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The scent of fresh paint and lemon scented cleaning supplies lingers in the air.
This is the first thing Mark breathes in when he steps inside their new apartment on Durdam Lane.
It’s a little house. Not too big, not too fancy, certainly nothing out of their price range.
There’s no outdoor water fountain yet, no unlimited channels from space, no ghost(s) floating around in their apartment haunting them - except maybe the ghosts of the former people who might have lived there before. And Mark wonders if this is how they felt too. Did they walk inside all starry eyed and excited? Ready to turn over a new leaf, and finally have a place of their own? Ready to tackle that new job, meet those new friends, start a new family, full of hope and bursting dreams?
He can't really speak for any of them because he's never met them before. He can only speak for himself - the way his pulse races when the owner gives them their respective sets of keys, the surge of happiness he feels when he turns the door knob for the first time, when he looks outside the window and can see a perfect view of their new neighborhood. And the only thing he can think as he takes in his surroundings is God, why didn't we do this any sooner?
The house is dusty and barren, but Mark doesn't mind at all. It actually makes him feel a little excited.
There's so much potential living in this house. So much room for it to grow.
He thinks about the dramatic movie scenes where the main character finds this powerful book for the first time and sweeps away all of the dust to reveal the cover, sparkly and ready to be explored, ready for adventure. Mark figures he could put up with the dust for a little while. Allergies be damned.
This house is a new chapter for them, in the metaphorical sense, and he’s too proud to admit how fast his heart is beating in his chest.
When Mark was a kid, he spent most of his childhood daydreaming about growing up - and it's funny how little kids always wanted to grow up too fast, while adults lamented about missing their youth. Mark always imagined having a big house of his own. He would live alone, maybe his friends would visit every now and again, and if he met a wonderful girl, maybe he would settle down with her. But for the most part, he prepared to live by himself.
And this didn't bother him in the slightest.
Mark never feared solitude; he found it comforting, almost reassuring. A little I'm here, I'm okay, and I don't need anyone else. He didn't push people away, but he preferred his own company over the company of other people.
Most people were too loud for him, they talked about things that they didn't understand well enough, and they spoke like they had the answers to everything. Talking to them made Mark feel... empty. He became drained after socializing with them for too long. And when he tried to put his feelings into words, most people didn't understand it.
Eventually, he gave up trying to explain it. It felt pointless; maybe he really was the odd one out here.
Still, he was most comfortable with himself when he was alone; he could have a break, recharge for the upcoming day. If he lived alone, he would be content, not lonely.
Because Mark was always enough, and even when he wasn't, he still had to be, because all he had was himself. No one else knew him as well as he did. And it would stay that way, and he would be satisfied.
...Life has a funny way of flipping the script on you when you think you can predict it.
Because now he's going to be living with two other people, and he can't even begin to imagine a life without them.
He adores his roommates - or, should he say, his friends, but he guesses he could technically call them his roommates now. Even the idea of saying his roommates is making him feel lightheaded in the best way possible, and that's definitely going to take some time to get used to.
In his old friendships, Mark felt so selfish, so afraid to ask for the personal space that he desperately needed. He felt trapped, stuck in a cage. He didn't want to be labelled as a bad friend for speaking his mind, and he already had people calling him cold and uncaring many times before. So Mark put on an act: he was the perfect friend for the first few months, the best friend - quite literally and figuratively. He went to every party, every social meetup, sent text messages and phone calls out nearly every single day. It was draining, sure, and every now and again, he would crawl home and throw the covers over his head, and yell into his pillow and wish all of his friends would disappear. And he hated feeling this way, he knew it wasn't right, they meant so well! But nearly every social interaction left him feeling so empty inside, and he was pouring out so much energy into people who made him feel more hollow than he was in the beginning.
Eduardo and Jon were different, though.
They cared about him in all the right ways and let him have his space when he needed it. When they did meet up, Mark always enjoyed their company. He didn't have to talk much, he didn't feel like he had to say the right things to make them stay. He didn't have to fake his personality, fake his laughter. And he never felt pressured to hang out with them, no matter how many times they asked.
They carried most of the conversations for him while he sat back and observed, occasionally throwing in one-liners here and there. They accepted him for who he was, never questioned his silence or asked him to change.
And then one day, Mark began to crave more and more of their company, and he realized oh shit, this is what it's like to have friends who care about him the same way he does.
The bond between them was addictive.
Chemistry. Something magnetic. They're all so different, yet they managed to click so effortlessly. Puzzle pieces that finally found each other.
Mark couldn't believe he ever thought about living alone.
Because right now, where he is with them, right here, he doesn't want to be anywhere else.
He feels a tug at his heartstrings. Guess this must be what it's like to finally feel complete.
Most of their furniture hasn’t come yet, so the house feels extra spacious. The unfilled room makes the apartment look bigger than it actually is, but this only makes Mark feel excited all over again.
His roommates seem to be thinking the same thing.
The first time Jon walks into the apartment - and after he’s grown tired of repeating oohs and ahs every five seconds - he grabs Mark's hands and spins them around until they’re both giggly and dizzy. Mark feels a little nauseous, but he's too overjoyed to care.
Eduardo does a cartwheel in the empty space just to prove that he can, after Jon betted him that he couldn't, and after Mark didn’t believe him when he said that he could. Mark records it when he isn't looking, a memento of sorts, but since it's on video he almost wishes Eduardo busted his ass or something. It doesn't matter, though. They're in high spirits because this is their house, and it belongs to them-
(well technically, it’s not theirs because of the lease agreement and everything)
but damn, it practically feels like it’s their own house, and they could do whatever they want-
(as long as they followed the rules outlined in the contract, and paid the rent every month)
-AHEM, and this was their safe haven from the rest of the world.
