EMMA: Cold.

I was never one for hot showers. I knew the reason behind the invention of a cold shower, but I choose to take them anyway. Especially now, sitting on the floor of the tub, with my arms wrapped around my knees I breathed loudly, hearing it echo throughout the flat. It was like this at home, although I knew that behind the echo were reasons. Reasons why I was left alone while other parents took this kids to movies or got them pony rides for birthday parties. Fuck I don't know, none of this ever applied to me. But as the water eventually started turning my pale skin pink, I heard the door shut and I turned off the shower. I stood in the shower, letting the water leave my hair and splatter around my feet. My bruised body did not appease me, but I liked my knobby knees and how they stuck out. I was cold. Someone knocked on the door. Him. Why did I even think someone?

"Emma, fuck, hurry out. There's a problem. We're in shit. We are actually standing in shit." His voice was pained as I took as long as possible to dry myself off, my hair hitting my back with cold delight. He banged on the door harder. "Come on Emma, I have to be back at work in like half an hour."

"Where's the fire?" I asked him sleepily. The shower had taken all of my energy away instead of filling me with it. "If it's about a job, I'll go look for one tomorrow. I'm so tired." My mouth let out a yawn as I struggled to find some suitable clothes amongst all the wrinkled ones in my bag. "Does this place have an iron?"

"Emma, irons aren't important right now. Stupid ass-face Kurt found out about you staying here," he still found time to eye me wrapped in my towel and I smirked at this. I turned to look at him and I gulped loudly. The images of returning back home after leaving so abruptly started stamping my mind.

"Oh," I muttered quietly. "Great."

"Look, we'll find a way. You don’t have to go back. I mean fuck, there’s an answer. I just…don’t get too comfortable ok? I don’t know when he’s coming back, and fuck Kurt could be lying his ass off…” he trailed off and stuffed his hands in his pockets, I handed him one of my mother’s smokes from the counter. He grinned a thank you, but didn’t light it. The tips of his fingers were gray, like he had been touching the wick of a candle, and the black stained the white.

"I wish you didn't have to go," I heard myself say and he instantly turned back to look at me. He smiled one-sidedly and I sighed deeply, feeling a drop of water I hadn't caught run down the backside of my calf like a tear. "Just stay."

I approached him and while holding the knot of the towel that I had tied in the front, I hugged him with my other arm, and he pulled his arms around my waist, apparently not caring that I was still somewhat wet and humid. I pulled away and pushed his hair behind his ear and smiled.

"You know, I think my Mum would understand the situation. Or maybe my brother would. Like, if I just asked him. Yeah, yeah I think I'm going to call him in Spain and get this all sorted out and Kurt can fuck a cow for all I care," he smirked at himself and I smiled and he pulled his hands away from my waist and walked towards the phone hooked on the wall. He picked it up and dialed by memory. I guess he was close to his brother, after all.

I walked over to my suitcase, choosing some leggings and a flowered dress and gathered my underclothes and made my way back into the bathroom as I heard Greg mutter. I sincerely hoped everything would work out and I really wanted him to like my dress, even if it didn't match the leggings. I had on my yellow, daisy underwear and was clasping my bra when Greg knocked and I said come in and he looked at me with that face. I put my arms down and he averted his eyes, leaning against the frame of the door.

"So I left a message for him and he should get back to us soon. Look I need to get back to work but I'll talk to you later okay?" he said quickly, unfolding his arms. He finally made eye contact with me and I had my dress in my hands and walked over and embraced his waist and his arms went over my almost-bare back and I leaned my head on his chest.

"Okay," I said, pulling away. "So I wanted to thank you for like...not pressuring me. You know?" His eyes drew to mine and I looked up and he looked down and he nodded his head and his lips when to my cheek, placing a comfortable, soft kiss on it.

"I'll be back."

GREGORY: Headache.

I blew on my fingers and rubbed them on my temples as I sat down in the car, the force of my headache and I finally turned the key in the engine. Emma’s body swayed behind my closed eyelids as I squeezed my eyes shut, opened them and tried again. Half naked was not something I could deal with at the moment. I wanted her. I wanted her that way, and it was bloody obvious, as I hated her briefly for toying with me like that. But it was out the window.

Pressure would just make it blow up in my face, and that’s why I was in the car, coat over my lap as I tried to take deep breaths, breathing in through my nose and out of my mouth. The car vibrated underneath me and I put the car in gear and sped away. Kurt should have been home by now, but for all I knew he and his buddies were fucking over old ladies for money.

My hands were tight on the steering wheel as I contemplated my situation. It was ‘our’ situation. Emma’s and mine because I had involved myself without thinking twice because sooner or later I was going to fall in love with her and I wasn’t going to fuck around in the meanwhile. In the meanwhile I had to beat up my little brother and find Emma and myself a new job. I was not going to be able to keep Jane away much longer. Or was it the other way around?

I shook my head vehemently, my hair rearranging itself and turned the corner onto my street. As soon as the wheels squealed to a stop I burst out of the car and headed inside. My blood was boiling and my nails were scraping some of my skin off the palms of my hands. “No good…son of a bitch…” I grunted to myself as I climbed the stairs and kicked in Kurt’s door.

Before he could even register that I was on a bloodthirsty hunt for his ass, I punched him in the face. He threw a wimpy jab my way but I had older brothers, I wasn’t going to fuck around with him. “YOU BASTARD!” I shouted, with my hands around his neck, shoving his face into his pillow. His legs thrashed about as I sat on his back, my strong hands bashing the shit out of him until I finally let him up for air, knowing that a dead brother on my conscious wouldn’t help matters.

