WINDFLOWER ~ an imallexx fanfic

a residual humming

~ George bullies Alex, and Sammy gets along with the lads ~

Upon entering his apartment, Alex was met with the smell of burning. He turned into the kitchen to see George's back as he stood over the hob with a grim-looking cheese toastie set in a pan.

George did not move when Alex walked in, nor did he indicate he was aware Alex was watching him. His eyes were glued on the sandwich as he poked at it with a wooden spoon, nudging it to be better.
But it was too far gone to turn out any better than just edible.

At Alex clearing his throat, George asked, "Where've you been?"

"I grabbed some lunch at Five Guys." He pulled at the collar of his shirt, fanning himself. Taking a bar seat and leaning forward with his arms on the counter, he continued, "I would've offered to bring something back for you if I'd thought about it."

"Don't worry; no one expects you to think, Alex." George flipped the hob off and turned around to grab a plate he had set on the counter beforehand. He used the wooden spoon to scrape the toastie from the pan as the burnt cheese that spilled over its sides clung on.

Neither spoke as George performed this careful and intricate extraction.

And while it was just so entertaining to watch his flatmate work around his terrible cooking skills, Alex found his thoughts wandering off. It was subconscious thinking. Or can thinking be subconscious versus conscious? Alex was not sure. All he knew was he was not thinking about what to think. Nor were his thoughts connecting along with one another. It was random bursting thoughts.

Sparks of this feeling and that. Questions neither answered nor fully asked before another came along. Mostly, it was him reviewing everything he said earlier to Sammy and Y/N.

He thought he should learn to ask questions and talk less – not monopolize the conversation.
He asked himself why he could not think these same thoughts in the moment – when it mattered.

Why did I say that? Stupid. I looked stupid. Awkward. Stupid. Both. When will I learn to shut up?

And while a small voice shouted, it worked out!
There was too much of a ruckus elsewhere in his mind to give that small voice a chance.

With cheese toastie in hand, George started in the direction of his bedroom in hopes he could eat in peace while hunched over his keyboard like an (albeit attractive) gremlin.

"You know...quiche?" Alex piped up.

"Yeah. It's like egg-casserole, innit?" George stopped.

"Right. It's a breakfast food, wouldn't you think?"

"Eggs normally are, yes." George stopped, and it was there in his eyes (and in the slight sigh of frustration) the realization that he would not be escaping a conversation. He turned to take a bar seat and began eating in small quick bites. Like a mouse.

"I invited someone round to watch football with us later."

"Who? You don't have friends besides Will and them lot."

"I met him this afternoon. His name's Sam—err I mean, he goes by Sammy."

"How did you manage to shut up long enough to catch his name?" George coughed on his food – tasting the evident lack of love cooked into it. "And why does he sound like a golden retriever?"

Alex shrugged. "He is blond like a retriever. He and Y/N are moving-in right above us."

"Is this Y/N coming too?" George waggled his eyebrow.