The Soldier's Roommate

Chapter 5: It's just an arrangement.

Alice

I've always hated moving into a new place.

It just means new environments, packing and unpacking things, removing things and building them back up... It's exhausting.

I'm thankful when Felix volunteers to bring the moving truck back to the rental shop, that way I can unpack the rest of my boxes, hanging my clothes in the closet and things like that. Considering I don't own too many things it's all arranged pretty quickly, and by the time evening rolls around I'm already done, but it's not time for dinner yet, which would be one of my tasks I guess.

In order to kill time I take a tour of the house, on my own, because I have no idea where my broody and way too handsome roommate is, to be honest. I don't even know which one of the five other rooms is his bedroom. Not that I care.

I totally don't.

But I do care about the interior of this house - I just have to admit, it's extraordinary. The bathroom furniture is beautiful, copper fittings and old-fashioned ceramic tiles on the floors and walls give them a very rustic vibe, all while looking brand new. It's the perfect balance, really.

There's one guest room upstairs, right next to my room, while the library I already saw is adjacent to what I would guess is supposed to be an office, but it's neither furnished nor painted, no idea what he wants to do with that. And then there's the last room only a door away from both the library and the office, which must be Elijah's room, in conclusion.

I don't dare to knock or peeking inside, who knows whatever the hell he's doing, and so I decide to check out the kitchen, since that will probably be where I spend most of my time here at home.

Home.

Feels weird to call it that, somehow.

And still, I try to treat it as one. Placing my beloved porta filter machine on the counter I wipe over the surface, letting the cold marble graze my skin as I take a deep breath, trying to come to terms with everything. This is so much to consider, so much to think about. It's a lot, really. But I try to juggle it all, try to not let the anxiety overwhelm me.

Cooking always calmed me, at least it did for a long time. But then I started working at that restaurant, and it was really only a matter of weeks until my passion became my nightmare, simply because I got stuck in it. It was awful, and I hope I can come back to find the joy in it.

But first I have to make sure I feel comfortable here. I can only enjoy cooking when I feel safe in my kitchen, when I enjoy being here.

Plants always helped me with that, which is why I brought the ones I had home with me. Granted, most of them are cacti because I suck at watering them all at the right time, knowing where they need to be placed, not too much sun and still enough for them to do their thing... There's a reason biology is a science, really.

I place them all around the kitchen and living room, as well as in my room, and then I decide to at least try to be a good roommate; Maybe Elijah will appreciate a cactus in the library. He can't do much wrong with that, even though I don't think he'd actually be interested in it...

Well, whatever. He'll live.

I rush to the library, one of my finest cacti in hand as I step through the frame, but then I suddenly stumble over something, sending me face forward to the ground. The only way I can prevent smashing my face into the table is by steadying myself on my hands, which then ends up with the goddamn cactus in my palm. "Fuck!"

A sharp pain runs through my hand and wrist, and I slowly get back on my feet to inspect the damage. "Oh, you're fucking kidding me..."

There's about two dozen cactus thorns in my palm and wrist, some of them actually rather deep.