_In this world

[mitchell]

Tagged: For Madeline Page
___________________________


Sputtered patterns of a misted rain decorated the smooth glass surface of the office room window, scattered bulbs of crystal drops all nestled unmoving in their place. The clouds had come, lingered there above the city but only teased it with a spit of water and few muffled rolls of thunder. Mitch, however, had barley noticed his attention abducted by the laptop at his front and the small box on his screen that shifted by itself as small written messages appeared one by one between its contours. Indeed he’d spent the good last hour chatting away with an old and missed companion, she of who managed to sweep a steady smile over a usually sterile expression. He would never openly admit that he desired her company every moment that it had danced across his mind; but in honesty he did. May it have been the almost reckless mannerisms of their brief experience together that influenced him to covet for it, or maybe simply the need for company- who knew. In any case before too long he was already slumping back from a darkening screen, pulling a quick hand through fairly tousled hair. He arched back, stretched, then pushed up from his chair and moved off into a now bleakly dark room; sort of ashen in effect of the semi-storm outside.

His eyes swept the space in absent check, before he slid out pulling closed the door behind him. A soft click was the only sound left in the whole apartment, a strange quiet that he’d never noticed before seemed almost loud in noises absence. He stared, a pithy moment of hesitance, into the rest of the house; all seemingly more empty and less inviting than usual. The edge of his mouth twitched, significant to the ventures of his mind. Though he shared the company of a housemate there were moments, especially in their absence, that he felt crowded in all this vacant space. They rarely shared too long a conversation with one another, his fault in being an exceedingly quiet individual, but no less the passive conscious of anothers’ company often provided him with certain comfort.
He breathed, so wedged in the bizarre emptiness he’d forgotten a moment to exhale. In the strain of the silence there remained the smaller often overheard noises; the minor hum of the kitchen in its constant workings, the muffled activity of the deeper city. In stillness ears strained to realize sound or otherwise conducted noise of their own; a subtle ringing or distant pulse. Nonetheless these were meager observations he deliberated in definitive boredom which briefly distracted him while he ventured from office to room, then after while he crossed to his bed.

Kicking out of sweats and into jeans he took considerable time to make himself decent, despite the casualty of the activities to follow. Mitch wasn’t fond of looking too overly lazy especially in his attire, and especially in front of women. However, he was defiantly keeping it simple; a white tee with the common torn and tattered denim. His recent shower had him smelling just as nice, a fresh scent that blended with suggestion of a softer cologne, and with one quick run of fingers through well conditioned hair he was set; slipping into his coat followed by his shoes. Keys in hand, he evacuated the apartment and stepped into the street. It was significantly cooler now but Mitch hadn’t lingered in it for long enough to pay much notice, already in his car by the next few minutes. The streets were visibly sleek, glittered in their moist surfaces, and purely black as if freshly cleaned of their dirtier aspect. This half of San seemed asleep and undisturbed by he, and the few other cars that calmly passed through.

The radio only muttered a brief talk show between song-plays, the rest of the car otherwise entirely silent save for Mitch’s sound and rhythmic breathing. He was aware and yet very much distracted, considering and defining certain thoughts those of which idly drifted to Maddie. It’d been quite the while since they’d last talked, let alone seen each other, and so he blamed it on completely humanistic mind flow to be, though discreetly, edgy. He could only hope that there was undying conversation in the future for them both because it was, as mentioned, silence that he found most uneasing.
He finally pulled unto a familiar street, a good twenty minute drive, and then slunk into an open space between two other cars opposite end of her apartment building. It was a wonder he remembered even where to go...even if it’d only been only a month and a half he had a knack for ending up in a whole ‘nother country.

Removing the keys from the ignition and his body from the car he stepped back out into the darker ambiance of the later night, stuffing hands into pockets before making the short journey across the street and up into the building. If he could recall it was on the third floor…three thrity eight..or seven…yea seven was right. He climbed the stairs, sort of purposely slow, before finally arriving to his destination, wandering absently down the hall counting rooms as he went. He paused then when he came upon her door, no hesitance as he knocked, glancing half diverted attention toward a stranger fumbling at the lock of their door some few feet down the hall.

