#mitchell being human

But of course, along with the fresh adoration of a new partner also came their baggage. It was something you expected. What you weren’t expecting however, were the skeletons in Mitchell’s closet to be so literal.

He had gone back and forth about telling you the truth and of course Annie had convinced him to be honest with you.

“If your feelings for her are real and you want a genuine relationship you have to tell her Mitchell.” 

He knew she was right, but it didn’t stop the anxiety weighing on his chest at the thought of rejection. It was terrifying. The possibility that you would run screaming kept him putting it off day after day until one night the two of you were having dinner at your apartment and it just kind of stumbled out of his mouth. 

“A Vampire?” 

The words slipped from you in a giggle, your face full of amusement at his confession. You figured he must’ve been trying to make some kind of stupid joke until you noticed his dead serious demeanor.

When he refused to meet your tickled expression with a smile of his own, your brain started running laps around itself trying to piece together the last few weeks of your life. Confusion and fear filled your senses and for a split second it felt like you were sitting across from a complete stranger. Despite your inner dialogue telling you to run, you didn’t leave. You didn’t even get up from your seat. You just sat and waited for him to explain himself further. 

So he did. He told you everything.

It took hours of explanations from him and hesitant stares from you, but after a night of discussing his condition you were sure he was telling the truth, and you were also somehow open to it. 

Mitchell was surprised by how understanding you had been about the whole thing. After the initial shock, the two of you laid on your couch until the sun came up and you interrogated him about his supernatural lifestyle.

he answered every last question. 

You learned about the different cities he’d lived in, the people he had known throughout his long life, who he once was, who he still longed to become. You admired his desire to live differently than the others like him. 

Even after listening to the man next to you give hour’s worth of evidence proving he was a bloodthirsty killer, you still managed to fall asleep in his arms. At the end of the day, it was still Mitchell; Mitchell who mopped floors and made crude jokes, Mitchell who was always there to give you a comforting smile or lighthearted wink when you were having a rough day, Mitchell who you had fallen head over heels for, Mitchell who wanted to be human so badly that he was attempting sobriety from the very thing his body craved most. Nothing could change the way you felt for him and so you held it together when he told you a secret about himself that he was sure would have your relationship unraveling.  

Only he didn’t tell you everything. There was one little detail about his life that he left out that night. He told you about the countless people he killed– about the guilt that ate away at him as he remembered their faces. He even confessed to you that he had given in to his bloodlust not long before you met. All the grim details about his murderous tendencies were true, but he made sure to leave out the part about how he killed them. 

You knew that he drank away their lives, that he consumed their blood until there was nothing left of them. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell you that it so often started by seducing a woman- getting her naked in bed, writhing and vulnerable underneath him. He hated that he’d weaponized sex for so long that he could no longer differentiate his longing for blood and his desire for sexual release– the two had become synonymous. It was so bad that anytime he found himself in a heated position with a woman he couldn’t tell if the passion he felt burning in his veins was actual yearning or just a desire to feed. This made his relationship with you extraordinarily difficult. 

You were so handsy. Of course you were. The two of you had been dating for nearly three months and the furthest you’d gone was a clothed second base. 

At first, Mitchell told you he wanted to take things slow, a little odd maybe, but you respected his boundaries and kept the physical touch to a minimum. But time went on, and the restraint you had both practiced began to falter. You started getting little tastes of what it would be like to have his hands on your body and his mouth on your skin it was driving you insane. Every time he kissed you, his lips lingered on yours and there was a certain hint of impatience that always peeked through. You could sense the hunger in the way he would crash his lips on you, his mouth molding to yours and his tongue tracing your bottom lip. Sometimes he would even let his hands find your hips gripping you tightly and pulling you into him as close as possible. Not to mention the little groans that would slip from him when you tugged on his hair. Those little grunts made you want to drop to your knees in front of him and see what other sounds you could pull from his mouth. 

You were constantly reminding yourself to take things slowly, but it was so hard when there was such a strong sexual tension tying the two of you together– or at least you thought there was; but based on the way Mitchell would break your kisses and take his hands off of your body like he just burned them on a stovetop, you were beginning to think maybe he wasn’t craving you in the same way.

Only there was no doubt in his mind that Mitchell wanted to fuck you. He was obsessed with you. He thought about what you looked like naked at least once a day and dreamed about hearing the little whimpers that you’d make when he was finally able to get between your legs. he wanted you, but he was terrified of possibly putting you in danger, so he tried to keep his hands to himself, Just for a little bit. 

