Asystole ✷ Mark Sloan

𝟬𝟮𝟮 love thy neighbour

𝙓𝙓𝙄𝙄.
LOVE THY NEIGHBOUR

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THE FIRST NIGHT in my apartment was exactly a week later.

I'd successfully moved in all of my clutter and was seriously considering a long haul trip to the local IKEA to make up for things I didn't have. A short trip to Walmart had been rather fruitful, however: I'd picked up a sofa bed, a few stools for the counters in the kitchen and adopted a fake plant for my dining table. 

I'd had to pay for a taxi, which hadn't been the best idea, and only fuelled a sudden desire to make more progression. My next step, I figured, was to achieve what I'd wanted all those years ago in New York: to finally drive. But for now, I had my apartment.

My apartment. I had an apartment.

I had an annual lease, which although it made me uneasy to go into such a commitment, I was beginning to admire. I liked the thought of having somewhere I could call my own and the longer I stood there and looked around, the more I began to like it. 

A slow smile spanned across my face and I tilted my head to the side; huh, maybe Seattle wasn't too shabby.

The thought of having something that I call my own made me giddy; my belongings were long folded away into draws and a couple of books that I'd bought from a kitschy bookstore were piled on the beginnings of a bookcase. 

I already had my new keys on my dining table and a cup of coffee in my hand. Meredith had been generous to give me her coffee machine, her reasoning had been that no one ever really used it anyway (apparently Alex lived off of espressos from Starbucks and Meredith just used the hospital canteen for everything and anything) and that it would act as a somewhat housewarming gift. 

I appreciated it a lot and had my first cup ready under an hour after she'd first visited my apartment.

"It's nice." Was what she'd said moments after waltzing through the door; she'd come bundled in clothes from the chilly weather and had taken her boots off on the doormat. I'd beamed from ear to ear, proud of myself. I'd then asked her if she wanted something to drink and she'd returned the smile. "Of course—uh, an orange juice, thanks."

"Thank you, by the way." I'd rambled, crossing the kitchen to swing open my new fridge. "For everything—" I grabbed a glass and a large plastic decanter of orange juice and poured one for the each of us, waving my hands expressively as I did so. "I really appreciate the coffee machine and the whole lodging..."

Meredith had seldom smiled as she accepted the glass of juice I passed her.

"You're welcome, Beth." She had a warmth in her voice that reminded me so strongly of the days were Addison had been able to look me in the eye without flinching. "That's what family does for one another—"

Another thing that enthralled me about Seattle was family, that was something I'd been so estranged from that it felt alien to think about. 

From the moment I'd set foot in this city, Derek had been accommodating and Meredith had fallen into step behind him. Addison had always joked that both of us were married to Derek and I could still see what she meant in a way. I cared deeply about Derek, he was like my second older brother- one that was far younger and less likely to eat dodgy worm-riddled fruit, apparently- and my experience in Seattle had only shown that Derek felt the same way.

Family. The only one missing was Amy.

As I cradled my coffee in my empty apartment and sat on an armchair, resting my head against the back of a bolster cushion, I couldn't help but wonder about her.