What is Love?
WHO: Malin and Raivis
WHEN: Afternoon, October 8
WHERE: ...Book Alley
WHAT: Stressed, confused and almost-sort-of-irritated with life, Raivis trembles his way to the book store to unwind with his favorite romance novels- unfortunately, the course of 'true love' never did run smoothly...
No more.
The anxiety, the people, the insanity of everything wrong with the world today- stuff it in a closet, slam the door and be done with it at the click of a lock. That, as Raivis fiddled with his keys to the sound of an irate koala on the other side of the door, was what he so dearly wished to do. Oh Liberty was wonderful with the absence of his overbearing cousins- Andrejs yet to be found, dear God, Rihard and-
He tapped a fist lightly against the wood with a sharp 'Stop it, Biff' when scraping nails substituted 'growling'. Logan was a wonderful roommate- other than the occasional near fatal headlock, they got on well enough. Toris was so busy lately, Eduard as well. Work was something Raivis understood, enjoyed even- from time to time- but currently...
Two of the most important people in his life were now at odds with his frazzled, rapidly unraveling nerves. Doctor Braginski seemed to be suffering from his own private emotional break down. Peter was...Strange. They were both so very strange around one another. The bond was still there, they still- he hoped and deep within, knew- loved one another.
It was just awkward. Working for Ivan was a necessary evil- at least for a while longer- and that was something Peter simply could not accept. They were talking, certainly, but it was through blogging and text messaging. Distanced. Impersonal. Just as he had back in Riga, he began to miss the bright laughter and overenthusiastic greetings. Grease and oil and kisses and intimacy.
'Times were tough'- so assuming that's how the saying went- and when they got tough, Raivis got cravings.
There was something that he needed. Wanted. Cherished and adored almost as much as he did a young stubborn Sealander.
And he found it roughly an hour later, stacked row to row all neat and pristine in Book Alley, the glittering, seductive display of the best, the beautiful-
The romance novels.
A lone, trembling sigh billowed out and, glancing over his shoulder down the aisle to confirm he was quite happily devoid of company, Raivis reached forward, gingerly plucked up 'The Highlander's Mistress', and opened to page one, cue curly red-headed heroine.
Oh yes, Henwyn, soon to be ravaged storybook lover, the Scottsman's legs were very nice...
WHEN: Afternoon, October 8
WHERE: ...Book Alley
WHAT: Stressed, confused and almost-sort-of-irritated with life, Raivis trembles his way to the book store to unwind with his favorite romance novels- unfortunately, the course of 'true love' never did run smoothly...
No more.
The anxiety, the people, the insanity of everything wrong with the world today- stuff it in a closet, slam the door and be done with it at the click of a lock. That, as Raivis fiddled with his keys to the sound of an irate koala on the other side of the door, was what he so dearly wished to do. Oh Liberty was wonderful with the absence of his overbearing cousins- Andrejs yet to be found, dear God, Rihard and-
He tapped a fist lightly against the wood with a sharp 'Stop it, Biff' when scraping nails substituted 'growling'. Logan was a wonderful roommate- other than the occasional near fatal headlock, they got on well enough. Toris was so busy lately, Eduard as well. Work was something Raivis understood, enjoyed even- from time to time- but currently...
Two of the most important people in his life were now at odds with his frazzled, rapidly unraveling nerves. Doctor Braginski seemed to be suffering from his own private emotional break down. Peter was...Strange. They were both so very strange around one another. The bond was still there, they still- he hoped and deep within, knew- loved one another.
It was just awkward. Working for Ivan was a necessary evil- at least for a while longer- and that was something Peter simply could not accept. They were talking, certainly, but it was through blogging and text messaging. Distanced. Impersonal. Just as he had back in Riga, he began to miss the bright laughter and overenthusiastic greetings. Grease and oil and kisses and intimacy.
'Times were tough'- so assuming that's how the saying went- and when they got tough, Raivis got cravings.
There was something that he needed. Wanted. Cherished and adored almost as much as he did a young stubborn Sealander.
And he found it roughly an hour later, stacked row to row all neat and pristine in Book Alley, the glittering, seductive display of the best, the beautiful-
The romance novels.
A lone, trembling sigh billowed out and, glancing over his shoulder down the aisle to confirm he was quite happily devoid of company, Raivis reached forward, gingerly plucked up 'The Highlander's Mistress', and opened to page one, cue curly red-headed heroine.
Oh yes, Henwyn, soon to be ravaged storybook lover, the Scottsman's legs were very nice...