[maddie]

A tiny, half formed smile had been lifting the corners of Madeline’s lips for quarter of an hour before her face started aching with the subconscious expression. Her room was quiet, the entire apartment vacant, save for the impish figure of a girl sitting at a second hand desk near the French window of her room. Fingers beat rhythmically on the black plastic keys of her laptop as her gaze, unfocused, watched as line after line of easy conversation zipped across the otherwise still screen. She hadn’t noticed the storm building until the first roll of thunder met her ears and jerked her back into the world of the lonely, the hungry and, in this case, the restless. Her dark brown eyes narrowed as she peered through the rain-mottled glass of the windows and out into the darkness beyond. When had night fallen? She couldn’t remember it getting dark, and now as she glanced around her room and realised she could barely make out the distinction between the dark blue of her walls and the shadows of the night, it came as a surprise. Blinking, she sat upright in her chair again and tapped out an invitation that she wasn’t sure she wanted to risk the rejection.

Mitchell Deans and Madeline Page were one of those stories you read about in magazines or TV talk shows where you never know if its going to end in smiles or tears. Maddie met Mitch some time about two - or was it three - years ago. She can’t remember where, she did well to remember what country it was in, but she had found him. Though, it was more accurate to say that he found her. She had been working in a tiny café in Calais on one of the quietest evenings she had ever experienced. With her legs propped up on the arm of a chair and her backside on it’s partner she was passing the storm-tainted eve with a book that the café owner had left behind. It was in French which meant Maddie was taking forever and a day to get through it, but it wasn’t enough of a distraction to hold her attention when the café door opened. He walked in, and Madeline stared. It wasn’t that he was handsome - though to say he wasn’t would be a lie - but the way the whole room seemed to brighten a touch with his presence. She had no idea what that feeling meant and to this day she still doesn’t, but Mitchell Deans had an effect on Madeline that even she couldn’t have anticipated. It took her several moments to remember it was she who had to serve him, which she did of course, and that was the very beginning or their relationship.

The smile that had barely manifested on her rose coloured lips turned to full bloom as Mitch accepted her invitation and promptly logged out of his instant messenger. Maddie wasn’t too far behind, clicking her way to shutdown with practised ease. The lid of the laptop closed with a click and that, she hoped, was the hard part over with. Already her breathing was quickening with the promise of seeing him. It was ridiculous and silly, and completely uncontrollable.

It was then that the panic started to set in.

Her brilliantly eager eyes darted around her room trying to find the black and silver device that was the house phone. She had it earlier when she had spent over an hour of her precious work time talking to her second Mitch, Mitch Daniels. He had asked her out to lunch and when she refused he proceeded to talk her ear of for the hour anyway, thus proving his point that she should have just said yes in the first place. When she hung up she had tossed the phone over her shoulder before heading for the bathroom, which meant, by process of simple logic, the phone had landed…

“Crap,” came the muttered sigh as she forced herself from her chair and dove straight for a huge hamper of clean clothes fresh from the dryer that morning. The phone had sunk between the folds of a silk skirt so it was her agile fingers that found it before her sight did, and she had pounded out the number of the local pizza parlour in the space of a breath. Then, just as quickly, she hung up and dialled the number for the Indian take-away a few streets over. Five minutes, and a brief explanation of how it didn’t matter exactly what the day’s special was, later, she had order for two and was cast back into dark silence again. She could hear her own heart beating timelessly against the inside of her ribs as if to drown out the drumming of the rain on the window panes. It was insane how after so long of knowing him and knowing that he was her best friend he could still have her tugging her hair in idle stress relief.

“Crap,” filled the silence again as her dark brown orbs close to fell out of their sockets. Her room was, without exaggeration, the messiest she had ever seen it. Granted, it wasn’t dirty, but the mountain of clean clothes and the mess of her unmade bed were enough to make it look like the wake of a storm. Did she have time to clean? A glance at the LED numbers of her alarm clock told her she didn’t, but she had little in the way of choice. Slamming her fist against the light switch and squinting against the suddenly blinding luminescence of the summary yellow rug on her floor, she sat down on it and got to work. Most important was the discretion of her underwear, which was sorted in a minute with the rough shoving of every last piece into her top drawer. The rest she at least took the time to fold and stack neatly on a nearby chair. She didn’t have the chance to put those away though, because as she folded the last pair of jeans a confident knock sounded through the dead apartment and had her freezing in place.

