her further. Because right now, she looked a lot like the scared animals he used to befriend and tame growing up. She just needed someone to sooth her troubles and it looked like his friend was doing a good job of that.

Paul knelt down in front of her and gently grasped her hand while wiping away her tears with the other. “What happened?”

“I thought I saw him,” she confessed. “I thought I saw Alexander on the way home.”

“Are you sure it was him?”

“Not completely. I turned around and this man was walking behind me. He looked so much like him and then the flashbacks started.” Lydia shuddered, “I ran back here as fast as I could.”

“Why didn’t you hide in your apartment?” He asked gently.

She suddenly looked embarrassed. “I wasn’t sure that he didn’t have someone waiting for me so I came to you instead.” Almost unconsciously she picked Paul as her safe haven. “I’m sorry. I should of called Jet and talked to her about it instead of just waiting here.” A fresh round of tears appeared when she noticed Till and the guilt began to sit in. “And you have a guest. I’m so sorry, Paul.”

“It’s alright,” Paul quickly soothed. “I’m not worried about that. What I’m worried about is you. Why don’t we go to your place and check it out and make sure it’s safe, okay?” In a way, he was thrilled she trusted him. But he also felt incredibly guilty that he wasn’t there for her when she needed him most.

“And I will start on dinner,” Till interjected. He had a feeling Lydia would of protested the help if he didn’t say anything. “Pass me the keys, would you Paul?” At his request his friend carefully tossed up the keys, still in the same kneeling position.

“I’m sorry.”

Till shook his head and gave his most gentle smile, “It’s alright. How about you join us for dinner and we properly introduce ourselves then, hmm?”

After receiving an encouraging nod from Paul, she agreed. The guitarist gently pulled her up to stand while Till went into his apartment. He then took her hand and slowly led her over to her own door. Afterwards keys were requested and put in his worn but capable hands. Paul then entered the apartment first and took a look around to find it empty, just as he suspected.

“All clear.”

“Thank you.”

Paul flashed a gentle but encouraging smile. “I’m happy to help you in any way I can.”

"I'm really sorry about all this," Lydia murmured. The horror and embarrassment was beginning to set in again. She knew that she should of waited in her own apartment when it was clear that Paul wasn't home. But in the heat of the moment, all she could think about was him. The one man on the planet, besides her grandfather, that made her feel safe.

"You don't need to apologies. I'm," he frowned and shook his head, "I'm sorry if this comes out wrong given the circumstances, but I'm happy you trust me."

"I think I've trusted you for a while. I just didn't want to admit it," she confessed while crossing her arms and shrugging. "It's scary to admit something like that."

"I know. But I'm really proud of you."

"Oh. Th-thank you."

He flashed another gentle, but still very charming, smile. "How about you freshen up and join us for dinner? I can finally introduce you to Till."

"He's your lead singer, right?"

"He is."

"Oh no," Lydia groaned. "I made such a horrible first impression. My mother would kill me." Or at the very least slap her a few times. Mrs. Stillwell always took first introductions very seriously.

"Don't worry about that. He's not that kind of person. The most he's probably concerned about is whether or not you're okay," Paul quickly assured. If Till didn't like her, he wouldn't of invited her to dinner. Well, he might actually. If only to keep peace. But this wasn't quite that sort of situation. And his friends had been pushing to meet her anyway.

"Okay," she murmured after a moment. "I'll be right back." At his nod of confirmation, she quickly left for her bedroom.

While waiting he glanced around again, this time noticing a painting she had sitting up on an easel. It was an abstract work with swirls and designs of blue, black, deep purples and rich reds. While he was by no means an expert in that kind of art, he still thought it looked nice. Lydia was really talented. It didn’t take being an art critic to know that.

By the time she exited her bedroom, Paul was almost leaning into the painting, having noticed more and more details the longer he stared at it. He’d even begun to raise his hand to touch it, wondering if some of the brush strokes were as rough as they looked.

“Please don’t touch that.”

