art house || james & rhys
@rhysrainer
ON A DAY like today with sweat dripping down his back beneath the hot, hot late-summer sun barely relieved by the tall mountains of the Appalachian Trail, James Platt carried heavy box after heavy box inside his new home. He’d started with his guitar- wanting it to be stolen least of all his items in the event some asshole decided to take advantage of unsuspecting students unloading their things- and wound up here, with his box of necessary books. It was on his sixth and final trip in that he slammed the trunk of his sky-blue Toyota Prius and balanced the last box between two exhausted arms that he was no longer alone.
A boy with bleach blonde hair and clothes that mirrored his own, only with the slightest bit more flair, pulled into the wide driveway right beside him. James smiled brightly and nodded before he jogged into the house, setting his belongings down in the living space against the wall with the others, not sure which room he’d take just yet for he was the only one here thus far and with plenty of choices, he wanted to assure his housemates had their own preferred comfort.
Quickly, he hurried outside to greet the newcomer. His ripped-at-the-knee jeans frayed and tickled the backs of his calves and James reached down to itch them as he gestured, again, with an incline of his jaw.
“Hey! What’s up, man?” James greeted as the boy stepped out of his car. “I’m James. Jusstt got all my stuff unloaded. You uh-- housing here, I assume?” He gave a quick point over his shoulder towards the house with his thumb. “I can help you unload if you’d like.”