Already?

It wasn’t fear or panic that had her motionless for several seconds before she moved, but excitement. Tossing the jeans on top of the stack she gave an unwarranted squeal of excitement and forced herself to her feet. She turned on the hallway lamp as she passed it to get to the door, casting the entrance to the two bed roomed apartment into a warm, orangey glow. She didn’t pause to check who was there before sliding open the latch and pulling back the heavy wooden door.

Pure elation washed over her at the site of her friend and she threw herself at him without much of a warning bar experience. She wrapped her arms tight around his neck as she pulled him close for a hug, the slightly damp layer of rain on his coat disregarded against the bare skin of her arms. Mr. Bouclé, the suspecting neighbour, went ignored as he paused to watch and raise an eyebrow, obviously caught off guard by Madeline’s excited shriek.

“I missed you,” she all but squeaked into her poor friend’s ear, before she realised the presence of her neighbour and whispered, “Monsieur Boucle hasn’t really experienced many public displays of affection, bless him.”

[mitchell]

It seemed, just then, that as he’d closed his eyes, lowered his head, and claimed himself a moment to breathe there were no moments between the unlatching noise of her door and the frantic embrace to follow. At once he became stiff, tense and caught terribly off guard, unmoving so very briefly as his mind registered all he had managed to miss. When he did, however, realize who it were clinging so tightly to him, muttering a shared sentiment to a time apart, his arms had found her as well; answering with the same fondness as her own if not a hint more, latched around the low of her back to wield her closer. So close such that there were no space between bodies if for that concise instant. It was not of intimate intention, but merely some solid relief in having her within grasp; at least in a physical aspect.

He replied in a lower murmur, a simple but sincere “I missed you too.” Absently nuzzling in her hair, indulging in that clean, florid scent - always lovely.
“Monsieur Boucle hasn’t really experienced many public displays of affection, bless him.”
He lifted his head to peer over her own, catching a second glimpse of his earlier company stranger, having taken a moment to ogle at the reunion. “Well I wouldn’t to overwhelm him then, maybe we should take this inside.” Mitch grinned, distinctively larger than he had been since realizing it had been she who jumped him, a pull at the corner of his mouth that made his smile just slightly crooked, nonetheless charming. When their embrace had broken, and she led him in, natural curiosity would have his attention partially distracted by passive glances through what parts of her space he could see. No judgment tolled in his mind during such motion, just natural curio. Despite having been here before he still felt slightly stranger. He stripped himself of his coat and shoes, putting both aside where, with said examination, he had discovered were their proper places.

He took his beautiful time doing so.
It was a strange fact that the heart in his chest seemed to no longer steadily beat, but instead loosely race. Even the often impossible evenness of his artists’ hands seemed to instead very quietly shake. Nerves condemned him to both unease and thrill, a strange mixture that he had no mind to name. Mitch had not predicted such a response to finally seeing her, and now having experienced it he struggled for meaning.

“So,” he strayed back to the front door, having pushed it closed earlier during his entrance, “the place looks good.”
He might have frowned at the very loss-of-anything-else to say comment, but doing so would only result in an apparent foolishness; making just that more obvious he was fumbling with himself. Nevertheless his voice was one hell of a façade, possible credit to his undying accent; remaining steady despite the anxious truth. “You look good to.” His grin had long ago descended to an idle smile, very soft in easy compliment to the placid gaze in which he unnervingly watched her. His hand reached, not too far as their distance had not much grown within the time span between hallway and apartment room, fingers lacing solicitously through the newly hued strands of her hair; it was longer too. A brow rose, in inquisitiveness against complaint stating without voice that he had noticed the dramatic change. She, of course, still looked stunning no matter blond or brown haired, but he silently inquired as to why, all the while also redeeming himself in showing his attentiveness to her.
The fingers that slid through the length of strands were fortunately steady.
____
sorry it was short, not alot I could do without taking Maddie over

