Reaching Insanity (Matt Smith fanfic)

Part 4

Life was like this for the next four days. On Friday, there was a slight alter to my story with Matt. Everyday he'd go to work( since I start classes Monday ) and I'd be home, until he got back around 9 each night. Then we'd have small talk and retreat to our individual bed rooms. But on Friday night, it rained.

The keys clicked in the door just before another crack of thunder let out, a bright streak scraping the sky. The noise broke loose as he swung himself into the house, then muted as the front door suctioned closed again.

"Bloody hell, that's a storm!" He practically shouted, shaking his head sending a rain of water down onto the hard wood, "ahhhh bloody hell.." He muttered again as he took off his jacket and umbrella tossing both to the floor by the doorway. His face was grim with discomfort that looked a bit shocked to look up and see me sitting sideways in the big leather chair, decked in sweats, my hands wrapped tightly around one of his thickest mugs. He took a second as if he forgot that I was here.

"Oh hello..." He kind of whispered, clearly embarrassed at his outburst. "It's raining..." He whispered shyly, jerking his thumb backward towards the window, jus as another crack of thunder roared out, he ducked quickly at the noise. I stifled a laugh. "What? You're practically silent all these days, and now you have something to laugh at?" He half smiled, still clearly embarrassed.

"It's just... You're afraid of storms?" I calmly said trying not to laugh at the lanky man.

"not afraid I jus-" another crack and yet again, he jerks down as if about to be slapped by the storm itself. Then, I roll back in laughter in my chair. "Oh quiet you! There weren't that many storms back where I lived in London..." He sighed, running a hand through his quickly drying hair. I held my breathe, then snorted out laughter that seemed to ring through the empty house, soon enough he joined me. We were both just loosing it after these past awkwardly tense days.

Then the house went completely black.

And we too fell silent. "Shit." Matt whispered through the pitch black living room. I jumped up, practically falling from the chair. Storm, I can handle, storm in the pitch dark. Absolutely NOT.

I heard Matt stumbling over things as well, I cursed under my breath as I hit my knee against the coffee table.

"Aurora?"

"Yeah?" I called back at him, the house seemed bigger now that it was dark... He seemed forever away.

"Walk towards my voice, don't hurt yourself now."

I stumbled around until I felt two hands grasp my biceps. "There you are," he sighed and squeezed my shoulders. "Now where are those bloody candles." I scooted along the house with him, glad that he knows it well enough not to run us into anything. Soon enough he whispers, "hold on." I feel him squat down... A few clicks chirp in he silence. And then a flicker of life, he rises a candle held close to a wide smile. "Found 'em,"

"I figured that." I snicker back.

After about 10 minuets the house is lit with many candles, different shapes of shadows and smells fill the house, we find ourselves on the couch together, him at one arm me at the other. Eating from a box of Oreos, as that is the only thing here that doesn't need to be cooked. After a few minuets of silence...

"Are you going to bed soon?" I whisper.

"I don't believe so."

"Do you work tomorrow?"

"No."

"Oh... Okay." I awkwardly feel my conversation come to a dead end.... A few more moments of silence.

"We don't have to whisper..." He whispered back, we laugh again. His laugh his nice... It rings, echoing from the high ceilings. I catch myself listening too closely to his voice, straining forward to here his thick as honey accent.

"It's kinda nice having someone in my house, even though we don't converse much."

"Yeah?" An odd flirtatious shock goes through me, like back in highschool. I scold myself, it's just late, don't act on it. I scoot forward anyway, he shifts his weight forward as well, leaning in like he's telling a secret.

"It's ehhhh, nice," he rotates his hand as he searches his mind for the right words. "Less lonely I suppose, coming home to a house that's not so empty." I find my eyes exploring every crease of his face, a hair sticks to his forehead, I have to move that... It'll be okay I'm OCD... No I'm not? Why am I making excuses to touch him?

Despite it all, I reach out and brush off the loose hair, he doesn't flinch, he just looks past my hand and continues to look at me as if i didn't have my hand lingering down his cheek... He breaks out into a half smile. Shit. I snap my hand back looking down as embarrassed heat floods my cheeks. "Plus the meals when I get home...." He continues and we talk the rest of the night until what I assume is the latest hours for the storm slides away and the sun peaks dimly through the horizon. And somewhere between all the laughter and snippets of conversation,

I fall asleep, opening my eyes to the sound of honey, and the feelings of soft skin on my cheek.