At least that’s what he told himself at the beginning. He would work his way up to having sex with you. Like little practice runs, he would let himself give in to the temptation, a make out session here and there, maybe even some heavy petting- but he would always put an end to it before it went any further.

He had to pace himself with you. He needed to be able to control the blood driven part of him that had most of his hookups ending in red stained sheets. You deserved the best part of him. The part that he was convinced was still human. The part that could take his time and indulge in the intimacy of knowing another’s naked body. He knew that part of him still existed- he knew because you brought it out of him. With every touch of your hand to his cheek or the feeling of your sweet lips on his, he felt it. Hell, even when you had your fingers intertwined in his hair, pulling at it while you attacked his neck with kisses, he could feel a deep appreciation for the way you loved him. It was an innocent kind of love. It was pure and gentle and all-consuming and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it by pushing things too far. He wouldn’t ruin this- ruin you. 

But then you were straddling him on his bed. Your legs spread on either side of his hips as he grabbed onto you, guiding your movements as you slid your fully clothed center over his, your lips meshing in a messy kiss.

The house was empty other than the two of you who were now involved in a very heated make out session in his bedroom. His hands were splayed across your thighs, holding them hungrily and his mouth chasing yours. Neither of you were showing any intentions of holding back, so you took it upon yourself to take things a bit further. 

You let your hands fall to the button of his jeans–undiscovered territory that you were determined to explore at the feeling of his obvious arousal beneath you. Just as you were fumbling with the zipper of his jeans, Mitchell broke your kiss and took a hold of your wrist in an abrupt attempt to stop you. 

You looked down at him, trying your best to hide the defeat you felt from yet another rejection. His eyes looked almost remorseful before he averted his gaze downward to where your hands met, he was tracing little circles on your wrist. 

You were out of breath, chest heaving, and thoughts jumbled. You were trying not to read into it, but this whole situation was so confusing to you. Was there something you didn’t know? He seemed to be enjoying himself just moments ago; so why was he stopping? Did he ever intend to have sex with you? 

“Mitchell, are you attracted to me?” The words flew out of your mouth as you leaned back, still sitting on his lap. 

“What?” 

His expression was a mixture of confusion and amusement which only frustrated you further because what on earth did he have to be confused about? 

“Seriously. I get it if you want to take it slow, but It’s been weeks and I’m starting to get scared that you don’t actually want to have sex with me.” 

He was watching as you spoke, a small smile curling on his lips. He couldn’t help it; you were so cute and flustered sitting on top of him talking about how badly you wanted to have sex. How could he not be attracted to you? How could you think something so utterly insane? 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

You were questioning him and teasingly shoving at his chest so that his back sunk further into the mattress beneath him. The only response coming from the man laying under you was a low chuckle. 

“Mitchell, talk to me.” Your voice softened.

You were serious now; Mitchell could hear it in your worried tone and see it in the unsure gaze holding his own. 

He sat up with an audible sigh and you took that as a sign things were taking a more serious turn. 

You carefully moved off his lap, opting for a seat next to him and plopping down on the bed. You sat facing him with your legs folded underneath you and your hand gently resting on his thigh. 

Everything about you was inviting his awaiting admission; your body language, the gentle smile encouraging him to go on, the way your eyes fell on him in an already understanding gaze. You were too good for him– too kind. Here you were willing to accept every last part of him and he was getting ready to tell you he uses sex to aid his homicidal affinities. 

“I did want to take things slow- I do.” He started with his eyes glued on you.

”I just, I don’t want to hurt you.” He spoke slowly, still searching your eyes for any changes to your expression.

“And you’ll hurt me if we have sex?” You were trying to clarify and make sense of what Mitchell was saying.

“I used to-“ He began but stopped himself. 

He looked down at your hand on his leg. Your touch so sincere. 

“I used to use sex as a method of getting women alone and vulnerable so I could- you know...”

He was still staring down refusing to look at you as he spoke. He couldn’t stand to watch the inevitable look of fear on your face. 

“It was just so easy. The first time I had sex after I turned, it was such a rush. Everything was intensified; her heart rate, the blood rushing through her veins, how much control I had. I didn’t even realize what I was doing and then she was just...” 