[maddie]

Don’t worry, its fine! Quality > Quantity. XD

---

Perhaps she clung to him a little too long, or perhaps she hugged him a little too tight, but neither of these things crossed her mind as he wrapped his arms around her and held her just as solidly. She had no qualms over being that close to him - she never did, ever, over the years. It was something that the fleeting boyfriends she had had over the years had to get used to else it forced them away. But Madeline wasn’t going to change how she was around Mitch, because she knew, subconsciously, that the safest place to be was in her best friend’s arms. He was the only person, save a select few family members, that she ever truly got close to, that she really let past all her barriers. Sure she had friends that came close to that, and boyfriends that almost managed it too, but Mitch was ’it’ as far as she was concerned. He was the only person whose friendship with her had never faltered because of her travelling and her unquenchable thirst for adventure. Of course, distance had had its toll, and had demolished (by choice, not by force though) the deeply passionate and soulful relationship they had had some years before now, but it never dampened their rock solid friendship. She adored greeting him as much every day as once ever few months. He was, with or without the physicality, her soul mate.

It was that deeply embedded knowledge that had no shame or embarrassment in her when it came to him, and when he finally let go of her and she was able to glance a second time at the wide-eyed Monsieur Boucle she only afforded the middle-aged man a grin. Promptly he snapped his gaping mouth shut and went back to struggling with his key hole and naturally, Maddie laughed. Poor Boucle.

She did have more interesting matters on her mind than her estranged neighbour though, and without another glance at the hallway behind her, she turned and pushed open the door to the apartment. She held it open for Mitch. In doing so she held up one hand to point the direction to the coat closet, but found he wasn’t paying her any attention at all, but had found the cupboard regardless. She had forgotten for a brief moment that Mitch had been here before. It was so long ago that so much had changed, and that was the last time she had laid eyes on his handsome face. It was the first week, or the second, that she had moved into the flat that Mitch had come to visit her. Back then things were very different to how they turned out to be, and she wondered idly how many of her stories she had told him over the phone of the internet. Darius, the latest boyfriend , wasn’t so much of a boyfriend now, and wasn’t even a friend either. Things had started amazingly in that relationship, but after a few weeks they realised that they were too dissimilar for it to work, and too old for a playground romance. It wasn’t long after that that Valentine’s Day came round and with it Madeline’s own personal hell. It had taken her so long to recover the torture, terror and humiliation that she had lost her job (perhaps for the better) with Darius’ music store. The only way she had overcome it was to write it down, and from that she realised, with a black sort of satisfaction, that she could sell her story and find the light in the darkness. After that she carried on writing and selling her words to pay her way in Marseille. Had she told Mitchell all of this? Or any of it? She couldn’t remember.

”The place looks good.”

She blinked, startled not by his voice but by the realisation that she had completely and unexpectedly zoned out. A smile reached her eyes as he paid the same compliment to her and she lifted her darkened gaze to meet his. Those pale eyes, so unique and vividly remembered, and that crooked smile, perfect in all its asymmetry, were a worthy distraction. So much so that the first she realised of the stark physical changes in herself were new to him was the feel of his curious fingers twisting and tugging gently in her hair.

“Oh,” she muttered, almost inaudible for the fact that her full lips shaped the words exaggeratedly. She lifted her own hand and idly let her fingers slip through the strands in the wake of his. “Yeah,” she paused, almost sheepish in her ways, before continuing. “Things were changing around me so fast, without me really wanting them to, so I thought I’d change something that I actually had control over.” It was a logical explanation, as far as she was concerned, and she knew Mitch would understand. “First time it’s been brown since I was fourteen. I looked too much like my sister with it dark.” Her shrug, though small, was significant enough to remind her that in her chatter her fingers had come to rest neatly between his. Bluffing was something Madeline was expert at, so she pulled his hand gently from her tresses and let go as though that had been her unobvious intention the whole time.

