(no subject)
Four months and a few days have passed since he arrived to Poznań. If he still regretted leaving without saying another word or leaving a note or some kind, it was a thought to discuss. Perhaps he did but perhaps he didn't.
All in all, he preferred it like this. He never realized how valuable peace and silence was until he got here. At times, when he glanced out the window, it was hard to believe that there was even a better world outside of this. (Perhaps this was the better world.) Thing was, he felt like he could still have more. Something was missing. It brought back a wave of bittersweet nostalgia every time he tried to think of what it was.
But he knew. Every time he had time to think for himself, he knew.
He stood in front of the doorway to his new apartment and knocked. This happened because his last setup was a huge mess due to roommate issues. They commuted at different times to different jobs and even their personal lives were different. He could still vividly remember the arguments about cleaning up condoms and leaked bodily fluids and cigarette butts, and the nights where neighbors shrieked "Policja!" because of the wild fist fights.
When he thought about it, the things they fought about never seemed like a big deal to anyone who wasn't part of the rooming plan but only because they never saw how many blood and semen stains there were. More than once a used condom clogged the toilet. A lit cigarette that was smoked a little bit past the filter burned through clothes; another one that had been dropped once ruined work papers. There was an ashtray but the ashes ended up on other places, like the sink or both of the beds.
It was a stupid experience that he tolerated far longer than his limit would accept. However, now that he was receiving good vibes from this new place, he felt reassured enough to finally relax his muscles. One of the bags touched the floor as his shoulders sagged.
This only happened because if he had anything to say, it always went straight to his boss. 'I know my grandmother set me up with one of her friends' grandsons so we could get along, but..' was how it started. His employer was concerned enough to hunt for people who wouldn't mind taking in a new roommate and this was the situation now. So apparently he'd be living with people he might have already worked with. He was told, "they already know who you are" but what was that supposed to mean?
He brought up his hand to knock again but the door swung open and he ended up jutting his knuckles towards the face of a woman who had stylishly fluffy hair, if such an image made sense. The underside was dyed a dark cherry color and the remainder was bleached blonde. She seemed to be in the middle of putting on makeup, and he knew only because eyeshadow was usually put on both eyelids. So far, it complemented her hair and he knew that this was a girl who liked to coordinate. She took one look at him and smiled. "Hi!"
His mouth twitched into an estranged smile. "Hi, sorry to come over so early like this. I'm Oscar."
"I know," She grinned proudly. "I'm Monica Przybyszewski but I prefer Mimi or Milo. Are those bags heavy? Come on inside." She stepped around the door to let Oscar come in, watching him inspect the room scrupulously. "I guess you're here at this hour because you've had the last straw with your other roommate?"
"Old roommate," he stressed mutedly, "but yes. And I guess you're going to work very soon.. ?" He checked his watch. Around seven in the morning.
"Oh," Mimi laughed quietly, so as to not wake up the other girl who was asleep on the right side of one of the beds. "I have to get ready, yes but not for work. I have a show and I'm doing makeup for the models. Krysia has to get up in a while too for hair work."
"Krysia?" Oscar pointed his thumb towards the lightly snoring unconscious body.
"Well it used to be Krystyna and then it changed to Kasia, but with both combined it became Krysia. Next best idea, right?" Mimi smiled. "Sorry if it seems kind of creepy about how we know you and you don't know us. Krysia's had a crush on you for the longest time."
Oscar blinked and adjusted his glasses. He felt flattered, but he didn't swing towards women. He'd deal with it whenever Krysia woke up. "Where can I put my bags?"
"Oh, you can just place them right there," Mimi tiptoed to look over the unused bed, pointing at a spot next to the wall. "And that entire bed," she moved her hands apart to signify the object, "is yours to use. Is that okay? We did our best to clean up in here.."
"Yeah, of course." Oscar dropped his bags heavily onto the floor and flinched when he remembered that someone was still asleep. "It's cool. Thanks."
A fault on his part, Krysia woke up anyway. She picked her head up and tried to clear it from the grogginess, blinking away sleep. "Milo.. ?" She sounded raspy. Oscar assumed she was hungover. Her hair was grown down to her chest, bleached platinum, and her bangs looked freshly cut. She was lying down but Oscar could already tell that she had a very thin frame, gifted with a lovely shape but it wasn't quite full when compared to Mimi. She was just skinny. Krysia brought her hand up to rub the inner corner of her eye and her fingers were a little thick, with knuckles that seemed to be somewhat swollen. Unexplainable phenomenon.
"You're awake! Good. You have to get up, dah-ling, you have to fix your hair and mine and I have to do our makeup and guess who's here?" Mimi beamed and stamped her foot, gesturing to Oscar with her hands parallel to the floor as if she was presenting a prize on a game show.
