Victoria
8:00AM
I'm woken up by the sound on the alarm, which I haven't had the power to deactivate yet. Every morning, at the same hour it sounds, bringing the fleeting comfort of the monotony I used to live within weeks ago. Now its impact isn't as strong, remembering the fact that the reason behind it doesn't exist anymore can't hurt deeper that it did in the beginning.
I grab my phone and turn it off, choosing to get up instead of going back to sleep, craving some coffee and a cigarette. I drag myself out of bed and walk tiredly towards the kitchen, careful not to wake Thomas up. At the thought of my best friend, yesterday's conversation makes its appearance in my mind and so does the man that last night shared one of his cigarettes with me, Damiano.
I fill the coffeemaker with the required ingredients in order to prepare the beverage, thinking of the words Thomas said to me last night, how Damiano and I are actually quite alike. This wakes such a cursed sense of curiosity inside me, wanting to find out the deeper truth behind his being. I pour the hot coffee inside a cup and go to what's becoming my favorite place in this apartment, especially at night or during early mornings like these, the terrace. I throw my jacket over my shoulders and slide the door open to then close it back again after myself, as quietly as I can. I go to the mahogany table and place my cup on it, taking a seat to then pull a cigarette out of my Malboro pack and bring it to my lips, lighting it.
I smoke calmly, thinking about the man upstairs; a beautiful girl probably laying on his bed right now, both of them sleeping naked and feeling hungover after a wild night filled with nightlife's greatest pleasures – alcohol, parties and sex. I can't point out what is the thing that makes me feel uneasy about this, like an itch I can't reach and scratch. I don't think it's jealousy, or I don't want it to be, I won't accept being attracted to a man like him, rude and disrespectful.
I take the impulsive decision of searching his name on Instagram, trying to see if I can find his account. When I press enter after typing, only one account appearing under his name. I tap on it and scroll through the few posts he has, most of them hot pictures of himself, taken at night, either on the streets, at bars or in nightclubs. He's portraying the same image he tries to give in person, the fuck boy that he claims himself to be. I notice that he has recently uploaded a story and, without hiding, I open it, making curiosity kill the cat.
When I see a picture of himself from last night, smoking as well somewhere outside, I'm convinced that all my theories are right. I exit the app, locking the phone and leaving it beside my mug, taking my morning dose of tobacco from the ashtray, where I had previously left it to rest and inhaling its smoke once again.
I try to make my mind leave those strange thoughts behind, focusing on the silence from outside, breaking little by little by people that are waking up, starting their days as well when I get interrupted by Thomas' voice from behind me, stopping my train of thoughts.
"Someone's up early," sounds suddenly, making me turn my head to find my best friend standing next to the door.
"Morning, Thom,"I tell him, getting up, "I'll bring you coffee too, sit down," I say, quickly getting up to head back to the kitchen, so I can treat my best friend to an espresso. I grab the small cup from the shelf and fill it to the brim, before placing it on its small plate and taking it back to where Thomas is now sat. "Here," I say, leaving his morning drink in front of him.
"Thank you, Vic," says him, his voice still quiet, recovering from all the hours of sleep and I smile in return.
~
Hours pass by, letting the daily actions unfold almost unnoticed, making me tie to the new monotony fast. Thomas spends the rest of his day working on a song with his guitar, fully submerged into the beautiful melody he's creating. I'm sat next to him, quietly watching and listening to his art, almost saddened at the sight of the slow combination of notes he's playing, which is speaking on behalf of pain, sorrow but also a hint of hope at the end.
"It's beautiful, Thom," I tell him, smiling after he's done playing his composition.
"Your bass in it would make it sound even better," he winks at me, and I scoff in response, watching him place his guitar on the ground, resting against the sofa.
"We'll see," I tell him looking away.
The doorbell rings loudly, letting me know who it is behind the door already. Thomas gets up fast and opens it, revealing the man that hasn't left my thoughts in days.
"Hey," says my best friend greeting him with a hug. "Who is this?" I hear him ask suddenly and a second person is revealed after Damiano.
She's a short, yet beautiful, curvy girl; almost her whole body adorned by many tattoos. Her black hair falls on her shoulders in waves, making my gaze move along her facial features. My analysis gets interrupted buy Damiano's next words, words that leave my best friend and I startled.
"This is Giorgia," starts him, "my ex-girlfriend." He takes a pause before continuing, "Girlfriend, actually. We just got back together."
Our gazes suddenly meet, just mine and his and he's gifting me sincerity, he doesn't look happy, his look is filled with the deepest kind of pain.
YOU ARE READING
Runaway | Damoria
Fanfiction"How long is it going to take for the battle inside of ourselves to be over?" That's the question she kept asking herself just before her battle was over, as another one begun.