His words were trailing off yet again, he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. That he was a manipulative evil monster who prayed on women and got off on killing them.

 It wasn’t true though. That side of him was something else entirely. It was someone he didn’t even recognize when he was with you. 

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt your delicate hands cupping his face, bringing his eyes up to meet yours. Instead of a look of terror, your face held nothing but forgiveness and warmth. 

“So you’re scared you’re going to kill me if we sleep together?” Your words were point blank as you stared into his eyes. 

“No.” His response was instant, but then quickly followed by a correction, 

“Well maybe. I don’t know, it’s complicated.” 

He paused.

“I never want to hurt you. I know that much.” 

The look in his eyes was so gentle, begging for the forgiveness you’d already given.

“There’s just this part of me that I can’t control, and I’m so scared that I’ll get too caught up and won’t be able to stop myself.”

“Have you ever had sex without-“ 

You began to ask but Mitchell finished your question for you.

“Killing someone?”

He looked away again, unable to come to terms with his own sinful memories.  

“Yeah, but it’s been a long time.” He confessed.

You leaned back on the bed creating a bit more space between your bodies. You had a million thoughts running through your mind but the only one that mattered was the realization of how much Mitchell had come to mean to you in such a short time. Everything felt right with him. You were immersed so deeply in his world that this new piece of information just felt like a little blip on the radar of your lives. You would figure it out together. All of it. 

“Well okay then, we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing until you feel ready.”

As soon as the words left your mouth his eyes were back on yours. He was giving you the most hopeful smile, it nearly melted you. God- you’d do anything for him. 

“And if you never do, then I’ll just invest in a really good vibrator.”

You were joking to help lighten the mood. You didn’t want Mitchell to feel like you were judging him or disappointed in the new information regarding your sex life. 

Your comment had Mitchell cracking a smile for the first time in last five minutes and the sight of it warmed your heart. You were both just sat there looking at each other with silly little grins plastered on your faces, the dark tension in the room slowly dissipating. 

The silence between you lasted for a few seconds, Mitchell looked as if he was contemplating something before he finally spoke.

“Is that how you’ve been surviving this whole time?” There was a hint of laughter dancing in his words.

“My sweet girl gettin’ so frustrated she has to run home to relieve herself?”

His head was now cocked to the side as he probed you with a follow up question. He was smirking, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on you. If he couldn’t see the goosebumps on your skin, he sure as hell could hear your heart racing. 

“I’m sorry baby, you shouldn’t have to take care of yourself like that.” 

Mitchell’s voice was low, and he was moving his body closer to yours. He was hovering over you as your back rested against the warmth of his comforter. The sound of your heartbeat was amplified in his ears by the sudden closeness. 

This was new, you thought. 

Mitchell had never been this bold with his words. It was so filthy– so tempting.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

His eyes were heavy and his jaw tense as he awaited your response.

You thought about him every single time you touched yourself, which was more often than you’d like to admit given the current circumstances of your relationship. You had come up with one hundred different scenarios that involved you and Mitchell naked in his bed to aid you in your self-induced pleasure. 

But instead of divulging all of that to him, you just nodded your head in a simple reply to his question. 

“Show me.” His voice was dripping with desire, and you thought his eyes might burn a hole through you with how hard he was staring. 

“Mitchell…” 

You suddenly felt so shy. Just minutes ago, you were grinding down on his lap hungry to unbutton his jeans. Now he was asking to watch you touch yourself and your confidence was wavering. 

“C’mon baby. I wanna see how you get off.” His tone was so sultry, you were nearly slipping your pants off at sound of it.  

“Let me see baby.” He was intertwining his fingers in your hair and pulling you in for another messy kiss. 

“Fuck- I think about it all the time. What it would be like to watch you cum.” His hands were now trailing down your body, his touch was more rough than usual, but you didn’t seem to mind. 

“I touch myself thinkin’ about you too baby.” His gaze was scorching, as he watched you fumbling with your jeans in such hasty desperation to get them off. 

“Always so worked up from not being able to touch you the way I want to. It drives me fuckin’ insane.”

Now he was assisting you; pulling your jeans down your thighs, just as needy to see your body freed from them. 

Mitchell’s hands instantly found the exposed skin of your thighs as soon as your jeans came off. He was basking in the feeling of your warm skin, memorizing the way you felt in his hands as he gripped and kneaded the flesh of your upper leg all the way up to your hips. 

