Where am I, and who are you?

Chapter 2

word count:

Schlatt's POV:

I tried to remember what had happened the night prior as much as possible, but it was fairly useless. Everything was a haze of alcohol and dingy lights.

So, instead I contemplated why I was here. I realized that the Brit and I didn't actually do anything, which meant he let  me stay the night out of kindness or maybe pity. Or maybe even in exchange of goods or/and services. That seemed a lot more likely. My stomach dropped at that thought. What the hell had I gotten myself into.

Either way I wanted to stay on his good side. Maybe I could help out? Cook or clean? That is of course assuming that I'm not just spending the one night.

I was torn away from my thoughts by the thundering bark of a dog a few floors below me.

It didn't take me long to find a broom, it took me a lot longer to actually sweep. Some of the dust flew up into the air, making me cough and sneeze. Apart from that it went rather uneventfully.

After i finished sweeping I wiped down most of the windows with water and paper towels (only because I couldn't find any cleaning spray). This took a while since the windows were caked in dust. I threw away the soiled paper towels and moved to sit down on the couch. The springs in the sofa made such an alarming sound when I sat on them that I was worried I'd break the thing. I took a break from cleaning since my headache was coming back to haunt me. I held my fingers against my temples for a bit, trying to get the world to stop spinning.  After a few minutes of my headache worsening I figured I should go check if I could find any medicine.

I stumbled back through the narrow corridor to the bathroom. I was reminded of the state of the place when I noticed grime lining most of the cream colored tiles. I tried to ignore it and opened the sink cabinet. A few empty toiletry bottles were scattered around, but I was a lot more taken aback by the amount of medicine I found. Boxes upon boxes, some half full some empty, but all with different names with a few too many syllables. I sifted through them looking for anything even just resembling an aspirin, but found no such thing. Defeated, I tried to think of something else to do instead.

I realized how hungry I actually was when I heard my stomach grumbled in protest of lack of food. I didn't really feel like cooking, but what else was there to do? Slowly, I hobbled to the kitchen.

After sifting through the practically empty kitchen I settled on roast potatoes and chicken. It was quick,
easy and hopefully manageable for my hungover self. I quartered the spuds, (which were probably only a few days from going bad) drizzled some oil over them and seasoned them with salt and pepper. I did the some with some frozen chicken and threw it on a pan. I then chucked all of that in the oven.

As I washed my oily hands I felt myself once agin become light headed. I practically collapsed onto the rickety couch. It screeched at me as I sank into the springs. I looked up, watching the lampshade around me do backflips. My vision became blurry as I struggled to catch my breath. I fell into an uneasy sleep.

..........

I woke to the sound of keys being aggressively shoved into a lock. I furrowed my brow and scrunched my nose at the sound of metal meeting metal. I turned over on an unfamiliar sofa trying to escape the racket. As footsteps and a lighthearted chuckle echoed around me I started to come to and realize where i was. Then those same footsteps became rushed and moved behind me. The distracting sound of metal falling resonated. I sat up and over the couch saw Wilbur standing over a pan of slightly charred spuds.
"Morning'"
"Sorry bout that, didn't mean to burn it."

My words were slurred with sleep.For a moment I forgot who he was and thought an angel had walked into the kitchen. He took off his black beanie and adjusted his hair as he spoke to me

"It's okay it's still edible. Should I bring you a plate?"
I nodded subtlety.
"Not a lot though."

I watched him pull out two plates and forks from some drawers and start filling up the plates.

"Where did you go this morning?"
"Was at a gig. Oh! I forgot to tell you, I play guitar at events and stuff and get paid miserably.Thats my occupation."
"Oh."

He moved to the couch and sat down next to me, there was hardly enough space for the two of us.

"So.... What happened last night?"
" How much do you remember?"
"I remember seeing you on stage.."
"Damn. Okay, well, when I finished playing you practically dragged me off stage. We sat down at the bar and talked of our woes for a while. Long story short we made a deal."
"A deal?"

I noticed that he broke eye contact, instead focusing on the food in his lap. He nodded. I became worried. Hopefully I didn't get myself into anything too bad.

"Well, this might sound crazy now that you're not drunk off your ass. But I agreed to provide you with a roof over your head and food for free for two months...."
"In exchange for what?"

Now I myself struggled to keep looking at him. There was a sharp intake of air before he continued.

"I'm going to my family's place for the winter holidays. And I told them that I would bring my boyfriend. The only problem is that I.. i don't actually have one. So the deal was that you come with me and pretend that we are dating, for like three weeks."

The brunettes blush had noticeably deepened. He was picking at his finger nails. They weren't bleeding, yet. I let myself relax and fall into the couch.

"That's not nearly as bad as I thought it would be."
"I- it's not?"
"No, not at all."

The Brit perked up. When I looked up he wore a slightly quizzical yet relieved expression. His head was slightly tilted to the side, similar to what a dog would do. I found comfort in the fact that I had made him happy like this.

"So, when do we leave?"
"Tomorrow, actually."