the entire evening dragged on for what felt like hours. now that he had a plan, a destination, and a general timeframe – things were unfairly sluggish. he’d avoided socializing save for some short greetings with chatty business partners, and one particularly handsy older woman. worse still was that he’d see monroe on occasion – the figure passing by like a carrot tied to a string. after the niceties and impatient questioning about cutting the night short (quoting a lengthy exhaustion that he hoped wouldn’t make his mother doubly protective) the event drew to a close. karim had been rushed to the car, unable to provide monroe a second promise to their meeting, but figured – hoped – the other would wait up for him anyway.
by the time he arrived home, it was well past midnight. his mother lingered in his apartment, gentle probing followed by another lecture of professionalism, each topic annoying him further. karim nodded, smiled where he was meant to, and after relentless back and forth, ushered her out the door. though karim lived alone, the staff and lobbymen that paraded the front of his apartment were all connected to his mother – every move he made, she knew, every visitor he had, she’d hear. he slipped on something casual, joggers and a t-shirt with a grey coat overtop before heading to the lobby. he expressed his discomfort of an impending cold – that he didn’t want to bother his mother and would end up visiting a friend. as karim wasn’t dressed to the nines like he usually was, they had no reason to think he’d be tending to a romantic night in. (whether or not his mother would believe that the next day, he wasn’t sure.) he thanked them profusely.
karim took a taxi in his desperation. he kept the hood of his coat up, offering monroe’s neighbour’s address as precaution. his thumbs hovered over the screen of his phone, considering and then reconsidering to text the other male of his coming. if anything, he figured monroe would be pleased by the surprising fulfillment of the promise.
per habit, karim tipped handsomely in hopes for privacy, and walked across the road – eyes flickering over to the light in the window. relief flooded his chest before it was quickly followed by excitement and the anticipation of embracing the other male without glancing over his shoulder. karim navigated his way to the main entrance, brushed his hood back because – lazy as he was dressed – he still wanted to look presentable. desirable. he rapped on the door.
truth be told, he had long since given up on the idea that his boyfriend ( was that what they were now? ) was going to show up. perhaps it was cynicism sinking its teeth in too easily, or maybe it was something else entirely, maybe just the acceptance that he would be second best to status and responsibility. it all seemed tragic, sad in a way that would have filled the rooms of any good heartbreak hotel, but monroe never was quite that one dimensional. he took love, affection, where he could get it, probably because they had been robbed of so much of it while growing up.
it was the tug of his memory, walking back down the lane barefoot, over broken glass, that incited the need to paint tonight. the deep bruises of the painting karim had purchased seem to inspire him in a way that he couldn’t quite pinpoint, and it wasn’t the normal flavor of passion that he suffered. instead, it was the need to heal through creativity, which probably explained the open bottle of whiskey that sat on the table, tainted with the remnants of paint and passion.
idly, fingers moved up to allow nails to drag against chest, spreading blue paint in their wake, until he was distracted by the sound of the door. taking a moment, he moved across the apartment, almost lazily, not sure who was at said door - but not expecting it to be ( h i m ). it was pulled open to the rise of brows, surprise hidden with amusement and a warm chuckle. “well look at that, you made it.”
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