The Man Who Never Speaks

10. Lily

"I want you to know
I'm a mirrorball
I'll show you every version of yourself tonight
I'll get you out on the floor
Shimmering beautiful
And when I break it's in a million pieces."

————

Alice was standing right in front of her red door at Elm Street, her hand on the doorknob. Leaving the house every morning and returning every single night all by herself had something she had done for months. It had become a ritual, one she became familiar with.

But she wasn't alone like she usually was. Next to her was the man she was falling hard for, his hand tightly clutched into her own. A few weeks ago she had invited him to visit her house and today he finally felt ready to take that step with her.

FP never came somewhere else except his own house. The cabin, his garden, the woods, it had been his home for eighteen years. It was all he knew, the only place so far that he really felt safe.

If he really had a need to go out, he always chose to go to Greendale. Nobody knew him there, he was free of judgement. But Riverdale? That was a big no go. He was delighted to notice that ever since Alice had been around, he had dared to take small steps to become part of the world again. Agreeing to visit her house was a good begin.

"Are you sure you're ready?" She asked him, a small smile curling on her lips.

Her heart was thumping in her chest as for the very first time she was going to let someone into the place she called home ever since she moved to town. She wasn't even sure why she was so nervous as she believed it shouldn't be a big deal to invite him into her home. Yet, she was very aware of how the tables were slowly turning. It wasn't just her helping FP open up, now it was time for her to show a little more of herself. Truth to be told, she was terrified.

"Definitely." He assured her, giving her hand a squeeze.

She had been at his home so often that it was time for him to see how she lived. He really wanted to see more of her and find out what was behind the woman that had touched a part of his soul.

Alice unlocked her door and walked inside, followed by FP closely behind. While she hung up her jacket, he walked to the living room and let his eyes drift around.

It was a typical modern home, way different than his own little place. The style in the cabin was old fashioned, which wasn't surprising since he hadn't changed anything for the last two decades, but nonetheless it was warm. It showed part of who he was and that is what it made his home. He couldn't quite feel that in the room he was living in.

One thing in particular caught his attention— it was as if he had walked right into a catalogue home. He couldn't spot one thing that made her home hers.

"Don't you have any pictures?" He turned around to look at her, his eye brow furrowed.

His eyes had scanned the whole living room to find something, but nothing was there. Maybe it was because his whole place was decorated with either stuff from Fred or his own teenage years and his paintings, that he missed that in her home. There didn't seem to be anything that radiated her personality. Alice shook her head slightly, swallowing the lump in her throat at the same time.

"It's so impersonal..." FP said carefully, looking around once more to see if he had missed something.

No trinkets. No paintings. No pictures. Nothing. Just all the things that were really necessary.

"Had you expected anything different?" Alice asked him, her voice soft.

After deciding to move away from her husband and the town she used to live in at the West coast, she had decided that she didn't want to be reminded of her old life. Everything she had ever owned, was either burned or thrown away. It had helped her feel brand new, though she wished she could get rid of the painful memories that were forever carved into her brain.