House of Goths

Chapter 20

Having the house to herself, Becky took advantage of the quiet time to work on her art history assignment. She brought all her books to the dining room, gave the old table a good dusting, and set herself up.

She still couldn't get over the fact that they never used this room. It was a real shame because it was such a lovely old table with six chairs to match.

She had once suggested they use it, but the Goths didn't see the point. The kitchen was good enough for them.

Perhaps they were right, though. They only ever really gathered around for breakfast. Lunches were eaten at the diner, and quite often dinner was left on the stovetop for whenever anyone wanted it. Usually, Dorian whipped something together like Mac and Cheese, or Mr. Noodles. More often than not they would order pizza and eat while watching television.

Snapping out of her directionless musings, Becky focused her attention on her assignment. After all, it was why she had stayed home.

***

It was hours before she took a break. In fact, it was almost noon when she finally closed her books. She had successfully wrapped up her assignment. Feeling rather accomplished, she stood up and stretched.

Realizing she was starting to get hungry, and that she was still in her pjs, she ran upstairs for a pee before deciding on what to have for lunch.

Becky gave her hands and face a refreshing scrub. She left the bathroom and was making her way to her room to get dressed when she paused by Crispin's bedroom.

The door had been left open just a crack. That in itself was very unusual. The prickly Goth always made a point of keeping his door shut tight.

To say she wasn't curious about this whole vanilla business he went on about, would be a lie. She didn't exactly know what to look for, but she had a feeling that she might find a clue or two in his room.

Feeling cheeky, she didn't see any harm in taking a peek. No one would ever know she'd been in there. She would make sure to leave everything as she found it.

Pushing the door open with the slightest of nudges, she stepped inside and took a good look around. She was quite surprised to discover that the prickly Goth was incredibly neat.

His many ensembles were hung up in the closet in an orderly fashion. His ornate, iron framed bed was impeccably made. Unable to resist, she ran her hand along the fancy wrought iron frame, admiring its many swirls and curls.

Crispin's room faced the backyard, and therefore it was quite bright despite the dark green brocade wallpaper and black satin bedcovers. It was all rather beautiful, much like the man himself.

Hmmm... there didn't appear to be anything suspect in his room so far. Tiptoeing towards the closet, she dared to take a closer look inside.

Other than an insane amount of Victorian lace and shiny shoes, she didn't find anything too interesting in there.

She could go through his drawers, but she didn't feel quite right about doing that. In fact, she was starting to feel rather guilty about snooping around as it was.

Over on the desk, by the window, she found a laptop, notebooks, music sheets, but nothing really out of the ordinary. The only place she hadn't checked was under the bed. Crouching down with her back to the door, she gave it a shot.

Bingo! Right there, was a rather large black leather box, an attache case of sorts, fancy brass snaps and all. With her heart racing in her chest, she reached for it and dragged it towards her.

For a moment, she hesitated. This was so wrong on so many levels. She shouldn't be in his room at all, let alone digging around his things.

But her curiosity was killing her! Oh, what would it hurt? As long as nobody found out, no one would be the wiser.