calamity / dreamnotfound

George Wields a Plastic Cup

The rain glittered against the night sky reflecting the streetlights as it plummeted towards the ground, noticed only by George, who had opened his fourth story apartment window just to listen to it. He rested his face on his hand, letting out a sigh and realizing that the large billboard that typically blocked his view of the moon didn't exist in his new flat, allowing him to stare off at it.

Duffel bags and suitcases still littered the floor of his new bedroom filled with clothes George hadn't the heart to fully unpack yet. Truthfully, living with Nick was a last-resort. But on-campus housing became too expensive and Nick needed a roommate--something about his job demoting him. Whatever the reason, he offered to pay 60% of the rent, which was more than fair to George.

Admittedly, his new room was much bigger than his old dorm, with a bigger desk and his own bathroom. The apartment was out of the college town which was inconvenient, but George enjoyed being able to sleep without drunken college students singing their school's anthem at ungodly hours of the night. 

Nick had been an anxious mess all evening, switching the channel every few minutes and checking his phone compulsively. "Are you going to tell me what that's about?" George had asked. He paled in color and muttered something about waiting for the pizza guy to get here. He didn't believe it then, and especially not now--two hours later and nobody had come to the door.

George couldn't hear any noise in the apartment and assumed Nick had finally went to sleep. Not that he was avoiding him, but he would rather not walk into the kitchen and watch Nick scramble to explain why he was so jittery. But it was quiet, so he risked it.

The apartment wasn't dark, despite it being nearly three in the morning. The kitchen low-lights were on as well as the floor lamp near the couch, and George opened the cupboard to pull out a glass for water.

He nearly dropped it however, when the quiet atmosphere was shattered by the noise of someone jamming a key into the front door. George's breathing stopped as he spun around and stared at the doorknob in disbelief as it turned to open. He was frozen--how the hell was he supposed to defend himself? He was only armed with a plastic cup, and it's not like he could use his business school knowledge of the production-possibilities curve to protect his apartment.

Statue-still, George watched in horror as the door swung open. In the dim light, George could only make out a tall figure whose hand was wandering around the wall trying to find the light switch. Within a second, the full lights bathed the scene in white light.

It would be impossible to tell who was more surprised. George's immediate impression of the robber was Who the fuck robs an apartment in a green hoodie? But he hadn't the time to contemplate the proper clothes to wear while robbing before the guy started speaking. That was the other thing--he couldn't be older than George, was he just some dumb college kid trying to pay tuition by robbing? If so, he was doing horribly so far.

"Who are you?!" he demanded, closing the door behind him and locking it behind his back.

"Who am I?" George said incredulously. He was suddenly filled with anger. "You broke into my apartment and you're asking who I am?!" Even as he said it, he was filled with empathy looking at the stranger. His hoodie was splattered with rain and covered in dirt . It was visibly torn at the elbow, with blood from his wound contrasting the tan skin underneath it. His knuckles were badly bruised and shaking, and George could see another dark bruise growing below his eye from across the room.

He looked away, as if feeling George's gaze. "I-I'm sorry if I scared you. Doesn't Nick live here?" He touched his hand hesitantly, then shoved both into the pocked of his hoodie. "I need to talk to him."

Before George could respond, he was interrupted by a commotion coming from Nick's room. He opened his bedroom door with force and stumbled through the dark hallway and into the kitchen. He hadn't changed out of his clothes from earlier in the night but look almost as disheveled as the stranger.

"Clay!" He exclaimed, a smile appearing briefly on his face before disappearing at the sight of his beat-up friend. "What the hell happened to you?" But it seemed he already knew. His expression changed into grief, and he didn't even seem to notice George staring in confusion at both of them.

"She 'changed her mind'." Clay spit out, focusing all his attention on Nick. "Called off the deal. But she made sure to take off with nearly our entire stash before calling it quits, classy as ever." He gestured around his face, and George could now see his busted lip and scratched cheek. "Oh, and this was a parting gift. In short, we were robbed."

a.n. // hey! thank you for reading my story. add it to your library to know when i post updates! let me know what you think :D have a good day! -molly