He all but jumped back. “Sorry.”

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just, well it’s an oil painting and those take way too long to dry. It would of stained your fingers,” she said, a bit embarrassed by her abrupt admonishment.

Unfortunately Paul stopped paying attention about halfway through her speech, as he finally turned from the painting and noticed what she had changed into. A dark blue dress that hugged her torso in all the right places before billowing out at her hips and ending just past her knees. It looked like it would flare up around her legs and reveal a rather lovely amount of skin if she did a twirl. It also had the lowest neckline he had yet to see on her. While it wasn’t anything scandalous by any means, it was still more than he regularly seen. And he was completely entranced.

“Is this okay? I know it’s just dinner between the three of us but I thought I might try and make up for earlier. I know you said he wouldn’t care but I still wanted to try. My mother would throw a fit if I didn’t,” Lydia rambled on, completely oblivious to the guitarist’s staring. Well, until the silence stretched on for an incredibly long time with him just looking at her. “Paul?”

The sound of his name finally pulled him out of it. “Huh? Oh. Uh, you look good.” He cleared his throat and looked away, a blush rising. “Good. Very good.”

She couldn’t fight down a smile when she noticed he was blushing. That was a nice surprise. He didn’t do that often. “Thank you.”

He nodded, “Shall we?”

“Yes please.”

He grinned and gently took her hand, making sure to kiss the back of it, and lead her back to his apartment. Till happily greeted them upon entry.

“Welcome back. Is everything alright now?” He asked, genuinely concerned. He was also making an effort to be outgoing and friendly despite his shyness. Something both parties greatly appreciated, especially his long time friend who knew just how difficult that could be for him at times.

“Yes, thank you. I’m sorry about earlier,” Lydia apologized.

“It’s alright,” Till assured before deciding to tease her a bit. “The dress more than makes up for it.”

“Oh,” She blushed. That was definitely not something she expected to hear. Beside her, Paul groaned and shook his head. He gently squeezed her hand before letting go and walking into the kitchen.

“Do you have to tease her?”

Till grinned at her and shrugged. “If I did not tease her, how would you know I liked her, hmm? I tease because I care and approve.”

She blushed an even deeper shade of red at that. She certainly didn’t expect any kind of approval from the man. Especially not with how they first met earlier.

"Have you ever been to Paul's place before?"

"I have not." More often than not he came to hers or they met up somewhere.

"It's a nice place, isn't it?"

"Yes. It's very nice."

"Makes you want to just move in, doesn't it?" Till asked with a grin.

“I would like to say the rest of the band won’t be like this but they probably will.”

“They might be worse.”

Paul sighed and nodded in agreement. “They might be worse.” He turned to Lydia and gestured to the bar stools sitting at the little island in the kitchen. “We might as well sit and watch him cook.”

Lydia nodded and followed him. He surprised her by pulling out the stool for her and careful scooting it back in place once she was seated. “Thank you.” She rather enjoyed him being a gentlemen.

He nodded and moved to pull out the stool beside her but paused when he noticed her feet resting against one of the wooden poles. “You are not wearing shoes.”

“Oh!” She gasped, having not noticed it. She'd slipped out of her shoes earlier when she changed clothes and forgot to put on another pair. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize. I’m so used to being around the apartment barefoot.”

“It’s fine,” he rushed out. Her being barefoot didn’t bother him. He found it rather cute, actually. What he’d actually taken notice of were her toe nails being painted black. He’d never seen the color on her before. “You paint your nails.”

“I do,” she said slowly, unsure of the significance.

“They’re black,” he croaked out.

“They are.”

“It looks go on you.”

“Thank you. It’s not a color I normally wear,” Lydia admitted with a faint blush. Any time he gave her compliments, no matter how random, they always made her flush.

“You’re welcome,” Paul replied in a strained voice.

Till snickered from his spot by the stove. If something as simple as her painting her nails black got Paul so worked up, then tonight was going to be very interesting. Even if he had to point out random things about her to get his friend to croak like that again.