S ᴇ ɴ s ᴀ ᴛ ɪ ᴏ ɴ ᴀ ʟ ɪ s ᴍ

undeadjournalism:

The clicking of the pen immediately ceased. Andy leaned forward in his seat with a quirked brow and a scorned expression, much like a mother about to lecture her son on something he did wrong. “Vague annoying? What is that supposed to mean? I wasn’t aware that people could be explicitly annoying. Please, feel free to educate me.”

 “It means that you’re annoying…but vaguely.” Vincent bit his tongue and grinned. “What’s wrong, Andy? Don’t you get it. I didn’t think it’d be an enigma to you. You’re vague annoying all the goddamn time.” Now he was just trying to get on Andy’s nerves. 

undeadjournalism:

Rolling up the sleeves of his burgundy top, Andrew shrugged lightly. “Not really.” His dark brown eyes trailed off along with his voice, growing rather quiet. He wasn’t one to talk when he felt like this. “Are you still writing about whatever it was? That stupid thing.” His lips curled in disgust, everything he wrote sounded so boring to Andy whether it was the texture of cheese or some weird thing, he never paid much attention.

He turned his attention to outside, it was raining and it splattered against the windows. Maybe he should do something utterly stupid, more stupid that sitting and clicking a pen frequently enough to make his poor roommate go mad, like walking in the rain. In fact he was almost daring enough to do it.

 Vincent found himself smiling a bit. “You mean infrastructure?” He at least tried to sound interested in his own writing when it came to topics as boring as asphalt and cement. He just thought it was funny how disgusted and bored Andy sounded just talking about ‘the stupid thing’. He couldn’t blame him but whatever it took to pay bills, right?

 After a moment of listening to the rain, he leaned back in his seat and sighed. “You alright? You’re being annoying…but in a different way.” Vincent turned his head to watch the rain as well. “Like, vague-annoying.” His voice went soft for a second. 

undeadjournalism:

“Of course I fucking have. Why wouldn’t I?” Andy rolled his dark brown eyes before scrounging through the fridge for something to eat. He didn’t find much of interest in there so he settled on a blueberry bagel he found in the pantry. 

 “Mostly because you look like you got a layer of grime on you.” The coffee machine sputtered out it’s last drops into the coffee pot as Vincent took down two mugs from the cupboard and filled them both. He handed one to Andy and kept the other for himself.  

undeadjournalism:

“You are disgusting.” Andrew recoiled from the puddle of vomit on the floor, the strong scent violating his nostrils as they scrunched like a bunny’s. “That wasn’t a compliment.” Despite the unfavourable situation, Andrew did smirk at his attempt at a joke. “Yes, it does look like you.” Chuckling, he felt quite smug now as he turned around and kept on, there were more important things to take care of than Vinny’s puke.

 Vincent smiled and spat on the floor beside him. He still wasn’t feel too great but he kept walking near Andrew. Even after he threw up, he wasn’t feeling any better. He was starting to get worried but hoped that it was nothing, even though he doubted it was nothing. He sighed and looked around. “So what do we do?”

“Well, one thing’s for fucking sure,  I am not cleaning that up.” Andy step-sided the vomit on the floor, not wanting to get his expensive shoes ruined. How he could afford them on a shitty journalist’s salary was one of life’s greatest mysteries.

undeadjournalism:

Dark circles decorated Andy’s eyes, his hair messy and uncombed, stubble graced his face as he pulled out a chair in the small kitchen they shared. “Sure.”

 “Please tell me you’ve at least showered within the past two days.” He grabbed a package of coffee grounds and loaded the coffee machine. “When was the last time you shaved?” He was actually concerned.

 “You look like shit…Do you want a cup of coffee or somethin’?”