should’ve gone to bed || demetrius + lysander
Oltremare still played in Demetrius’ ear when he stepped out of the cab. He paid the driver and thanked them for getting him there so quickly (under the half hour time frame Demetrius thought it would have taken, given the nearly constant city traffic and added unrest), but was now found himself standing on the sidewalk, just staring at the apartment building. The entire ride there, he couldn’t help but start wondering if he should have thought to bring something. But then he started thinking about what was even appropriate to give someone if a family member died. It bothered Demetrius that nothing came to mind.
Maybe it was just the feeling of being back here, nearly at Lysander’s doorstep that made him aware of just how cool the air was after the light drizzle the hour before. The way the air smelled fresher and less like decomposing garbage than usual, how everything shined a little as if they were glazed in silver. Demetrius took a deep breath of cold air before stepping inside, before he could start reminding himself of all the reasons why he should be nervous.
The elevator ascent felt like forever. He took the earbuds out and carefully wrapped the wires around his music player, just to give himself something to do.
He wondered how appropriate it would be if he just hugged Lysander. Hugs, at least for Demetrius, always worked to fix emotional slumps. But maybe it wasn’t the right time for that.
The elevator finally comes to a stop and Demetrius stepped off, feet immediately taking him to stand in front of Lysander’s door. He took a deep breath, knocked twice, and waited. Eventually, the door opened, and Demetrius smiled faintly. “How did I do on the time?”
Well that sounded stupid.
Half an hour, that was a while to wait. Lysander wondered if Demetrius was living in the same place. But he didn’t remember it taking that long to get here from his flat back then. Maybe that was because they had been younger. When you’re young, things are more fascinating, nothing seems to take any time at all. The days flew day, blurred into a mess of school and work and familiar faces.
In actual fact, Lysander was a young man, he just hadn’t realised it yet.
Lysander let his thoughts wander. It wasn’t something he was prone to doing, he liked having everything ordered, even what was inside his head. But it was a tipsy-topsy day of misrule. He pressed a couple of buttons on his phone and put on a recomposition of the Four Seasons, that began playing from speakers on the other side of the room. At first he had been suspicious but, god, that violin had won him over. He closed his eyes. He wanted to make Demetrius sit down and listen to all 43 minutes of it. Wanted to grab the sides of his head and let the music pour into his skull.
Part 3 of Summer was his favourite, it felt as though that thin, high violin had reached inside him and pulled something out. And the mounting thunder behind it, the danger, the anger - and suddenly it was over, low chords now. It was quiet, his thoughts returned to Demetrius. Somewhere in the back of his mind, something like common sense asked if he shouldn’t be thinking about Abel instead.
The knock on the door startled him, and he sighed, switched off the music, heaved his corporeal bones off the sofa and answered the door. It took Lysander a moment to understand Demetrius’ opening statement, and he looked at him with a small frown before he realised. “Oh,” he said, “not bad.”
“Sorry, come in.” He stepped aside. “Thank you.”