You were pulling him back down in a frenzied kiss when you felt his hands at your sides teasing the material of your underwear. His fingers were hooked in the waistband of your panties, and you found the kiss getting sloppier the closer you got to being half naked on Mitchell’s bed. Your lips were moving in a chaotic harmony when he pulled back to speak again. 

“Is this okay?” 

It was as if he was breaking character for just a second. The dirty words of primal desire were replaced with a tender whisper. The man who was just ripping your jeans from your body was now searching your face for approval before going any further. 

“Mhmm.” You were humming and nodding your head simultaneously placing your hands over his on your hips and helping him peel your underwear from your body. 

“Jesus- fuck.”

Mitchell couldn’t help the profanities that fell from his mouth as you looked up at him with such an innocently sensual gaze while you guided his hands down your legs. You looked so desperate for him.  

You were kicking your panties from your legs and instinctively closing your thighs, partially for the friction but mostly due to the nerves of your sudden vulnerability.

 Mitchell could sense your brief hesitation and wanted nothing more than to make you feel comfortable. To tell you how fucking hot this was- because it was. He hadn’t had sex in so long he thought he might just cum in his pants from the sight of you like this. 

He kissed you once more, deep and passionate while his hands found their place back on your thighs. He was running his fingers over your skin and grabbing each of your legs slowly pulling them apart as he situated himself between them. Then he broke the kiss and sat back on his knees to get a better view at your body all sprawled out on his sheets. 

“Fuck you’re so perfect.” His voice was close to a groan as he gazed down at your exposed center. He was in a hypnotic state at seeing you spread open all for him, so wet and ready; he was losing his mind.

“I wanna see you baby.” 

His fingertips were tracing your inner thighs, and you almost had to shut your legs again at the sensation; his touch causing you to let out a shaky breath. 

“wanna see how you play with yourself when you think about me.” 

You were closing your eyes and letting your hand trail down your stomach until it reached your core. If it weren’t for the fact that you were so pent up with sexual frustration from all the nights you had to leave Mitchell’s house after make-out sessions that led nowhere, you might have been more embarrassed by how quick you were to oblige with his directions. You were eager to finally get some sort of relief from him, even if it came in the form of his eyes on your body and his foul whispers in your ear. 

Your fingers were circling your clit and the sounds that came from the man above you were utterly carnal. 

“fuckkk.”

In a long, drawn-out groan Mitchell was releasing pent up frustrations of his own while watching your hand between your legs. 

He had envisioned you like this a million times but not one of those images even came close to what he was witnessing right now. He’d intended on trying to keep his composure but as soon as your fingers met your cunt, he couldn’t contain himself. 

“That’s it baby.”

Mitchell swooned, his body practically shaking as he watched you. All he wanted to do was replace your hand with is. He wanted to feel you. Needed to show you that the little scenarios of him you had conjured up in your head weren’t even comparable to the real thing. 

“So pretty for me.”

His words were only pushing you further into the lust filled abyss that threatened to swallow you whole. Your fingers were working faster in tight little circles and moans were forming in your throat and fighting to fall from your lips. 

“Look at me baby.”

You followed his command, looking up at him. He was going back and forth between looking into your eyes and watching the hand between your legs. He felt the familiar simmer of heat in his chest and the buzzing in his head– sensations that often came with his inability to stop himself from indulging in his deepest desires. He was teetering on the edge of losing all control when he found your eyes again, your tender stare bringing him back to reality. 

“Do you wish it was me touchin’ you like that.” He kept talking, hoping it would help tether him to his humanity. 

The low growl of his voice had you feeling brave enough to bring your hand lower, dipping a finger into yourself and whimpering out in pleasure at the thought of it being his touch instead. 

“Bet I could make you feel so good with my fingers- fuck.” 

The second he saw your hand venture lower he could feel his cock swelling in his pants. There was absolutely no way he would be able to keep his hands to himself now. Not while he watched you slipping your delicate little fingers into your cunt- something he had quite literally dreamed of doing for months now. 

“Oh sweet girl I need to touch you.”

You watched as he palmed himself through his jeans, the look on his face was so needy it made you bite down on your lip to muffle the obscene sound that fought its way to your mouth. 

“need to fuckin’ feel ya baby.”

