HOME | DD

Description
The bus steered around the dark corner of St John's Lane - just widely enough for me to gently hit the rubber window edge. It had gotten to the point that I had stopped thinking whenever I travelled to his house. As if when handing over my odd amount of change to the bus driver, I had also handed over my conscious thoughts. I rang the bell.
My headphones took over me. The music was all I needed now. The sun had set only an hour ago and the sky was a beautiful shade of deep blue. The street lights illuminated the pavement as I stepped off of the single decked eighty-nine bus. Politely saying thank you to the driver, I walked down the road. The cold fiercely took hold of me as I clutched the insides of my jacket pocket.
I skipped up the endless stone steps to his flat. I had made it a point to stop at the top to catch my breath. No one likes a fat girl – let alone one that makes it so obvious by being out of breath constantly. My music continued to melodically move my body as I stepped down the gravelled paved lane. I reached the glass panelled front door of the block of flats. I slid off my head phones and reached for his flat number. As the horrible buzz rang through the building my thoughts came flooding back like a sharp electric shock. Why on earth am I here again?
A crackle from the speaker below the door buzzers made my heart jump to my throat. "Hello?"
"Hey, it's me" I replied desperately trying to cover my excitement.
"Cool" He crackled. The door clicked open and I wondered inside. I walked up the single flight of stairs as if I lived there. His flat had become such a social hang out for me that I was almost a permanent fixture in his living room and his bedroom.
The door to his flat was shut. When I first started to come over he would have it open ready for me. But, now he would leave it shut so that he could greet me properly. I tapped lightly and as if I had said open sesame, the door swung open. There he stood.
He wasn't a very tall man. Being around him made me feel just a little bit taller. Though he still towered me by an inch or two. Whenever he was in his flat he would always wear loose fitting jeans and a t shirt. Both black. He had short light-brown hair and an extremely rough beard that covered his chin from ear to ear. He never let it get too much and often shaved it. I hated when he shaved it. His face was old. He had lines by his eyes and on his cheeks. He was thirty-five and looked it.
He held out his arms and hugged me tight. He grinned widely as I smiled back meekly. "How you doin' honey?" he asked gruffly as he lead me into the living room.
"I'm ok. Very cold. And I am in desperate need of a fag" He smiled at me as he picked up his fifty gram bag of cutters choice and a packet of rizla off of the relatively clean floor. His flat was a small two bedroom. The living room reeked of cigarettes and the flat blue carpet was stained. It had the hardest couch I had ever had the unfortunate pleasure of sitting on. And nothing more than a television with free view and a PC in the corner.
He sat at his desk with the tobacco and papers and began to roll. I pulled up the small blue beanbag that always seemed preferred by guests and parked myself right next to him. He looked down at me and lightly kicked the beanbag. "What are you sittin' on that for?" he asked truly puzzled.
"Because your settee is as hard as a rock and I love beanbags. Plus it means I can see how you're spending your Friday evenings on the PC. Downloading again I presume?"
"Yeah. Just a couple of films and some Stargate episodes" He was concentrating on the first cigarette so much that he didn't even see my look of disgust when he mentioned Stargate.
"Cool. Will we be watching any of the films you're downloading?" I asked happily.
"Yeah. Why not? It's only seven o'clock" he stared at me as he handed the tightly rolled fag and a lighter. I lit up fast and took a long drag. Sighing pleasurably as I exhaled I stood up. I walked back into the small hallway where all the room doors meet and grabbed my backpack. I pulled out a bottle of Asda's cheapest red wine. I had asked a friend to get it for me as I'm underage and didn't feel like getting into a rather embarrassing argument with the cashier. I swooped back into the living room where he had managed to roll himself a cigarette and was staring mindlessly at the computer screen.
I walked into the kitchen to find a cork screw. I knew he wouldn't drink any. But, I was personally in the mood to get drunk. I called out to him. "Do you want a whiskey or something?"
"No thanks. I got something even better" He laughed a little as I turned around to see him holding up a large bag of weed. I smiled at him as I yanked the cork from the bottle and wondered back into the living room. Still puffing away at my own rollie, I took a large swig of my red wine. I slumped back into the beanbag and drooped my chin onto his knee. I stared up at him with only my eyes. He looked down at me and kissed me gently on the head. I smiled to myself.
"Eurgh! Red wine?" he exclaimed in his cool condescending tone.
"Yes!" I replied in a fake tone of offence. He looked down at me and grinned.
"Well, I guess its better you bring your own drink anyway. The only thing you'd get here is black coffee or tap water. Anyway, hows life been treating you?"