“Wanker,” he spat at me, rolling his neck to the side with careless ease. “I’m just giving you a heads up. I don’t think that was completely…” I smacked the side of his head with all the force I could muster and he toppled off his bed. I was breathing heavily and seeing him try to pick himself up pathetically made me feel better about myself.

"And if I believed that, I’d be as sad as you are mate,” I said, reaching into my back jean pockets for a smoke. I lit it, kneeling on his bed as he struggled to catch his breath. I was showing him who had the upper hand and he didn’t like it one bit, but he was putting Emma’s life in my hands so I was going to pummel him ‘til the cows came home, or however that shit goes.

"Ugh whatever, asshole, do what you want with that tart of yours," was what he said and the anger seeped my pores quickly. I stood up and kicked him once in the gut as he groaned.

"Seriously, mate? Don't fucking try me."

EMMA: Wallpaper.

Before Gregory, there was this guy. His name was Randall, and he goes to my school and he interned at my father's wallpaper company. At first he treated me like a child, like the most annoying thing that ever existed. But after the time he told me he started interning because of me, we were this thing. Not official, not unofficial. Just a weird odd thing. Kind of like Greg. I don't know how to explain him. I knew I instantly clicked with him when I met him but it was one of those situations where people can't give you what you need, they just don't go the extra mile for you. There was this one thing that he did, though, he'd cut out random wallpaper cutouts with little symbols or images and make me wallpaper collages while he was bored at work. He'd come pick me up and give them to me like it wasn't a big deal at all and I really liked that. We didn't work out because when you hear too many things about yourself that you don't even know, that gets a little stressful. Especially when you're this weird official-unofficial item. I see him every so often but he has a Regina now and I a Gregory. But lately I wonder what it would've been like to sleep with him for my first time other than Greg and if it would have been better. I guess it's the wallpaper collages.

The front tire of my bike hits a curb and I have the weirdest sensation as I fall. I feel gravel under my cheek, and the bike comes crashing down on top of me. It’s nice to just lay there as I hear the cars driving past, and the wheels spinning. A pair of shoes stops in front of me but I can’t bring myself to look up. Eventually they make a new path around me and I kick the bike away from my body. Wiping my hands on my thighs I leave my dignity on the side of the road and pedal around the corner. I didn’t mean to end up here but that’s usually how I get to most places. I park the bike into one of the bike racks and leave it there as I pull a pack of smokes from my back pocket. My lighter’s at home. A haze of laundry detergent hangs in front of the store and I sigh heavily and flop to the ground, my legs out in front of me.

Some woman comes out of the Laundromat and stumbles over my feet. I try to look up but my head’s not cooperating. She kicks my feet more than necessary, and I kick her back. “Fucking kids.” I laugh out loud, just to spite and get to my feet and head inside.

Greg’s in the back room so I sit on one of the benches facing the window, my chin on my chest. I get lost in the swirl of whites, the gentle lull of the machines. I have some kind of anxiety that I can't get rid of. I felt it on the ground and it's still occupying my mind. Pulling my coat tighter around me, I follow the circle of clothes until my eyes cross. I know Greg said he'd come back to the apartment, but I guess I thought I'd surprise him, like real couples do.

He finally comes out carrying a crate of detergents and anti-wrinkle solutions. I smile and he smiles, giving me the "one minute" gesture with his left hand. He puts the crate down on a nearby counter and unloads its contents. I watch him with patience. He lines them up in rows and once he's done, takes the crate back to the backroom. After a few minutes he comes out with his jacket in his hand and his apron is gone.

I stand up and grab his hand as we leave silently.

Back in the car I ask him simply, what are we going to do?

Eyes vacant, voice steady he says, we are going home.

GREGORY: Kettle.

She puts the kettle on, the one with the rusting handle that's been passed on in my family as a classic "housewarming gift" for what looks like centuries. More like a couple of years, but it looks like centuries. I lean back on my brother's thrift-shopped futon as she asks if I want early grey and I sigh a simple sure. Her hands are shy as she moves, almost dances, around the kitchen, figuring out what is where, what goes where. That first time we came here, we came for one reason and one reason only and there hadn't been enough time (not that it seemed necessary, anyway) to give her the grand tour of the diminutive flat. We came in, I ruffled my hair a bit, she pulled off her skirt, we had sex, and she creeped away in the early of the morning. Somehow tea makes all the difference.

"Here you go," she comes to me with a smile as she transfers the tea mug to me, her hands cold, contrasting with the deadly heat of the mug. I nod a thanks and she sits next to me on the futon, pulling her legs up to her chest and hugging them. She leans her head on her knees as she looks over at me and she watches me drink slowly.

I turn to her with a laugh.

"What?" I ask her and find myself playful all of a sudden. "Creeper."

She punches me softly and I put the mug down on the floor. I look at her and she sits normally now, her back far on the futon. Before I know it I'm on top of her on all fours after some playful wrestling. Standing above her I know that from here we're either going to go sexual or not. She gives me that face where she wants me to decide but suddenly makes the decision for me as she starts tickling me down my side; my weakness. I'm trying to retaliate but she has me all up in a knot yelling and whooping like a little kid, crying out for her to stop but she won't and I don't really want her to.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop if you get off of me," she laughs loudly and holds her hand out between us.

"Okay," I look down at her and for a second we're all quiet and just looking at each other. She reads my mind and kisses me softly on the lips. Her lips graze mine just enough to transfer her humidity to me. Like saying, let's stay here, on this level, that's good, but not more.

"We're good if we stay here, right?" she says, reading my mind again as I make my way off of her. I chuckle a little.

"Perfect," I pick up my mug, digging my mouth onto the ceramic of it, thinking this is the best earl grey I've ever had.