And with that his lips were crashing into yours, your chests touching and moans mixing. You felt his hand on your inner thigh and nearly jumped when it skipped to your soaked core, his finger already pushing into you. 

“So wet for me huh?.” He was gathering your arousal and spreading it at your opening as he easily added a second finger along with the first. 

His head dipped down and his lips came in contact with the nape of your neck and you flinched. 

Your earlier conversation was still fresh in your mind, and you couldn’t help the involuntary recoil. Having Mitchell so worked up and putting his mouth on your neck startled you.  

He halted, every single one of his movements pausing as he drew his head back just enough to lock eyes with you. He had every intention of kissing down your neck, just wanting to envelop you in the feeling of his lips on your sensitive skin. He wasn’t even thinking about sinking his teeth into the flesh there, but once he felt you shrinking away from his touch, he felt awful. Shit did he scare you.

“Hey.”

He was searching your eyes, his expression full of worry. 

“I won’t hurt you.” A flip had switched, and his voice was now soft and reserved. 

“You’re safe.” He was reassuring you and now you felt bad for overreacting. 

You pulled him back to you in an affectionate kiss. 

“I’ve got you, I promise.” With that he was slowly moving his fingers inside you again. His thrusts were gentle, and he kept his eyes on you. He was being so careful, it was endearing. 

He had never felt so in control. It was a strange feeling, to be physically intimate with someone and not have a single hunger driven thought. While he had plenty of unsavory thoughts about you running through his mind, not even one had to do with his thirst for blood. All of them centered around hearing the cute little sounds you were making and watching you cum all over his fingers. 

He could sense your body relaxing under his touch and he watched your eyes flutter closed as his fingers curled into you. He was taking advantage of your comfort and switching to a faster pace. 

You had to squeeze your eyes shut completely as his fingers worked faster and depper. You were doing your best to keep quiet, scared that maybe someone would come home and be able to hear you, but with the way Mitchell was touching you, you finally let go of your worries. A lengthy moan fell from your lips, and had him groaning in response. 

“That’s it baby, don’t hold back.” 

He was encouraging your noises of satisfaction as he brought his lips back to your neck. Only this time, instead of flinching from the sudden attention, you tilted your head to the side to give him better access. You could feel him smirking against your skin. 

He was placing sweet kisses behind your ear while his fingers worked harder sliding in and out of you. His movements were perfectly executed, each thrust of his digits curling into you at the perfect spot and causing whispered profanities to form on your tongue. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it almost shocked you how close he had you to an orgasm already. 

“You feel that baby?” His voice was a mumble against the crook of your neck.

You were whining out a pathetic “yes” as he kept his pace, not holding back. You could feel your release building higher and higher, Mitchell’s fingers getting deeper alongside it. The exposition to your climax felt more intense than you’d ever experienced, and you were reaching for Mitchell’s forearm attempting to steady his movements, but all you were doing was pushing him on further.

“Let it out for me baby.” His voice was shaky, and it sounded as if he was holding back moans of his own.

Hearing him get so aroused by talking you through your pleasure only added to the pressure building in your core. 

“C’mon sweet girl I can feel you. So fuckin’ close.” 

You were writhing below his touch, whimpering and allowing yourself to give into the feeling of Mitchell’s fingers as he deliberately made sure each stroke hit the right spot. The sensation forming in your belly was almost too much to bear. 

Your relief was surging closer to release, like a wave it just kept building and you weren’t sure if you could handle it. And then, with Mitchell pushing into you, whispering little praises into your ear, you were coming undone. The floodgates were opened and your release was crashing over you, intense and all consuming. You were speechless as you felt yourself gushing over Mitchell’s fingers still deep inside you. He was coaxing you through your release, watching as you soaked his hand.

“Mmm look at that baby.” his voice was seeping with lust and he was looking between your bodies in a trance by the mess you were making beneath him. 

“Good girl.” He was growling and slowing the movements as he watched you come down from your high.

You were out of breath and in a state of pure bliss as you stared up at Mitchell. 

“Good fuckin’ girl.” With him looking back at you, you could see the look of pride in his expression, a smug smile on his lips.

“God I’m never gonna be able to get enough of you.” He brought his mouth down to you, locking his lips with yours in a hungrily passionate embrace.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care about the mess on Mitchell’s sheets or the fact that you didn’t think you could form words at the moment. All you wanted was to keep going, to make Mitchell feel just as good as he had made you feel. 