Description
The bus steered around the dark corner of St John's Lane - just widely enough for me to gently hit the rubber window edge. It had gotten to the point that I had stopped thinking whenever I travelled to his house. As if when handing over my odd amount of change to the bus driver, I had also handed over my conscious thoughts. I rang the bell.
My headphones took over me. The music was all I needed now. The sun had set only an hour ago and the sky was a beautiful shade of deep blue. The street lights illuminated the pavement as I stepped off of the single decked eighty-nine bus. Politely saying thank you to the driver, I walked down the road. The cold fiercely took hold of me as I clutched the insides of my jacket pocket.
I skipped up the endless stone steps to his flat. I had made it a point to stop at the top to catch my breath. No one likes a fat girl – let alone one that makes it so obvious by being out of breath constantly. My music continued to melodically move my body as I stepped down the gravelled paved lane. I reached the glass panelled front door of the block of flats. I slid off my head phones and reached for his flat number. As the horrible buzz rang through the building my thoughts came flooding back like a sharp electric shock. Why on earth am I here again?
A crackle from the speaker below the door buzzers made my heart jump to my throat. "Hello?"
"Hey, it's me" I replied desperately trying to cover my excitement.
"Cool" He crackled. The door clicked open and I wondered inside. I walked up the single flight of stairs as if I lived there. His flat had become such a social hang out for me that I was almost a permanent fixture in his living room and his bedroom.
The door to his flat was shut. When I first started to come over he would have it open ready for me. But, now he would leave it shut so that he could greet me properly. I tapped lightly and as if I had said open sesame, the door swung open. There he stood.
He wasn't a very tall man. Being around him made me feel just a little bit taller. Though he still towered me by an inch or two. Whenever he was in his flat he would always wear loose fitting jeans and a t shirt. Both black. He had short light-brown hair and an extremely rough beard that covered his chin from ear to ear. He never let it get too much and often shaved it. I hated when he shaved it. His face was old. He had lines by his eyes and on his cheeks. He was thirty-five and looked it.
He held out his arms and hugged me tight. He grinned widely as I smiled back meekly. "How you doin' honey?" he asked gruffly as he lead me into the living room.
"I'm ok. Very cold. And I am in desperate need of a fag" He smiled at me as he picked up his fifty gram bag of cutters choice and a packet of rizla off of the relatively clean floor. His flat was a small two bedroom. The living room reeked of cigarettes and the flat blue carpet was stained. It had the hardest couch I had ever had the unfortunate pleasure of sitting on. And nothing more than a television with free view and a PC in the corner.
He sat at his desk with the tobacco and papers and began to roll. I pulled up the small blue beanbag that always seemed preferred by guests and parked myself right next to him. He looked down at me and lightly kicked the beanbag. "What are you sittin' on that for?" he asked truly puzzled.
"Because your settee is as hard as a rock and I love beanbags. Plus it means I can see how you're spending your Friday evenings on the PC. Downloading again I presume?"
"Yeah. Just a couple of films and some Stargate episodes" He was concentrating on the first cigarette so much that he didn't even see my look of disgust when he mentioned Stargate.
"Cool. Will we be watching any of the films you're downloading?" I asked happily.
"Yeah. Why not? It's only seven o'clock" he stared at me as he handed the tightly rolled fag and a lighter. I lit up fast and took a long drag. Sighing pleasurably as I exhaled I stood up. I walked back into the small hallway where all the room doors meet and grabbed my backpack. I pulled out a bottle of Asda's cheapest red wine. I had asked a friend to get it for me as I'm underage and didn't feel like getting into a rather embarrassing argument with the cashier. I swooped back into the living room where he had managed to roll himself a cigarette and was staring mindlessly at the computer screen.
I walked into the kitchen to find a cork screw. I knew he wouldn't drink any. But, I was personally in the mood to get drunk. I called out to him. "Do you want a whiskey or something?"
"No thanks. I got something even better" He laughed a little as I turned around to see him holding up a large bag of weed. I smiled at him as I yanked the cork from the bottle and wondered back into the living room. Still puffing away at my own rollie, I took a large swig of my red wine. I slumped back into the beanbag and drooped my chin onto his knee. I stared up at him with only my eyes. He looked down at me and kissed me gently on the head. I smiled to myself.
"Eurgh! Red wine?" he exclaimed in his cool condescending tone.
"Yes!" I replied in a fake tone of offence. He looked down at me and grinned.
"Well, I guess its better you bring your own drink anyway. The only thing you'd get here is black coffee or tap water. Anyway, hows life been treating you?"