[completed] Nova Carter knows exactly what the next few years of her life will look like: she will work harder than anyone else (as she didn't get into New York University to slack off); she'll be keeping her head down and prioritizing getting her a...
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Chapter Twenty-two | Down the Line
♫Down the Line by Beach Fossils
Everybody knows the holidays are a hectic time to be a student. Professors cram in the last assignments and deadlines (things they want to get out of the way before Christmas, at least) and while your mind is halfway gone to Thanksgiving and New Years, it's as though a bunch of responsibilities are hot on your tail. You can physically hide your laptop and books, but the mental weight of your procrastination remains.
In a desperate attempt to save our grades, as he calls it, Milo's put out invitations for a 'super deep study sesh' at his place. Knowing him, though, he just wants to show off his finished apartment and gloat about it. I still would've showed up if he opened with that.
When I realised this'll be the first time I'm seeing Milo's place as he intends it to look, I knew I can't show up without a housewarming gift, so I got a plant on the way. Plants are a transfer of responsibility, sure, but he already has a bunch and they'll look nice in his industrial apartment. Also, I don't have any other ideas.
The only housewarming I've ever been to was of an older cousin of mine. That would've been a helpful experience in my gift-picking, if the only memory I have of that entire event wasn't my uncle gifting her a bag of toilet paper.
Though my journey of looking for a plant to gift Milo started out with me looking for a pretty, healthy-looking plant, I remembered halfway I'll have to drag whichever one I choose into the subway and all the way to Chelsea with me. Now he'll end up getting a lightweighted one that might look a little dead but is very easy to move.
I get him a teddy bear, too, since a plant feels too random and impersonal (especially since I won't be able to get a card and write something inside of it. I'll have to ask someone else, a total stranger, to write for me, and that just feels too humiliating for eighteen-year-old me). Then I take the subway to Chelsea.
It takes me a while to climb the Capitol's stairs with my hands full and my balance all messed up, but I manage it anyway. The elevator's been 'out of service' since Milo moved in weeks ago and I'm starting to think it's a scam.
Milo's front door is cracked open when I arrive on his floor, and inside voices are carelessly chatting and laughing. I adjust the plant and teddy bear in my arms (feeling slightly embarrassed about bringing them now, in front of all these people, but shrugging it off).
The apartment looks more settled in, is the first thing I notice. The wardrobe next to the front door is overflowing with coats and shoes are kicked off next to the welcome mat. The side table has mail strewn over its top and a bowl with Milo's keys in it, a mirror nailed to the wall right over it. I can just imagine him slipping on shoes and adjusting his hair before he heads out.
The living room is proof of his free-spirit living here, too. The wall behind the television is exposed brick, as are those framing the large, tiled windows facing the street, and the hardwood flooring is a warm brown, clad with a thick carpet underneath the coffee table.
