for @oc-october And They Were Roommates... day 18, out of context at some point Amara shares an apartment with Jude and his little sister Talia, it is domestic af
it’s strange. awfully strange to wake up on a fold out couch, and hear the sound of soft voices drifting in from another room, muffled and low. for a moment, she thinks she’s back in one of her homes- foster homes- not a specific one, but the aching in her back and the hushed voices bring back a sort of bitter nostalgia. instead of dwelling on it, she sits herself up, looking about the room and trying to get her bearings.
blue walls, scruffy green carpets, colors everywhere, clashing against each other. like a child had designed it, and remembering Jude’s small sister, and noting the many finger paintings taped to the walls, it isn’t unlikely that she had. the place looks like a home, lived in, a strange concept. all the blankets are a little worn, the chairs and couch have indents and stains on them. and... there’s laughter from the other room, a shushing followed by a giggle. she smiles to herself, not wanting to make her presence known just yet. what would it be like to have to something like this? to have someone to depend on you all the time, to love and cherish in hold?
she fantasizes a little too much for her own good.
finally, she stands, the carpet rough against her bare feet. she pads towards the next room, finding herself intruding on the sort of domestic scene she used to long for when she was ten years old and didn’t know any better. Jude stands in front of a stove, Talia sits on top of the counter, her legs dangling over the edge, swinging back and forth. Jude keeps reaching to try and wipe something off of her cheek but she pulls back, laughing. he’s laughing too. and she just stands there, in awe of the comfort and the love in the air.
she has to force herself to break through the scene with her voice. “uh. hi, could you point me towards the bathroom?”
Jude looks over his shoulder, and smiles. “’morning! just down the hall, first door on the right. there are towels and soaps and things already in there, if you need it.”
she nods, backing away quickly. the air hadn’t felt awkward, he hadn’t even hesitated to point her around his home and his smile hadn’t faltered once, but she felt as if it should’ve. she only stops once to grab clothes out of her suitcase, not really paying attention to what she grabs or to what sort of weather she should be dressing for. the bathroom is small, quaint, with baby pink tiles on the floors and similarly colored walls. the shower curtain is covered in cartoonish pictures of forest animals, the types you’d see in a child’s hardcover picture book; snails, rabbits, turtles. she just stands there for a moment, staring at the wall opposite the door to ground herself. what the hell is she doing? what is she doing here?
logic says she needed a place to stay, that she can’t sleep on the streets for so many reasons despite having done it before. logic says it was a good opportunity, that he’s a good guy and there’s nothing wrong with taking up a little space every once in awhile. and that’s the problem, he’s a good guy, a really good guy. this is reckless and she knows it, but logic says it’s alright. it’s just for awhile. it’s the most convenient option, why would she stay in a crappy motel a town over and take a bus back to this same apartment every day when she could just sleep... on his couch.
“jesus.” is what falls off of her lips in response to this very long, very overwhelming train of thought. she turns on the shower as hot as it can get and throws a towel over the mirror before she can catch a glimpse of herself, she doesn’t think she’d be able to handle that right now. it’s not as if she doesn’t see herself anymore, in the windows of shops and buses, or in the reflection of her phone screen back at her. but there’s something so intimate about bathroom mirrors, how she could look into her own eyes forever and she’d never reach the end. they always told her that her eyes were haunting. deep and dark and never ending in a way that isn’t beautiful, it’s terrible.
steam builds up in the room before too long and she tries to quell the thoughts in her mind with scalding hot water and a lavender scented shampoo. it was offered, she might as well take advantage of a chance to wash her hair. her shower is quick and cleansing, washing away much of the tension and worry that sits on her chest. she dresses before any more of those thoughts can cross her mind, trying not to think about anything too hard.
when she enters the kitchen again, running her fingers through her damp hair, occupying her thoughts with trivial things. there is a painting of a sparrow on the wall, she passed two doors on her way back through the hallway. the doors are painted a beige cream color. it’s so easy to get lost in the details of this place.
“hey.” she announces her presence softly, and catches the eye of Talia, who waves at Amara, which makes Amara smile in the way only five year old girls can make you smile. “i was just going to walk down to that coffee shop, to get something to eat. just wanted to let you know.”
“oh, we made you some breakfast. right, Tali?” Talia nods.
“oh.” that she hadn’t been expecting, especially when Jude pushes an already made plate of eggs on toast, and an orange, pre-sliced.
“if you don’t want it, that’s totally alright.” Jude says casually, and he sounds genuine, as he lifts Talia off the counter and sets her on the ground.
“no, no, I just haven’t- nobody really makes me food.” she replies.
“oh.” he frowns. “well, they should.”
she doesn’t really hear him point her towards the table just outside the living room where she had been sleeping, but she manages to find her way there and sit down anyways.
after a minute of quiet, Jude comes towards her, tapping the table once in front of her to get her attention. “i’ll be right back, one of my friends is watching Talia for the day. i’m seeing her off downstairs.
“okay.”
and he’s gone.
what is she doing?
