you'll never feel the same

She rolled her eyes at him, just the smallest hint of blush coming to kiss her cheeks. Her back pressed up against the kitchen wall and she reached for a bowl for him to ash his cigarette in, sliding it over to him. “Orange? Of all colors, I did not expect that. Color me surprised.” She slid down a bit and hopped up onto the counter before starting to nibble at some grapes in a nearby bowl. Her eyes rolled. “Oh, I’m so honored you’d let me use the toolbox I’m going to pay for. What would I do without you, your grace.” A smirk and she bit down on a grape. “Are we shopping for fuck furniture?”

He grabbed the bowl and gently tapped the cigarette so the ashes would fall into it. “Yeah, orange. I’ll color you any way you like,” he winked. “But seriously, I think orange toolboxes are cool because you can’t really lose them- they’re orange. Although if I find a nice blue one, I’ll pick that instead. Blue’s my other favorite color; you’re the first.”

He leaned against the wall, watching her pick at the grapes. It was those lips, he concluded. Those lips of her were the one thing that could always steal his attention, regardless of what it was they were doing. Whether wrapped around a cigarette or expertly forming words, or even now, while she ate, her lips drew him in like magnets. But neither should one be fooled: just because he was distracted by the plush, colored lips of her did not mean the rest of his brain stopped working. Oh no, not even the parts he wished would stop working. Silently, almost unaware he was doing it, he counted how many grapes she ate, mentally adding and subtracting numbers and more numbers. It was a curse he didn’t know how to get rid of. 

“You are honestly the biggest pain in my ass.” Don’t let her words fool you, she was dawning the biggest smile. Her tongue slipped out to wet her lips as thin fingers passed him the rest of her cigarette. “Take this and shut up. Please.” A smile, albeit sarcastic. “So that was basically your confession that you’ve never used those tools in your life, so that’s… concerning. If we do this, we have to stop somewhere and get a toolbox cause I got like.. two spatulas and and some tacks to my name.”

“Velvet is the most comfortable material on earth, next to like fucking alpaca or some shit, so— wrong. Second, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you hold a pair of tweezers, let alone actual TOOLS.” Her brows raised as the cigarette was swiped and she was quick to give his shoulder a whack. “Fucker, get your own. You’re over here beggin’ for a new couch and then you steal my ciggie.” She cackles and swipes the smoke back to take another drawl. “You’re not getting anywhere with your half-assed argument.”

“It’s not the velvet I have an issue with, it’s the couch’s frame itself. Like I said, it’s not springy enough,” he insisted with a giggle. “Also, it’s seriously awesome how much you believe in me, I’m eternally blessed to have you by my side,” he continued sarcastically. “I cut my own hair, so I can at least manage a pair of scissors... and razorblades. And uh... seriously, how hard can it be? They do include instructions in the packaging, after all.” He leaned in to steal a quick peck on her cheek before flashing her a sad puppy look. “You can share the smoke... Don’t be selfish, Vi.”

“Uh, okay, here’s the thing with that though: I’m not putting that shit together, my couch is vintage velvet so fuck you, and you sleep with me, not on the couch, so.” She offered him a sarcastic smile and lit up a fresh cigarette. “Love you tho, tiny Robert Smith.”

“So hey, Vi, I was thinking... D’ya think we could get a new couch? Not saying I don’t like the one we have right now, but I mean... no, yeah, I don’t like it. It’s not springy enough and it’s too small for me to sleep on. Besides, it gives us an excuse to go to Ikea, and you know Ikea’s always fun,” he offered. Maybe, just maybe, he was simply looking for an excuse to build Swedish furniture.