Hell's Kitchen (DISCONTINUED)

1: Jealous Much?

Ring, ring... ring, ring...

"Urgh... hello? Oh, yeah...hey... Well, nobody else had heard it. I've still got my free will, you can't make me incapable of minor tasks..."

The noise awakens me. Eyes open, alert. Alone. Safe. Wait... it's later than usual. Didn't I set an alarm? I glance to my phone. Or where it should be, it instead appearing noticeably absent. As were my keys, watch, wallet, and somehow my lamp. Really? Always my things, why am I not more careful? I make a mental note to get better locks, keep Ben out. Slimy, greedy-no, I can't say that. It's not his fault. Neither mine for what I'm like, but I'll still blame myself. Actually, that's not true. I've always been this messed up.

I stumble out of my room, eyes blurry. Catch a glimpse of my possessions through his open door. I grab the essentials while the chance is there- I'll move the lamp later. Kind of hard to do so quickly at the moment with the wire tightly curled around the bed frame; he'll catch me in the act. An encounter I really don't want. I swear he always goes for my stuff. Never disturbs the others. Lucky. Huh, the bathroom's free. That's a shock. Wait, no. Cain's beaten me to the door, giving me the typical death glare. Lurching backwards, scuttling into my room, unresisting. Last time someone tried properly standing up to him a chair got broken. As well as a window. Quite a shock for the homeless guy 40 floors below. The one piece of fortune I've got left is that he hasn't used his rage directly against me. So far.

At least we have a second bathroom. I guess a lot of penthouses do, although I can't be certain- I've only been in this one. Unfortunately, on my way out I'm greeted by the sight of Eve slammed up against the wall with her latest lover, making it pretty obvious that this was this new arrival's identity from their actions. Way to rub it in. Work or hobby? Can't say. Female this time however, a change from the previous three. That's generally a sign it's more casual, though I don't want to jump to conclusions. That wouldn't be fair- I don't want to judge her for my more illicit activity, so I try to keep a neutral opinion around her. And most things. Not that she thinks I criticise her, or ever would. I'm just careful, even in meaningless situations like this. I apologise, I'm rambling. I always do it, and now I'm at it again, sorry, sorry. I suppose most guys would find the sight of two girls engaged in such an activity quite entertaining. Our housemates would if it hadn't become a nightly encounter. I was not one of those people- not just because it had become so commonplace.

Around the corner poking out from her room stands Abigail, sighing at the disgusting noise coming from the pair. Normally, she complains until the cows (so, her) come home if anyone makes the mistake of letting her be reproachful, so I just continue to the kitchen, head down, avoiding any chance of conversation. I know what she'll do- drone on and on about how all this racket is disturbing her incredibly important musical work- as a drummer. Everyone had already explained the irony to her. Well, except me. I did not have the courage to go up against her myself- couldn't stand the agony that would produce itself from that scenario. As much as she's infuriating, I'd kill for her confidence. Spread-eagled on the floor is Stephen, speaking into the phone laid against his ear. Lazy. Strange. We don't get many callers.

"Yeah, but you've got to think of Gabriel, man," he mutters, clearly exhausted as always. "I mean, after what..." He tails off. Looks up at me loitering above him. Makes a 'get lost' gesture with his eyes- all the energy he can spare. Not the time to be here. I'll ask later. Maybe Abigail is listening; I can glean some information from her. Or, to be more accurate, get Eve to ask her for me.

Breakfast. Cereal, toast... eh, I'll have both. I wrestle the butter out of Isaac's hands. Eating it out of the tub- on second thoughts, I'll take honey. Disgusting- sorry, I shouldn't view him like that. I need to stop generalising people- stupid, stupid, stupid. Look, its certainly one of his bad days. Generally he contains himself to snacks. Disgruntled, he stumbles away, likely to one of his food stashes. Good for him. As I prepare my own food, Eve joins me, absent-mindedly pouring a drink while her eyes betray her vacant thoughts. Her nighttime companion has left. She seems lonely.

'You ok?" I inquire quietly (one of the few times I will speak today and most definitely the only conversation I'll initiate).

"Coping," she responds, still fixated on her orange juice. "You?"

"Likewise," I murmur. With that, she swipes a slice of toast from my plate. I half-heartedly lunge for her, but she's already out of the room. She didn't have to sleep alone. I had nobody. Not since... I finish up, shower, dress. I choose one of my better t-shirts. With only some mental protest, use the comb Eve forced me to buy. Of course, I couldn't say no to her- or anyone. Ready. Out the room for... well, very little. It wasn't as if I had to work. Hardly the case that I needed to leave the house. Not for months now. Very unlikely this day was to be eventful. This being the belief going through my head as I arrive in the living room to the sight of the others secretively discussing something.

They stop. Turn. Almost in synchronisation. Stephen breaks the news from his slumped position on a stool.

"Gabriel, bad news. Er... Lu's coming to check on us."

They look to the ground, awkward, uncomfortable. Not knowing how to react. Trying to avoid watching me break down.

A bedroom. No, a bathroom. Something on the floor, an object, shiny. The end? No, rather the beginning, he says. Wait, how did he get- bang. I'm here. I was always here. So jealous. Wanting. Envious. He's there. Then the others. Similar. Different. Then... he left. After a time, after we were settled. But not without a goodbye. Goodbye goodbye don't leave get away from me you monster-

Fists clenched. My tongue unconsciously tracing itself around the inside of my mouth, in memory. Memory of its partner. The idle chatter:

"He looks pale."

"Of course he bloody does, you twit. Don't you know what happened between them?"

"Obviously. Just stating the obvious."

You used obvious twice-"

"So?"

"I'm guessing we have to use the bull Latin names again, right?"

Well, clearly. But let's get onto the more pressing question: Why would anyone want to do what He did with Invidia?"

"First, screw the dead language until he gets here, okay? Stick with English, I'm not listening to Latin until He's in the room. Second, can you leave him alone for one moment, let him recover? Besides, you're hardly an angel, are you?"

"Gabriel?"

Eve. She knew. Every fact. The only one I trusted with them. The others had their whispers. They knew enough. More than I wanted them to. Still, can't help it if somebody was listening at the door, can I? Never found out who. Didn't really want to consider it.

"Gabriel, you alright?"

I could hear her over the bickering. But I couldn't reply. All I could see was His face. The charm. That confident smirk. The detail of His stubble under the bulb. Get out of my head, now.

After much silence, I manage to spit out a sentence:

"W-would you mind getting my lamp out of Ben's room?"

The slightest burst of shared laughter. More nervous on my end than hers.