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And we will stand up in the cold Stand up in the cold
Alex watched as Jake aggressively threw his keys down on the countertop after letting them inside the house. His wallet and cellphone withdrawn from his pockets to find their places dropped beside them with a resounding thud. She could almost hear the questions brewing, his boisterous thoughts turning loud in the ensuing silence.
Things had settled enough between the bar and the Uber ride home that now, she found the whole ordeal hilarious. Blake had made a public stink in the name of what, some roll credit mentions? She was sure the therapist he never bothered to consult would have some comments about him calling her pathetic then pulling a move like that, but neither were really her concern anymore.
However, they did seem to concern Jake, who, despite chastising her hours earlier for overthinking, was doing an impressive display of neuroticism all his own. He wasn't thrilled, clearly, but he never was when a harsh reminder of her past, of times without him, jumped unsuspectingly from the shadows just to slap them both in the face.
"I think it's time for new pants," she said in a hardly veiled bid for distraction, "those are starting to disintegrate." The light-washed denim with navy accent patches along the legs had certainly seen better days, but he'd continue to wear them, even as the seams gave out and holes began to emerge—even if they sagged and became ill-fitting.
For all his creativity and ingenuity, he certainly did like to dabble in consistency. Perhaps it was just a manifestation of the control he craved, and tonight had been anything but controlled. Therefore, she couldn't blame him as she watched the wheels spinning tirelessly in his subconscious, going nowhere but moving nonetheless.
Regardless, Jake didn't appear amused by the remark, and his face remained flat, his lips pulled down in a firm line, as he stared at her humorlessly. "Maybe a deep conditioning treatment while we're at it," she continued to pester him, saddling up beside him where he'd pressed his back into the kitchen counter, observing her tediously. "Your ends are starting to look a little dry."
The tug to his stringy strands in reference finally broke Jake of the reverie, and he caught her hand to terminate the toying. "You really went out with that asshole?"
There it was, the inevitable inquiry that wouldn't cease tumbling around his head until it was unleashed. What was Alex supposed to say, though? It was a lapse in judgment, obviously. A brief trek into insanity, surely. But, he already knew the reasoning behind it, having been the instigator himself. So, what more was there to ruminate over, really?
"You're right," she said and falsely sighed, looking to her wrist still trapped within his hand, the rings gracing his knuckles biting into the thin skin there. "I should probably stop dating dudes in bands. They're a problematic bunch." The flutter of her eyelashes to show she was feigning sincerity still garnered her no favors, and Jake remained impassive like a stone turbulent waters continued to pass over without incident.