Krysia jumped slighty. "Oh!" She hid back underneath the blanket and peeked out slowly, looking even more dazed. Her crush on Oscar seemed to be more severe than he thought. "You're even more good looking in person! I can't believe this, and I'm in bed like..." She made a garbled noise and Mimi laughed, clapping her hands together.
Oscar smiled weakly, brushing his hair back with his hand. It had gotten pretty long since he had last it cut a few weeks ago; just enough that he couldn't put it up into a faux hawk anymore without having it look like the result of eccentricity or laziness instead. "Hey.." And then he didn't know where to go. Awkward. "Krysia, right?"
"Krysia Dziarmaga, yes." She smiled, throwing her hair over her shoulder and leaning her head against her palm. "Oscar Johansson. Swedish, right? That's really cool." She was a hard flirt.
"Oh, yes. Just the name, though. As far as I know, I'm from an entirely Polish family." His mother's maiden name was Jagaciak and both grandparents from his father's side were Polish. Where Johansson came from, he was sure he'd never find out unless he looked hard into his family tree.
"Ah." She looked down, trying to save face.
Oscar sighed. "I don't want to get off on the wrong foot here but I need to establish something with you so you don't get the wrong idea. I don't..like girls. I'm gay."
Mimi stared at him blankly and Krysia made a face. "Um," the latter girl started out, "I'm like that too. Gay, I mean." Pause, and then in a tiny voice, "I'm a boy, not a girl..."
Oscar involuntarily leaned his neck down, moving his head as if he misheard. "Pardon?" That was a horrible way to introduce oneself cordially. However, it was misleading anyway. Then again, it did explain some of the stranger things. The incomplete shapeliness, the small hands that weren't quite dainty, the voice that was more husky than tender--even in hindsight, he saw that Krysia's body didn't look soft the way a woman's body should at all (however it did look just as smooth). But still, it was a trick; Krysia was as beautiful as any other girl and had a certain daintiness thanks to the purposely feminine, petite frame. The androgyny was attractive.
"His real name is Krzysztof," Mimi said.
"I cross-dress." There was a reluctant pause and Krysia seemed afraid. "Is that okay?"
Oscar swallowed thickly, various paths opening up in his head, most of them leading to several ends that he didn't want to venture toward. Boy George types tended not to be good for him. He could sense more roommate troubles already, only instead of hating each other, they might get along. He considered it, thought about it.
but he knew that if anything happened, it would only be a surrogate relationship.
All in all, he preferred it like this. He never realized how valuable peace and silence was until he got here. At times, when he glanced out the window, it was hard to believe that there was even a better world outside of this. (Perhaps this was the better world.) Thing was, he felt like he could still have more. Something was missing. It brought back a wave of bittersweet nostalgia every time he tried to think of what it was.
But he knew. Every time he had time to think for himself, he knew.
He stood in front of the doorway to his new apartment and knocked. This happened because his last setup was a huge mess due to roommate issues. They commuted at different times to different jobs and even their personal lives were different. He could still vividly remember the arguments about cleaning up condoms and leaked bodily fluids and cigarette butts, and the nights where neighbors shrieked "Policja!" because of the wild fist fights.
When he thought about it, the things they fought about never seemed like a big deal to anyone who wasn't part of the rooming plan but only because they never saw how many blood and semen stains there were. More than once a used condom clogged the toilet. A lit cigarette that was smoked a little bit past the filter burned through clothes; another one that had been dropped once ruined work papers. There was an ashtray but the ashes ended up on other places, like the sink or both of the beds.
It was a stupid experience that he tolerated far longer than his limit would accept. However, now that he was receiving good vibes from this new place, he felt reassured enough to finally relax his muscles. One of the bags touched the floor as his shoulders sagged.
This only happened because if he had anything to say, it always went straight to his boss. 'I know my grandmother set me up with one of her friends' grandsons so we could get along, but..' was how it started. His employer was concerned enough to hunt for people who wouldn't mind taking in a new roommate and this was the situation now. So apparently he'd be living with people he might have already worked with. He was told, "they already know who you are" but what was that supposed to mean?
He brought up his hand to knock again but the door swung open and he ended up jutting his knuckles towards the face of a woman who had stylishly fluffy hair, if such an image made sense. The underside was dyed a dark cherry color and the remainder was bleached blonde. She seemed to be in the middle of putting on makeup, and he knew only because eyeshadow was usually put on both eyelids. So far, it complemented her hair and he knew that this was a girl who liked to coordinate. She took one look at him and smiled. "Hi!"
His mouth twitched into an estranged smile. "Hi, sorry to come over so early like this. I'm Oscar."
