They Can't Tell Us Anything |C. Kreider|

Chapter 30

Autumn's POV

I called up Kevin, to find out if he could keep Chris out of the house for today.

"Why are you asking me for this? I mean I can but why?" He asks, confusion evident in his tone of voice.

"I'm coming back down, don't say anything to anyone. I need you to make sure no one is in that apartment until I get all my crap out." I tell him firmly, I can't have anyone knowing that I'm back and I know he wouldn't tell anyone.

"I still can't believe you're going. But I'll help you, how long do you need him out of the house?" He asks somewaht reluctantly.

"I'm kinda by New York Presbyterian, so like 20 minutes from now until I let you know." I tell him.

"Well it may be a little while, are you in your car or?" He trails off.

"Yes, but not in the one you know. I sold the Passat to help me pay for the Montreal apartment and my dad gave me his Renegade, signed it over and everything. All I need to do is change the plates once I get up there." I explain quickly. 

"Ah, gotcha. I'm taking Chris over to Zucc's for some Labor Day thing he's having, I think it's a Q or something. You should go, that is after you get your shit together and packed." He open-endedly invites. 

"I'll think about it, see how long this takes." I tell him, not accepting or denying.

"Alrightie, if the guys ask if I've spoken to you, do I say yes or no?" He asks, unsure of what I'd prefer.

"I'd rather you say that you hadn't spoken to me but if it slips up, then it doesn't really matter." I say, not really giving him an answer.

"Sounds good, I'm gonna head up to the apartment, do you still have your key?" He asks. 

I lean up in my seat, I'm sitting in Wendy's, and pat my pockets for my keys. I find them in my front left pocket of my black shorts. Pulling them out, I notice that I still have the apartment key, the red nail polish I had used to mark the key chipping.

"Yeah, still got the key. Let me know when it's safe for me to head down."  I tell him, stuffing a few fries into my mouth.

"Sounds good, see ya at the Q, maybe." He answers.

"Course, I'll let you know. See ya." I say, words sounding somewhat muffled because of the fries.

"See ya." He tells me before hanging up.

I finish up my meal, just in time too because I get a message from Kevin telling me it's all clear. 

I drive those 20 minutes, blasting Approaching Nirvana albums. 

I take the keys out of the ignition and grab the storage bins from my trunk, along with a few things that I decided would be best for me to give back to him. 

Those things were his shirts and sweaters, both the ones he knew I took and the ones he didn't, the apartment key (which'll be left there after I have everything) and our photostrip from Casino Night this year. 

I get up to the apartment and unlock the door. The place is looking pretty good, surprisingly clean. 

I plug my phone into those bomb speakers that we got as a "house-warming" gift from Brandon (Dubinsky) when we first moved in together. 

I put my music on shuffle and the first song that plays is "Talk" by Against The Current.

How ironic.

I sing along with it as I start packing my crap up from my room.

Many songs, many trips to the car and many hours later, I finally have everything of mine out of the apartment.