And it's amazing, maybe a little terrifying, but more amazing than anything else.
What should we do now? is the unspoken question that lingers between the roommates as they buzz around with excitement.
The empty apartment patiently waits for an answer.
This deserves some sort of celebration, doesn’t it? Handfuls of confetti, right?
They aren’t sure how they want to celebrate. Not much things in their lives were worth celebrating before, but this apartment is so brand new, so shiny and sparkly, they feel like they have to do something.
They throw a few ideas around but none of them really stick.
Eduardo wants to blast the loudest, most obnoxious Spanish music on the speakers outdoors. He's determined to piss off their new neighbors as soon as possible and announce their presence to the little suburban lane.
Jon wants to get drunk, but obviously, he doesn't word it like that. He twirls around the meaning instead, not wanting them to outright reject his idea, saying that they should have a toast, they should toast to something!
(And frankly, the word toast sounds much more fancy than let’s drink until we can’t remember our last names. It makes them feel more like adults.)
They could even use the wine glasses Jon had bought from the pound shop, the cheap plastic ones, because those were the only cups on sale. Jon thinks it's a must, we have to toast to something, even when Eduardo reminds him for the 50th time - and there will probably be 50 more times to come - that he doesn't drink and he does not plan on starting anytime soon. Jon says okay, maybe they don't have to use alcohol, maybe they could toast with a different beverage.
Like what? Apple juice?
The sarcasm in Eduardo’s tone flies over Jon's head, as it usually does, and he runs into the kitchen to raid the fridge. It happens so quickly that they almost forget that oh yeah, they just moved in, which means the fridge is practically empty, save for a stick of butter, two cans of diet coke, and a pre-made microwavable pizza (meant to feed a family of four, apparently) that was left in the freezer.
We'll have to go grocery shopping soon. Jon says once he returns, but he says the words so full of anticipation and excitement, and he’s so thrilled about the simple prospect of them going grocery shopping together that he repeats it twice, letting the words sink into the walls and the creaky floorboards. Mark finds it endearing, and Jon does another spin before Eduardo calls him a fuckin’ idiot again, and says you’re gonna get dizzy if you keep doing that stupid shit, but Mark notices the subtle smile on his face, the one he’s been trying to hide ever since they walked in here.
What about you? How do you want to celebrate? His roommates finally ask him, because he’s supposed to be the level headed one in the group, and they’re probably going to go along with whatever he says, as long as it’s not too boring.
Well? Eduardo presses him for a response. Lightly pushes his shoulder. What do you think?
Mark wants to do so much, he doesn't even know where to begin.
He wants to go to the nearest hardware store and pick up seed packets for every single potted plant and start growing them in their house. He wants to come home late from the pub and wake up in the morning with a hangover and leave the dirty dishes in the sink. He wants Eduardo to yell at him to clean up after himself because I'm not your fucking maid as he kicks his shoes across the floor and throws his trash away when he doesn’t think he’s looking.
Mark wants to dance around with a towel wrapped around his waist after a long day of work. He wants to leave wet footprints all over the floor when he steps out of the shower. He wants to take a really, really hot bubble bath and watch the steam envelop the entire bathroom. And when he's done, he wants to write his name on the foggy glass mirror with his fingertips.
He wants to experience the most stressful morning, and this is how it will go: He's rushing to get ready for work, because he overslept, and he's bumping into Jon as he's brushing his teeth over the sink. They'll probably argue, because Mark wants to spit out his mouthwash and Jon's trying to squeeze past him to wash his hands.
He wants to watch Eduardo cooking in the kitchen late at night while he's singing along to Somos Novios and Sabor A Mi, the saddest love songs Mark has ever heard, and he will probably cry and dance along to them when he's drunk enough. And yes, Mark wants to get drunk in their apartment and listen to those same lyrics on repeat, again and again, like he's trying to lock them into memory. And maybe one day he will. He still doesn't know what the words mean, but it doesn't matter. He doesn't need to understand the language to know how it makes him feel.
Mark wants to do so much and he doesn't even know where to start, because it's finally hit him that he’s never had this much freedom in his entire life before.
...But he doesn’t say any of that, because that would probably be really hard to explain, and there’s a quiet part of him that cares about what his roommates think of him, so he keeps his lips sealed. He throws the ideas and dreams away into a little box in the back of his mind; he’ll unpack it later.
Instead, he quietly says that maybe they should get a head start on cleaning up the place.
His roommates turn to him, and they look utterly disgusted at that lackluster response so...
Guess that’s a hard no, then.
The trio ends up doing none of what they hoped to do. Not yet.
They settle for ordering Chinese food instead, sitting on the floor, watching stupid videos on Eduardo’s phone, and making fun of the cartoons they used to watch when they were kids.
It isn’t much, it's hardly a celebration, but Mark loves every minute of it.
He slips this tiny moment into the back of his memories and figures that if he ever needs something to cheer him up, and the world ends, and everything is bleak and desolate, this cheesy moment is probably what he’s going to remember the most.
And this is what he will flashback to, years later, when their house is burning up in flames, when Mark is screaming because that’s all he knows how to do, when the smell of blood in the air is suffocating, and Eduardo is cradling Jon's body like he’s the most precious flower in the world that’s been ripped away from his bloody fingertips.