"I know," She grinned proudly. "I'm Monica Przybyszewski but I prefer Mimi or Milo. Are those bags heavy? Come on inside." She stepped around the door to let Oscar come in, watching him inspect the room scrupulously. "I guess you're here at this hour because you've had the last straw with your other roommate?"
"Old roommate," he stressed mutedly, "but yes. And I guess you're going to work very soon.. ?" He checked his watch. Around seven in the morning.
"Oh," Mimi laughed quietly, so as to not wake up the other girl who was asleep on the right side of one of the beds. "I have to get ready, yes but not for work. I have a show and I'm doing makeup for the models. Krysia has to get up in a while too for hair work."
"Krysia?" Oscar pointed his thumb towards the lightly snoring unconscious body.
"Well it used to be Krystyna and then it changed to Kasia, but with both combined it became Krysia. Next best idea, right?" Mimi smiled. "Sorry if it seems kind of creepy about how we know you and you don't know us. Krysia's had a crush on you for the longest time."
Oscar blinked and adjusted his glasses. He felt flattered, but he didn't swing towards women. He'd deal with it whenever Krysia woke up. "Where can I put my bags?"
"Oh, you can just place them right there," Mimi tiptoed to look over the unused bed, pointing at a spot next to the wall. "And that entire bed," she moved her hands apart to signify the object, "is yours to use. Is that okay? We did our best to clean up in here.."
"Yeah, of course." Oscar dropped his bags heavily onto the floor and flinched when he remembered that someone was still asleep. "It's cool. Thanks."
A fault on his part, Krysia woke up anyway. She picked her head up and tried to clear it from the grogginess, blinking away sleep. "Milo.. ?" She sounded raspy. Oscar assumed she was hungover. Her hair was grown down to her chest, bleached platinum, and her bangs looked freshly cut. She was lying down but Oscar could already tell that she had a very thin frame, gifted with a lovely shape but it wasn't quite full when compared to Mimi. She was just skinny. Krysia brought her hand up to rub the inner corner of her eye and her fingers were a little thick, with knuckles that seemed to be somewhat swollen. Unexplainable phenomenon.
"You're awake! Good. You have to get up, dah-ling, you have to fix your hair and mine and I have to do our makeup and guess who's here?" Mimi beamed and stamped her foot, gesturing to Oscar with her hands parallel to the floor as if she was presenting a prize on a game show.
Krysia jumped slighty. "Oh!" She hid back underneath the blanket and peeked out slowly, looking even more dazed. Her crush on Oscar seemed to be more severe than he thought. "You're even more good looking in person! I can't believe this, and I'm in bed like..." She made a garbled noise and Mimi laughed, clapping her hands together.
Oscar smiled weakly, brushing his hair back with his hand. It had gotten pretty long since he had last it cut a few weeks ago; just enough that he couldn't put it up into a faux hawk anymore without having it look like the result of eccentricity or laziness instead. "Hey.." And then he didn't know where to go. Awkward. "Krysia, right?"
"Krysia Dziarmaga, yes." She smiled, throwing her hair over her shoulder and leaning her head against her palm. "Oscar Johansson. Swedish, right? That's really cool." She was a hard flirt.
"Oh, yes. Just the name, though. As far as I know, I'm from an entirely Polish family." His mother's maiden name was Jagaciak and both grandparents from his father's side were Polish. Where Johansson came from, he was sure he'd never find out unless he looked hard into his family tree.
"Ah." She looked down, trying to save face.
Oscar sighed. "I don't want to get off on the wrong foot here but I need to establish something with you so you don't get the wrong idea. I don't..like girls. I'm gay."
Mimi stared at him blankly and Krysia made a face. "Um," the latter girl started out, "I'm like that too. Gay, I mean." Pause, and then in a tiny voice, "I'm a boy, not a girl..."
Oscar involuntarily leaned his neck down, moving his head as if he misheard. "Pardon?" That was a horrible way to introduce oneself cordially. However, it was misleading anyway. Then again, it did explain some of the stranger things. The incomplete shapeliness, the small hands that weren't quite dainty, the voice that was more husky than tender--even in hindsight, he saw that Krysia's body didn't look soft the way a woman's body should at all (however it did look just as smooth). But still, it was a trick; Krysia was as beautiful as any other girl and had a certain daintiness thanks to the purposely feminine, petite frame. The androgyny was attractive.
"His real name is Krzysztof," Mimi said.
"I cross-dress." There was a reluctant pause and Krysia seemed afraid. "Is that okay?"
Oscar swallowed thickly, various paths opening up in his head, most of them leading to several ends that he didn't want to venture toward. Boy George types tended not to be good for him. He could sense more roommate troubles already, only instead of hating each other, they might get along. He considered it, thought about it.
but he knew that if anything happened, it would only be a surrogate relationship.