“Go sit down,” she offered, actually managing to point this time towards the living room, only lit by the bright moon outside and the wedge of light from her bedroom door. Her charade, to brush off the fact that the brief contact with his skin had left her heart all but arrested and her fingertips tingling, both hands went to her left ear to remove the large copper coloured earrings that had, conveniently, suddenly become a nuisance. She smiled expectantly up at him before turning her back to face the mirror in the by the front door.

“The light switch is on the corner. I ordered some food and I’ll get you a drink in a minute.”

[mitchell]

He listened; the droning stillness that lay short between them allowing him time to note of the muffled noise that were her inanimately living apartment. The refrigerator hummed, a soft constant tone that in depth otherwise mingled with the white of silence. The streets moved, their occupants still very much thriving as the city, any city, really, never slept. Just like him, he supposed. He didn’t much sleep either.
His eyes shifted from hers to the scenery behind her, just in beat with the displacement of his hand as she pushed it from her hair. She spoke of the meaning behind that burned mahogany color, an insightful explanation that he, as always, found impressive. She was much different than any women he’d come to know, that perfected tangle of brains and beauty that he very much never stopped adoring. In fact…Mitch had honestly never abandoned any of that lover’s fondness for her, and acceptingly knew that the chances of doing so were wire thin. Though the separation between them was a mutual for-the-best decision, he had done so with a tenderness to think of his loss. If he had the author inspiration to write a day-in-the-life story, he might reveal to both himself and the rest of the world that he found a particular undying passion for Madeline Page. He would never say he was in love with her still, for in confessing as so might result in a more destructive finale than therapeutic one, but he would, in its undeniable presence, say that his attraction to her was one to have never fallen lifeless. Like for love; a fair and safe substitute maybe for the sake of his heart.

In any case their friendship had outlasted the troubles of an often awkward living in the after. They were practically inseparable when allowed time with one another; Mitch revealing in himself a hidden guardian and spectacular medium in which was product of the closeness they shared. As she knew, he would risk his very life for the ultimate sake of her own, drop even the most imperative of things on a dime if she called for him. That was a bond he too, did not disperse lightly, in fact, she was the only person he could name that meant more than that much to him; she would withhold that place singularly for it was a space he felt not a solitary ‘nother person could ever claim part of. Trust was a rare thing that he delivered, however it saved time, it saved pain, and ultimately saved the drama. He could no more deal with emotional games in putting his heart into people than he could deal with the most juvenile situations. And like those situations, he often left to let die. No mistake, Mitchell was a loving stranger, giving if even to those he knew would fritter his contributions into something unnecessary; but that never resulted in his conviction.

Redirecting eyes to her the moment her hand came up guiding, as she spoke, his eyes to the meaning of her order he shifted his feet, sort of tensing as he rolled forward; just to move having been standing strange and still. When she finished, turning away to pluck her earrings free, he moved away without hint of mind or sound to enter the living space. Though dark he managed to find the switch, on his venture there renewing curiosity in the peeking swing of her bedroom door. Of course he did not simply stroll right over to take a look, but some natural inquisitiveness glowed in the back of his mind.

Flicking on the lights, hesitating briefly to blink, squint some, then blink more, he crossed then to the couch paying no etiquette in his graceless flop pillowed as he merely sunk into cushion and squish. An audible sigh followed as he subsided, pulling a hand back through his hair to only let sit a moment while he got one clear view of the room. Though he felt the urge to speak he didn’t…again at a loss of topic, though his quietness was something Maddie must have become very used to. Even in their bonds he was still a silent character; just his nature. Not to say she was an impossible talker, but she often kept the lack of his contributions interesting with her own inputs to anything. Besides, he didn’t much mind the simplicity of listening to her talk just to talk.
His head fell back to the couch then, joining the rest of his posture, the hand in his hair landed tossed across his stomach. Eyes ventured the contours of her ceiling, counting shadows and catching shapes. Yet, before long they were closed, not in fatigue, but content instead, as softly he eased to that middle mind between awareness and the depths of slumber.

