One With My Rival

Untitled Part 26

"That's not how you throw clay" I deadpanned. Lucas glares.

It's been a weird week, the recent days even weirder.

I'm not sure how to put it into words but for the past couple of days there's been this ambiance of peace in this house whenever the two of us are present. Which never happens.

It doesn't help that recently Lucas has been home more often compared to the last month. It's hard to admit it to myself, more so verbally saying it out loud, but it's been... nice.

I have someone to yell at to move furnitures around.

On the brighter and normal side, the house is slowly becoming more liveable. It's becoming more of a house rather than a big block of open space that's been forced unto us. I still hate how privacy is barely nonexistent here other than the bathroom but it's nice.

Lucas has also been coming by a lot more recently which is a stupid thing to note since this is technically his house as well. I'm also still torn whether to use coming by or coming home because both still sounds weird in my ears. I do plan on doing something about that issue though but for now this will do.

"Then how do you fucking throw clay" He throws the chunk of clay down, huffing and frowning like a goddamn kid. I rolled my eyes because now he's asking how when he downright shoved me away when I tried helping him.

"I'll throw this chunk of clay if you keep wasting my materials" It's an empty threat but he still levels me with a glare that I've come to know is harmless.

"I'll throw this table at you try me" I raised an eyebrow at him, eyes twinkling in amusement.

It has also come to my attention how our banters have been becoming more amusing rather than annoying. Ever since the escapade at the greenhouse, garden, whatever the fuck that place is, those witches have yet to bother us. To say I'm glad is an understatement because I'm really fucking glad they're not sticking their noses into our lives.

Especially now.

The bullet wounds have barely healed but I'm not reduced to a bleeding mess every time I move and they don't require as much bandages so I'll take what I can get.

On another note, the Boss has yet to contact me and it's been days since he last called and I'm in the process of talking myself out of my anxiety over that matter. I also have no news on what the fuck happened to Leo since the day he bolted out of the house without even saying anything.

I carried his unconscious ass up the stairs and let him bleed into the bed while I myself was dying at that time.

If you wanna talk about being an ungrateful, snotty ass grown up, he's the perfect example.

I can feel my eyebrow twitching, annoyed because the least he can do is send me a fucking thumbs up emoji and I'll call it quits.

"Oh that reminds me" I perk up, abandoning the idea of sticking a broom up Leo's ass. My eyes zeroes on the big box behind Lucas. He looks at me before following my gaze.

"You still have to assemble that table" He glares at me.

"No do it on your own" 

"It's your fucking work table" It wasn't a lie, not necessarily. 

The thing is with Lucas, he's more into practicality than interior design. So he's your typical rich CEO who lives in a monochromatic and minimalistic house. 

Which is the exact opposite of my entire being.

Granted, he hasn't said a word against how I'm designing house up until now but I think it's mostly because he hasn't come to terms that this is also his property and he hasn't spent much time actually living here.