You were pushing yourself onto your elbows and making every effort to find your way to the obvious erection in his jeans. 

As much as Mitchell wanted to spend the entire night fucking you in every way imaginable, he knew it was too risky. Hell, he had almost lost his control before he even laid a finger on you.

While he felt excited by his newfound ability to venture further into this territory with you, he still wanted to take it step by step. He wanted to make sure he could trust himself– that you could trust him. 

“next time.”

He was grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips, sealing his promise with a kiss to your palm.

You were pouting, but also inwardly thankful for his guarantee of future sexual escapades. 

“Don’t wanna bite off more than we can chew, yeah?” 

He was grinning to himself and leaning down to place a quick kiss on your forehead before hoping off his bed and searching for a towel. 

Annie followed them both all over the house, especially at first, chatting a mile a minute. She had housemates that could see her and they were supernatural themselves; how perfect was that? George was reluctant to answer her werewolf questions, but Mitchell was usually obliging about her vampire questions.

She knew she accidentally crossed a line when he suddenly fell silent, eyes dim, staring at nothing. It took three calls of his name to bring him back.

“Sorry, Annie,” he said, his smile sweet, his eyes dull. “You were saying?”

Annie changed the subject. She hovered outside his door that night, trying to work up the courage to knock. He must have sensed her, because the door suddenly swung open and there he was, looking down at her with surprise.

Annie held up her favourite tray as an offering; one Batman mug, one Snow White mug, a plate of biscuits. “I brought hot chocolate,” she offered anxiously, and Mitchell let her in. They spent half the night talking and giggling like kids at a sleepover.

The first time she popped in on George in the shower, he shrieked at the top of his lungs and threw his bottle of shampoo at her. It went right through her, which felt strange, an odd swooping sensation in her stomach; it smashed into the wall and cracked open, spraying coconut shampoo all over the wall and floor.

“Do you MIND!?” George shrieked as Mitchell came running to see what the hullabaloo was about, and immediately started laughing at them.

“Sorry!” Annie said cheerfully. “Just wanted to check if you want any tea? I’m making some more.”

“I am in the shower. Out! Both of you out!”

Cackling, Mitchell left, gesturing for Annie to follow.

The first time she popped in on Mitchell in the shower, he just sort of blinked at her, laughed, and happily chatted with her. Annie enjoyed the conversation and the view. George stared in horror when he got home as Mitchell cheerfully recounted his day with Annie, including their shower conversation.

The next day, George came home with a shower curtain and a grim look of determination on his face. The curtain was blue, patterned with clown fish and starfish, and George nodded in satisfaction when he got it hanging around the shower-bath combo. It looked a little lopsided, no matter what he did, even when it was hanging correctly.

“You act like I’m some pervert,” Annie said indignantly.

George glowered at her. “You are.”

Mitchell only shrugged. “We can still have our chats,” he said. He stood behind George, draped over him like some sort of cloak or blanket, as clingy as a koala, all long limbs and surprising elegance. George sighed and patted one of Mitchell’s hands, which was on George’s chest, apparently used to his friend getting clingy. Annie wondered if he’d ever let her get clingy with him like that.

All the same, she allowed herself a little sulk. She wasn’t some kind of pervert! It was more like being dead made boundaries hazy. She got swept up in the excitement of it all. Hardly worth making a fuss over.

“Mitchell doesn’t mind,” she grumbled.

“Mitchell,” George said sternly, “is a messy bag of trauma who doesn’t know what healthy boundaries are.”

“I do!” Mitchell protested.

“Oh yes? Then let go of me.”

“Fuck off, no.” If anything, Mitchell held on tighter.

“Case in point,” George sighed. He didn’t try to get Mitchell off him, though. Just reached back and ruffled Mitchell’s hair. She thought they were adorable.

Annie was quickly coming to love these two wonderful weirdos. They were her weird housemates. Housemates who could see her, who bought her the books and magazines she asked for, who (mostly) drank her tea. Housemates who spoke to her, who laughed with her and liked her. They bought CDs and movies she liked and indulged her ceaseless need for stimulation. They wanted her around. Even George.

Just not in the shower. Okay, Annie would work on it. George added her to the take-out and movies rota, even though she couldn’t eat and adored the cheesy rom-coms he hated, she would leave him alone in the shower.