[maddie]

There was something strange about the idea that a room was quieter with two people in it than it had been with only one. Though, as Maddie mulled that one over in her mind, she realised that the place only probably sounded louder because of her frantic thoughts. Now that the focus of those thoughts was in the room with her, there was less work for her mind to do. Her dark eyes followed Mitch as he did as she had suggested and made his way into the main living area of the apartment as her clumsy fingers fiddled with her earring. Nerves, she guessed, were making the delicate job even more complicated, but nerves for what?

Truth be told, Madeline always felt that extra flutter of confusion and flurry of emotions when Mitch was around. Logically she should have been over that stage a long time ago, but as girlfriend, best friend, distant pal, she could never manage to shift it. She didn’t know why, either. Of course she still found him attractive but that wasn’t it at all. There was something about being in his company that made her feel like she aught to be embarrassed, and at the same time she felt totally at ease with him. It was a strange combination and she wondered if it would ever leave her.

The clink that the heavy earring made in the small metal bowl broke the silence of her thoughts, yet instead of it ringing back to nothingness again it was as though that one sound woke all the bustle of the world. An eruption of sirens and tire squealing on the road below, the grating buzzer on the front door, and the shrill ring of the telephone made Madeline shriek and jump with shock. A dog on the floor below started to bark, and Maddie growled in response. What was that all in aid of, really, she wondered as she reached for the front door, not two feet away from her, and sung it open.

“One. Minute.” she breathed to the person on the other side, and a foot came over the threshold to hold the door open. The woman, who Madeline seemed to barely acknowledge before thundering off towards her bedroom, remained motionless as the unexpected greeting took its time to register. The middle aged female with hair as fiery orange as a lion’s mane and just as wild, was painted with a stressed and panicked expression. Her large brown eyes were wide and her teeth showed through partly open lips. In her arms were several packets and tubs that dripped water onto the grey carpet of the corridor just outside the door.

Madeline returned from her room with the telephone pressed to her ear and one finger at her lips to silence the bedraggled woman at the door. A frown deepened progressively on her forehead as she listened to the disembodied voice on the other end of the receiver until finally she snapped, “useless!” and hung up. She dropped the phone into the same dish that her earrings now occupied before going back to the door and opening it wide again.

“I ordered from that place again and again they phone back and tell me they don’t have half the stuff for my order. Is it too much to ask for some decent noodles one in a while?”

“My freezer broke!”

As though the magic words had been spoken, Madeline realised at once that the one she needed to explain the food problem to was behind her, not in front of her, and that the woman at the door was in distress. “Oh!” was all she could muster before pulling the door wide and letting the woman inside. She heaved her way in and headed straight through the living room, past the silent Mitch, and into the kitchen to Madeline’s freezer. Maddie followed close behind her, cringing at the trail of water marks she was leaving on the floor, but said nothing about it.

“There’s loads of room in there,” Maddie told her neighbour, opening the door to the scarcely stocked freezer in the corner of the kitchen. “We haven’t gone shopping in ages-”

“Oh!”

Maddie jumped again, this time at the woman’s outburst, and swung around to look at her with wide eyes. She found her staring perplexed and quite embarrassed into the sitting room, and Madeline understood. She echoed with her own ‘oh’ of understanding before trying to cover her tracks. “Miranda, this is Mitch; he’s just hanging out for the evening. Mitch, meet Miranda from three-forty. Her freezer’s broken.” She beamed, fighting the urge to feel embarrassed as Miranda turned a half-hearted glare at her, and she shrugged. She could have warned her for sure, but it didn’t even cross her mind to. Let alone the pure enjoyment she had in watching Miranda try to fix her feathery hair back into its ponytail as the blush rose up her cheeks. “Leave the door on the latch and bring as much of your stuff in as you need to,” she assured her neighbour while not-so-subtle shooing her back the way she had come. Miranda barely managed to utter a few half formed words in her confusion, but a minute later she was back out the door and it closed with a thud behind her.

Madeline, now cast back into momentary silence, chewed on her bottom lip to hide her grin, and turned to face Mitch again. She crossed the living room again and threw herself down into the soft sofa next to him, sighing shortly. “You don’t happen to have a Plan B for tonight, do you?”

---

Ehhh it’s taken forever and is kindasorta crap, but at least its done. Feel free to mod Miranda all you want. I have no idea who she is.