SomeWhere On... (BXB)

EXTRA: ...Canon Street, UK - March

"Okay, but what about this one?" Murph asks, sending me a link to a little cottage house that looks like it belongs in a quintessential English countryside town. His face is minimized into the corner of my screen. "I know it's a little out of your way, but look at it." He's got the stars in his eyes, a big grin plastered across his face with dimples. "It's so cute."

I need a moment. His face is so fucking expressive that I need to remind myself that he can move it like that. It doesn't seem natural, but Murph moves it like nothing's going on. At all.

And he's got a cute face. "Luv, this is where old people go to die in England."

His face of elation morphs into disgust. "Just because you don't like English vernacular doesn't mean I can't."

"I'm not saying that, luv," I reply, chuckling. "You said we'd find something we both liked, though."

"But..." He strokes the screen. Like he's losing a precious treasure. "...I like English vernacular." His eyes drop and his bottom lip comes out.

I roll my eyes at him. "I think you just like England because of me."

He turns red. "N-no!" he shouts. "I like it also because of the history!" Murph inhales and pauses. "The lore's neat too." Another pause. "And the technology. The television's good, too." He smiles big at me and says, shrugging, "I'm an anglophile. Sue me."

"You're an everything-phile."

Sneering, he looks at me. "Not everything."

I sigh. I'm scrolling through Google until I find one of those townhouses in New York that's all brown. "I like this one," I say, sending him the link.

Murph snorts. "Sorry, I just realized I'm trying to take the city out of the city boy."

I stick out my tongue. "I like city life."

"What about this?" Murph asks, sending me this white building with green, curved window frames. And when I say white, it's all white. There's no other colours. And there's no details on it. Like, no stone windowsills to outline the windows. There's some mouldings, but it's minimal and the emphasis is on the curved spaces in the house. "That's Art Deco."

"What's wrong with it?" I ask.

"N...nothing?" he says. "The movement was really the first international style in history, and encompassed not just architecture." Murph's eyes glow as he continues, "Graphic design, industrial design, and it took influence from all over the world." He shakes his head, eyebrows lowered into a contemplative look. "It ended too soon, though."

I grimace and look away. Scrolling through Google, I add, "I know you like those styles, but I wanna feel like I'm ruling the goddamn world." Also because the places I've lived in were just so depressing I need something that's...impressive. "What about this?" I send him a picture of a townhouse with bay windows and vines up the back. It's a terraced garden with a seating area on the lower part. I like the colour of it, too. It's this tan colour. Kinda like the buildings in Bath, which I know he likes.

Murph coos at it, his tongue out for a moment in admiration. "You like Georgian architecture?" he asks, as if I didn't know the name of it.

I didn't, but don't tell anyone.

"Yeah," I say, trying to stay cool. "It has a real...powerful feel."

He chuckles, and my heart twists. WHO SAID YOU COULD DO THIS.

"What about this?" Murph sends me watercolour art of a townhouse. There's a garden in the front – an actual garden – not a sad British one where it's been turned into more parking. It has trees and shit. It kinda looks like a Mayan temple. There's lines on the windows and they're all interconnected designs. There's a balcony on the first floor overlooking the garden, and there's, like, these carved stone scenes between the first and second floor windows. It's overflowing with hanging plants. "It's a city building, it has that height you like, it's from an architect I think is cool, and has green space for me."

"This...was it built?"

Murph shakes his head. "But when I get to be a famed architect – "

"Or a historian."

"I don't know what I want to be." He grins. "But when we have the money for it...I'd build it for you."

Something in his tone makes me feel warm. There's no hint of sarcasm in his voice. He genuinely means it. And, while I don't know how long we'll go for, it's...nice. Knowing he's in it for the long haul.

But then Murph ruins the moment by adding, "I mean, I won't be building it. I can't lift that stuff. Or carve stone."

I smirk. "Aw. And here I was, hoping you'd show our children pictures of you doing it."

Murph shushes me. "I'm not talking about our children while they don't have names."

"I thought we agreed. Harvey, Darren, Peter, Frank, Billy, and little Kelly."

"Tommy, I'm not kidding." Murph's glaring, and it's so cute. "I will slaughter you if you think those names'll stay."

I laugh. And we talk about nothing for the next two hours.

It's fucking perfect.