Miserable at Best

I stared out the windshield window at the white house that stood before me. It was quaint, average in size, compared to the houses at it's sides, it blended in. It was nothing of what I imagined my house to be like, but that was before I found out that I had an arranged marriage. That was before everything in my life changed.

Alex shut off the engine, exiting the car, going to the rear of the car popping open the trunk grabbing my bags of clothes. I took one last look at the house, sighed, and pushed the door open, standing outside of the car. I could hear Alex's footsteps, until he stood next to me, "Come on, the inside is way better."

He continued past me, holding my bags and made his way to the front porch, unlocking the door. I sighed, this was it, this was my life. Wife of Pop Punk band boy, Alex Gaskarth. I looked up at the sky, it was a gloomy day, I hadn't seen the sun since I arrived, it made me think of home. The sun shining down on your skin was rare, where the clouds were among the normal and anticipated. I shook thoughts of home far from my mind, and made my way into the house.

Alex was right, the inside was completely better than the outside. The outside of the house did not do the inside of the house justice at all. The entry way alone was so elegant, it seemed like a mansion, where you loved everything inside of it, but were too afraid to actually touch it.

Closing the door behind me I made note that Alex was no where to be seen. I bit my lip as I stood awkwardly in the entry way, curiousity had obviously gotten the better of me as I walked into what seemed to be the living room. It looked like Alex lived in his living room as I saw empty bottles of beer, popcorn on the floor, socks on furniture, and an actual condom wrapper on the floor. I wouldn't be sitting on the couch until they had been professionally cleaned.

Messes always had been a pet peeve of mine. Whether they were mine, or someone else's I felt the need to clean up after them. It was a habit of mine, a weird one to say the least. I walked around the couch the formed an L shape and grabbed the trashcan from the kitchen in the room over and started to clean. I had picked up all the beer bottles when Alex bounded down the stairs, calling out, "Brook?"

"In here." I replied as I continued to clean the living room.

"What're you doing?" he asked in shock.

I straightened up and turned to look at him, "I'm cleaning your mess."

His brown eyes burned into my own eyes, "I can see that..But why? It's only been five minutes and your cleaning?"

"Messes are my pet peeve, I can't stand them. When I see one I have the urge to clean."

"Well stop, rule number one for you, you don't need to clean, we have someone who comes in every other day to clean up, okay?" he told you as he made his way over to you, taking the trash can away from you.

We; that was weird. To think that by we, he meant him and I.

"Can you atleast pick that up?" I asked him as he set down the trash can in the kitchen.

He walked over and saw what I meant, "Oh yeah, uh sorry about that."

From what I had just now cleaned up, Alex had some habits. Alcohol and sex. Both things that I wasn't into. Unlike other teens my age, I still had her v-card, and didn't drink on the weekends, or at parties, never. I must've looked like I was lost in thought when Alex called me back to reality when he said, "This is going to be harder than expected."

I looked at him skeptically, not knowing what to say.

He adjusted the red hat on his head to sit lopsided, and looked at me, and asked, "Do you love me?"