|noah exists in a world that's (loud) wrote in repose,|
@ 2019-03-17 07:22:00
|Entry tags:||*log, aleksi ackerman, noah nicodemo|
Two double cheeseburgers (one with extra pickles), two sides of fries, and two chocolate milkshakes were all in hand—barely—as Noah worked to get out of the Jeep without spilling anything. It wasn't that he was dressed nice, dude; he wasn't. His nice clothes—of which there were few—were all just-washed upstairs, draped haphazardly over a chair back. So, it wasn't that he was worried about himself. Noah didn't want to waste the food, dude. Aleksi sounded like a dude who could put away a burger and fries no problem, and Noah was definitely a dude who could put away a burger and fries no problem. There wasn't much in the apartment besides the requisite ramen, pizza rolls, and a smoothie mix, so this was it. Noah cradled the grease-stained paper bag to his chest like the treasure it was, and held the bottom of the two shakes in one broad palm, long fingers trying to keep them upright, as he closed the door to the Jeep with his ass.
With his headphones in a tangle, one lost in the black of his hood, uselessly blaring Sober by Childish Gambino, Noah jimmied the lock to the downstairs door. Even with the impending threat of spillage, dude, it was habit to take the stairs two at a time, and, you'll be glad to know he made it just fine. Once he was actually inside his place, he set everything on the lone TV tray that he'd stolen from his mom's. He tore his headphones from around his neck and tossed his phone on his partially-made bed. Okay. Right. What did he need to do? Spinning on one sneaker, he looked around. He hadn't had anyone over, man, except Holly. He was so used to keeping anyone and everyone out of his space, it was, like, habit at this point. But, he wasn't living with his mom anymore, so… he should get used to this, right?
He fetched up the two button-up shirts that were actually nice that he had, along with the three pairs of slacks, and he put them on the bed too. Then, he remembered shoes. Heading back toward the door, he went to root around in the closets. He'd left the front door ajar, so Aleksi could roll in when he rolled in, man. Not that Noah wouldn't know he was coming. He figured he'd be able to tell by the thoughts he might pick up that had to do with Dietre and/or expensive Italian cuisine.