Your past, it comes for you.
WHO: Søren and Sindre
WHEN: 17:30, Saturday June 12th.
WHERE: Charleston Apartments
WHAT: Sindre finds Søren in his apartment buildings. Things degenerate.
( Why can't the people upstairs just...WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE )
WHEN: 17:30, Saturday June 12th.
WHERE: Charleston Apartments
WHAT: Sindre finds Søren in his apartment buildings. Things degenerate.
( Why can't the people upstairs just...WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE )
Comments 35
It also happened to send him rolling off the couch where he'd collapsed this morning after shooing out...what was her name again?
...Eh. Whatever.
In any case, falling off a couch is pretty much guaranteed to shock your ass awake faster than a Swedish fika.
He blearily grabbed at the edge of the couch for a little leverage to pull himself up and answer the door. He managed to swerve around the evil coffee table that seemed to always move three inches to the right and nail him in the shin when he wasn't paying attention. (He had to move the damn thing every other day. Goddamn old apartment buildings and their goddamn crooked and slanted floors.)
But as his hand closed around the doorknob, he missed the step up onto the landing and went sprawling, pulling the door open with him. With a pained wince, he peered up into his open doorway.
"--Yeah, hi. Can I help...you."
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Sindre froze in shock at the face that turned towards him. "S-Søren?"
Søren. Søren lived above him. Søren, a man who he hadn't seen in seven years and for a long time was happy about it, lived not only in his building, but directly above him. Søren, who had been his best friend through high school, had been thumping about and playing video games at all hours, and, oh god, the Danish pop music.
He had been listening to Søren having sex for weeks
Sindre's mind fizzled on that last thought, and he did the only thing he could do.
He started walking away.
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Sindre. It was Sindre motherfuckin'--what was his last name again--Myhre!
"Yo, Sindre!" he called cheerfully as he clambered to his feet, "Been awhile, yeah? It's be--heeeey, wait up!"
He jogged to catch up with Sindre, long-absent former friend, comrade, and all-around backup.
"Why the hell are ya gonna walk away like your ass is on fire? What, embarrassed that you forgot my housewarming gift?" Søren joked as he followed behind Sindre closely, "Or are you doin' that Jehovah's Witness thing? I never really pegged you as the religious sort, y'know! 'Specially not the door-to-door salesman type. Ya never really got the trademark-patented smarmy grin down."
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"First, I didn't even know you were in this hemisphere. Second, came up to drop something off," he deadpanned. "Apparently I had the wrong room number. I'll be leaving then." Could the elevator be any slower? This is why Sindre took the stairs, but a visitor to the building would more likely use the elevator, and even if this didn't pan out, Sindre didn't want to risk giving any indication as to the location of his apartment.
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Hell, to be completely honest, a lot of old urges were reviving themselves from somewhere deep in his head, muscle memory causing his fingers to twitch anxiously in his pockets, half-reactive and half-nerves, as if there were sparks coursing down the tendons, trying to reach the sensation of CO2 gas pooling in his fingertips, and the explosion that would occur if they connected--
"Of course you get a say! But whether I listen to it or not is another thing entirely. You know me; the epitome of determination!"
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He sighed. Too bad the other was probably right. He had thought of the Dane as a friend far longer than he had anything else, and if Søren was going to constantly be around, he'd eventually start viewing his as one again. But as tempting as it was simply to lay down in the face of inevitability, Sindre wasn't quite going to let Søren completely off the hook.
"...We can start anew. Not," he was quick to interject, "that we're friends again. You did some pretty bad things to Berwald and I." Although, if he were being fair, he and Berwald hadn't been the nicest in retaliation. He wanted to be sure he could get past it as well as see if Søren had changed. "But...blank slate? So long as you've gotten over whatever caused you to act the way you did."
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"Probationary-detentionish-kinda thing? I..." he paused for a moment, recalling those golden high school years and deciding whatever little level of hell this might turn out to be would be worth the rewards.
"I think I can manage that, yeah."
He watched the pedestrian signal change from a red hand to a white walking man and smiled at how appropriate it seemed.
Yes, Søren. You are good to go. So go.
"Anyway," he continued brightly, "This is my stop...go...my turn-off! I guess...I'll see ya around or somethin', right? After all, you know where I live now. Jehova's Witness." he said teasingly as he began to stride through the crosswalk and the countdown begun.
8--
7--
6--
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