Glimpse

Chapter 45: Shayne

NO? What do you mean no?

Traces of Courtney littered Shayne's apartment as he paced between his living room and bedroom. Shafts of sunlight slotting through blinds illuminated each unlit room. Silence echoed within barren hallways, nothing but faint traffic trickling through the walls. Alone. For the first time in what felt like ages but had only been a day, he was alone.

Articles of clothing adorned the furniture. Shirts and pants smelling of Courtney created a zig-zagging trail leading nowhere; folded piles occupied the couch, while sprawled-out clumps draped the backs of chairs and dangled off counters. Flowers dotted this organized-disorder, well-stocked vases topping any available countertops. Little, ornate cards perched before them, six-rectangular 'I love you's from Courtney and one embossed 'apology' from Damien.

Feminine-branded toiletries cluttered his bathroom, pastel-colored, plastic bottles scattering any and all vacant surfaces; flower-scented body washes and citrus-scented hair products joined less-fragrant, masculine hygiene goods. Doodles covered a small, yellow post-it note stuck to the mirror - 'I love you' written in curly-Q lettering surrounded by lopsided hearts.

On his dresser sat a pile of makeup, assorted foundations and lipsticks littering its top. Three drawers now accommodated Courtney's belongings, underwear and bras thrown-in with miscellaneous garments. Opening the closet door, Shayne smiled at the distinct line forming that separated hers from his. A week's worth of trips to-and-from her apartment left his apartment overcrowded, and he loved it.

Sure, any visitor would think Courtney had moved in, and more so than ever once she returned from today's scavenge. A half-truth. Both agreed to this communal living situation but under the provision of it being temporary. Well, until Shayne and his Alternate switched at least. A product of necessity driven by desire to spend the limited time they had left together and the dangers of Glimpsing alone.

Ironic considering Shayne's appended stipulation that she spent at least two hours away. Worry over them becoming overdependent on one another fueled his addition. One he fought tooth-and-nail for after Courtney interpreted his reasoning the wrong way.

Other than that single hiccup, the last seven days went without trouble, no Glimpses, and no Alternate raging in his head. Not until now, at least. For once, Shayne found himself grateful for it.

With time ticking down, he ached to finalize their plan for the inevitable severance. To figure out if he could take Damien's place and guarantee Courtney's visitation. Too bad his Alternate refused to even entertain the request.

You still there, Numbnuts?

Marching back to the kitchen, Shayne stabbed his nails into the pillowed flesh of his palms. Minor discomfort distracted from the dull-but-constant ache radiating from loose bandages sheathing his midriff. Abrupt movement and sustained pressure still aggravated slow-to-heal burns. Beneath sheets of gauze, itchy, still-forming scabs protected fresh and raw layers of epidermis. Irritating, but they ensured the wounds wouldn't reopen unless picked at.

You really think I'd let you dom Dollface? Christ all mighty, Fuck-Face, I know you're insane, but this? This is a whole other level of crazy talk.

Unbelievable, I tell you we're opening things up, give you permission to all-but fuck my girlfriend, and now, all of the sudden, you're closing things off?

The refrigerator door creaked as Shayne opened it, grumbles of his stomach watering his mouth. Disappointment fell from his lips, a disheartened sigh responding to the near-empty interior. White-wire shelves contained a handful of half-eaten takeout containers while sundry condiments stocked the door panel. Nothing fresh. The usual staples. Fruit, vegetables, almond milk, and meat left unreplaced, the motivation to cook eluding Shayne and Courtney.