Alone [manxman]

two:: when you realize you're a little broken.

[Paul's Apartment; Compass by The Neighbourhood]

TWO:: when you realize you're a little broken.

Something about walking through parking decks at night had always terrified me. I tried to tell myself that this fear had started long before my traumas, maybe around the time we'd gotten our first apartment and I realized that Landon and Brandon weren't so tough.

When I got home a bit too late, I'd park as close as possible to the exit of the deck before walking out on the street and back through the entrance of my apartment building. This was something I never compromised on and maybe it was completely ridiculous.

If Pete noticed he didn't say anything but from the look in his eyes, he definitely saw the shift in body language. I could always feel myself getting nervous now and I hated it, my palms would sweat if a larger man was too close to me, I'd inch further away and scan the room for other, less-threatening places to stand.

I was always on alert and because of that, avoided stairwells and clubs alone, I told myself that it wouldn't always be this way.

I'd gotten out the car first, Peter lagging behind and with trembling fingers, I'd accidentally locked him in.

Biting at my lip when he'd furrowed his brow at me, I offered a laugh that probably lasted a bit too long, re-locking the car and waiting for him to round it so we could exit. It was cold and I kept my keys in my hand, driver's key held tightly between my index and middle. Opening the gate, I held it for him to walk through, duffle on his shoulder.

And the wind nipped at my skin, the chill sinking in through thin material, I tightened my coat around me. When he looked over, i busied myself by pulling my phone out my pocket so he'd be less inclined to inquire about my weird habit. I led him through the halls and to the only elevator in the building.

The hallways in my building contrasted so much from the modern apartments and the outside, it almost felt rustic, like every wall had a story and maybe that was just because the landlord was awfully lazy.

The elevator was new though, we had all new, modern appliances and the brick exterior fit perfectly into Little Italy. But the crown molding— it felt a bit different, like it had character, I was always a sucker for the details. Curling around the edge of white walls a slab of brick on an opposing wall, Pete followed me through hallways with high ceilings and overhead lights.

There was some aging that played a big part in what intrigued me to look at the place. Maybe the history had a ton to do with my early infatuation.

I liked things a bit damaged, I decided.

A roasted tomato smell loomed in the quaint apartment, Amy Winehouse playing. Isaiah bustled around the kitchen island, spicing whatever dish he was preparing, stopping when I'd walked in. It was like he was waiting for me, pretending to be busier than he actually was and I tried to hide my sigh.

His toffee colored eyes were wide, muscled body slowing as he got to me. In fluid movements, he was wiping wet hands on the apron that he'd gotten so much use of since we'd upgraded to a full kitchen.

He was a mutual friend in college, a photography major that my other roommates would hand out with and they'd bring him over. I'd somehow forgotten I'd known him then, only noticing in passing how attractive he was.

Or maybe I told myself that in order to not feel guilty, my subconscious had wiped away all memory of him because I didn't want to tell Jules at first. And I would have to tell Jules first before he found out from someone else; I didn't get the chance to. Part of me knew he'd pull away.