novembeir:
November had been finishing up a session when his phone went off for the tenth time in eight minutes, buzzing relentlessly in his back pocket. His eyebrows had furrowed in concentration right until he finished sanitising the tattoo and giving the client instructions for after care. It was only then that he allowed himself to look at his phone. There were three missed calls from his mother, but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. What was were the seven calls from his flatmate. His nose wrinkled up in distaste before he swiped over the notification, bringing his phone to his ear as it began calling the male in question. When he heard the click of the phone being answered, he spoke immediately, “No, I don’t care if you’re fucking someone tonight. I’m not letting you have the flat to yourself. I’m cold and it’s tired,” He said with finality, figuring that was the reason for the calls. Despite living with each other, they never really spoke much, least of all on the phone.
There the crackle of static on the other end before his flatmate was interjecting, hurried and firm. “Shut the fuck up, okay? You’re at work, right?” The short male gave a nod even though nobody could see him and stepped in view of one of the mirrors in the studio, leaning closer to inspect the bags underneath his pale grey eyes. “I need you to go to Tesco and get a few things. I’ll send you a list of what I need and you get stuff for you, too, okay? Hurry up and don’t be late coming home.”
The dainty blond straightened his posture before responding, his frowning face reflected in the mirror. “It’s your turn to pay for groceries.”
“I know, I know,” He sounded annoyed in a way that made a knot of anxiety form in his stomach. “I’ll pay you back when you get home. You need anything from Boots? I’ll try and get a refill for your prescription just in case. Send me anything else you need. Be careful, okay?” Without further ado or elaboration, the phone goes dead and he was left blinking at himself in confusion for a long minute thinking about the fact the grocery was being dumped on him for the third time this month and he had just been hung up on. Cherry on top of a spectacular fucking day.
When he stepped out of the studio, he immediately wrapped up warm, closing his coat securely over the garish, large sweater that was hanging off his wiry frame and wrapping his scarf tightly around his neck. It was pissing down outside and he had been sick enough times. He stuffed his hands into his pocket and stepped into the pouring rain. The skies were were as dark as blackened lung, full of clouds that looked like the thickest smoke, and the wind blew so relentlessly it almost knocked him right off his feet. The February wind was merciless as it cupped his face in its icy hands, his cheeks heating up under the frozen caress. The walk to the nearest Tesco was about 8 minutes, but he managed it in five, slowing down only to stare at the packed store from outside. It was out of the ordinary to see a Tesco Express that was this full. Maybe there were more offers than usual. His phone buzzed twice in his pocket and he pulled it out, eyes narrowing when he saw it was the list from his flatmate and a vague message from his sister that said, ‘everything ok?’ Why was everyone being so fucking weird?
With a shrug, he replaced his phone into his pocket and stepped inside, moving to grab a cart only to find none available. His nose twitched with interest and he reached up to rub over it. OK. Not wanting to rely completely on his nonexistent arm-strength, he grabbed the last basket before stepping into the crazed fray. The next twenty-or-so minutes of panicky shopping felt like slow torture. Every time he moved to pick something off the shelves, a hand would come and grab it before he could almost as though they were afraid it was the last one. It was when he had finally managed to reach the pot noodles on the top shelf of aisle 4, his fingers finally brushing over it in a way that would allow him to grab it, only for someone else to intercept it, when he lost his shit. “Do you fucking mind? I had that first,” He huffed indignantly before turning to look at the offender in question, his hair messy from the exertion and the too-full basket by his feet. It was now too weighted for him to carry and he’d taken to kicking it around with his feet. He knew he was being petty and he could grab another one, and that technically he’d taken his hand off it in order to summon the energy to push back onto his toes and make that final grab, and that there were more pot noodles, but it had been a long day and this was too much.
Div had been getting severe weather alerts on her phone for the past couple of hours. She was used to the rain in India, and London was especially known for being a rainy city. It didn’t necessarily mean she liked it. She knew some people liked to romanticize the rain, but she wasn’t one of them. While Div didn’t mind the weather while indoors, going anywhere in harsh weather felt like a death trap, like any second, a tree would collapse on top of her. Or even the very unlikely scenario of being struck by lightning. She knew it was unlikely, but it didn’t stop her from thinking about it every time she stepped outside.
She had been at work when the rain began. It started with thundering that only seemed to grow louder with each clap. Div silently hoped her manager would let her leave early since the shop hadn’t been that busy anyway, but nope, she ended up staying until the end of her shift. By then, it was rather abysmal outside like it was cyclone weather, not that she ever experienced cyclone weather. She had witnessed enough of it through the news in other parts of India, but it never dawned on her that cyclones could happen all around the world. At least she never let herself think about that. She supposed they did call them ‘hurricanes’ in the West and also the idea of any type of tropical storm wasn’t much of an issue when she moved to London. Though, she didn’t think Brighton was excluded from the possibility. Had Brighton ever had a hurricane?
When Div finally left work, she had been absolutely ready to head back to the flat and snuggle up in her makeshift bed on Betta’s floor, but then her stomach rumbled much like it was ready to start its own storm. And she realized it had been a while since she bought groceries. While Div wasn’t too picky of an eater, she was pretty certain nothing in the fridge or pantry would suit to make a full meal. So with the hood of her jacket on and her hands in her pockets, Div rushed to the nearest store she knew of to pick up a few things. The store happened to be Tesco, a name she had become pretty familiar with since moving to the U.K.
Busy was an understatement to describe the place. There were at least multiple people in each of the aisles as she walked through, picking up items she thought she could use. She definitely had a loaf of bread in her basket as well as a variety of canned soups. Against her better judgment, she even grabbed a couple packages of biscuits. She rarely had cravings for sweets, but she couldn’t deny them being comforting when stressed. And while she’d like to admit she was braver, the weather was starting to stress her out. In one of the aisles, she reached for a container of pot noodles that happened to be the same one someone else had reached for. Div didn’t think much of it since there were still plenty of containers and flavors left until the boy called her out on it.
Startled, Div looked back at him and then back down at the container she just grabbed. “Oh, sorry,” she apologized, handing him the pot noodles. She wasn’t about to make any enemies in a Tesco. Maybe the weather was just getting to other people too.
