Who: Sam and Jesse When: Sat, Jan 9, 2010, late night Where: Spectrum Apts, mostly Jesse's flat Rating: PG-13 Summary: Sam can't sleep, again. Jesse is a friendly face. Warnings: Probably some swearing or something
Sam rolled his neck, trying to work out the kinks. It wasn't really working, even after the hot shower he'd taken. He'd hoped it would relax him enough to able to sleep, but he knew that wasn't the case. His mind just kept going and going, running through all the things he had to do, the bills he had to pay and groceries to buy and all that shite. And all the money he didn't have to do it with.
Also, he was lonely. He'd never been an extremely social creature, though he'd enjoyed the company of very close friends back home. People to chat with and laugh with; people who had known him since school. Here? There was no one. Even at work, he tended to keep to himself, which seemed to suit the others just fine. They were all nice enough, of course, and spoke to him about work and tasks that needed doing, or asking how his day off had been. But it was all just surface crap, and he tended to just say "Fine" or "Sure" or "I'll get right on that" and they didn't ask further.
He pulled some jeans on, followed by a sweatshirt and some socks. If he wasn't going to sleep yet, he may as well be warm. He boiled some water for cocoa and drank it, rinsing out the cup and setting it in the dishwasher. He turned on the telly, found an old Law and Order, and settled in to watch.
But five minutes in, he'd realised he'd seen it a thousand times already, knew it was the one with the woman who cried past trauma when she'd killed her former boss from Japan. But really it turned out she'd memorised what to say from books about battered women's syndrome. His attention drifted, his mind going straight back into the depressing thoughts and stressful worries.
Twenty minutes into the programme, Sam heard the telltale sounds coming from above him. There were footsteps, then music; quiet at first, and then suddenly a bit louder. Far from being annoyed, Sam smiled.
Jesse seemed like an all right bloke. He was friendly enough, certainly, and had replied to Sam's journal musings a few times. And, well. He had invited Sam up, hadn't he? No matter the hour. Sam glanced at the clock, realising ten past eleven was really much too late to go knocking on people's doors.
But apparently twenty past was okay, for he found himself climbing the stairs, the keys to his flat in his pocket, and on his way to do just that. He got to the correct door and paused for a moment before actually knocking, but then did it anyway.