Mariah.

The Chemicals Between Us

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oOo5rcG.gif THE CHEMICALS BETWEEN US, THE WALLS THAT LIE BETWEEN US
A wide array of boxes act as bricks forming a second set of walls, standing tall around an exhausted Emma De Angelo. Dressed in low-rise, cut off short shorts and a white midriff baring blouse, tied above her belly ring and over her ample breasts, she stares out her large, paneled window, down to the city below. Cars race by in bold patterns, filled with strangers with seemingly no real purpose—nothing to live for beyond their excess. But her purpose for living sat joyously behind her; no care in the world, and lacking the knowledge of how cruel it could be. It was he: Lucas De Angelo, her one true love.

She’d never allow Lucas to see the world for what it truly was, for as long as she could. She was his protector; his provider. But there were times that she longed for help. Someone who loved her five year old and was willing to protect him as much as she was. Someone to help ease the load she felt weighing down on her petite frame, wearing out every bone. Her thoughts cycle briefly to Lucas’ deceased father and his final moments before the chemicals in his system consumed him, an apology for failing her and their son stuttering through a cold, trembling mouth. Every time the memory is replayed, her heart broke into pieces, for she didn’t believe her nor Lucas would find love like that again.

“Lucas, baby, don’t break that please! I need you to quiet down and relax for five minutes; mommy is on the phone,” Emma begs her toddler before returning to speak to her landlord on the other end of the line, her frustration mounting. It had been several days now since the move in, but it appeared that likewise with her losing a babysitter, everything was coming apart at the seams. Her apartment, in particular, was literal. “Listen carefully. Your contractor was supposed to be here a fucking hour ago and I’m paying you too much money for rent to be sitting around waiting. My pipes are broken, my cabinet doors are falling from their hinges, drawers are getting stuck, and that's not even everything wrong with this place. And on top of all the renovations needed: I've barely unpacked, I have a million other errands to run, I have to call my boss to get the weekend off, I’ve missed out on my first week of classes. Please. I don’t need this process to be any harder. If you could just page him again or something. Or just give me his cell number and I'll reach out myself.” She runs her clawed hand through her hair, combing and tugging it back, then waits as the landlord runs through his rehearsed reply. “Okay, fine. I’ll give it twenty more minutes,” she concludes before slapping the flip phone closed and letting a gust of air escape her glossed lips.

Quietly reciting the mantra routinely used to ease her stress, Emma refused to allow the walls to cave in on her. Resilience was her greatest strength, and it was too premature to renounce the new life she had set path toward. “Lucas, what did I—” she begins to scold as she redirects her attention back to her son, soon after interrupted by a knock on her door. “Listen, we'll talk about it later. Go get one of your coloring books and sit still while I answer the door, please and thanks my love.” 

She adjusts her appearance to a palatable state, then finally marches toward the door and turns the lock to slowly open.
MONTY
@Maxim
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oOo5rcG.gif I WANT YOU TO SURRENDER; ALL MY FEELINGS ROSE TODAY
Bobby parks his truck and raises his pelvis toward his steering wheel, granting him access to his back pocket for his notepad. Looking up from the address jotted down on an otherwise clean page, he then briefly surveys his surroundings. There wasn’t much to behold of the scenery of his location, Bobby very familiar with the tall brick, glass and cement buildings which made up the downtown Olympia skyline; moreso with what monsters hide behind every corner. But by day, the sun seemed to reflect off the rows of windows, giving the city’s core a more optimistic feel. Like there were actual hopes and dreams to be had in an otherwise cold, corrupt place. He knew better, however, especially after how a night of bliss and passion with an unforgettable woman, quickly unraveled into a reminder of the demons he tried to battle⁠—to escape. And he wasn’t even able to bring himself to risk asking to see her again, regrettably so. A result which drew the relentless shaming from a recovering Andrew, who argued that he passed the ball and took a bullet in the process, only for Bobby to fumble.

Exhaling to air out the smoky memories left behind from that fiery night, he next exits the vehicle and unloads his tools from the back to throw himself into his day’s work. He trots up slightly and has to take a minute or two to find his access key upon arriving at the apartment entrance, then marches toward the elevator and pushes down on the given floor. The journey up provides a moment to reminisce once more on the night he found an “angel”. The curves and flow of her body. The taste of her supple lips. The slickness of her tongue. The way she’d tremble as he’d suck markings on her skin. The point of her breasts imprinting on his tongue. The lasting, rich sweetness of her center. Jesus fucking Christ, Bobby, can you stop? It’ll never happen again. It’s over; she’s out of your life. It’s time to focus on work. He sighs once more and narrows down to the door he’s looking for, finally arriving and giving it a knock. With his head still peering down at the paper, ensuring he’s got the correct set of numbers, the lock turns open.

“Um, good afternoon, Ms…. De Angelo? Uh, plumber here answering that service call you-” he cuts himself off as he find himself eye-to-eye with the face that’s plagued his mind for the last eight nights. He hasn’t seen or heard even a peep from the unmistakably ravishing girl he’d found himself engaged with at the club that night. A part of him was willing to shoulder that blame, as he himself had become almost overwhelmingly swamped with more jobs and other insidiously vital shit he’d had going on since that time. The other, very obscure part of him just happened to be a teeny bit disappointed that she likely hadn’t made to seek him out in any way, especially given the implicit, but surely palpable desire they’d shared between them that night. He’d begun to deduce, after some time, that perhaps that had been her way of letting him off easily⁠—to possibly establish that both of their priorities were dissimilar; that, realistically, he was nothing more beyond a regular mark that had ended up swept up in Emma’s routine finesse and lined her pockets with a few extra chunks of cash. Still yet, he can’t help but break into a pink smile⁠—lips parted—at the vision of her. Nothing about her had changed; not that it would or even could. She remained an incomparable sight that he couldn't even fucking bear. “-made. I’m sorry, Ms. De Angelo? It just hadn’t dawned on me that you were a repeat customer,” he sniggers and scratches the back of his head, quick to quip. His blue eyes fixate before him and his jawline flexes, projecting his patent allure, then he continues. “But I’m happy to be of service again. Uh, wanna invite me in and show me where you need help?”
MONTY
@Mariah.
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oOo5rcG.gif THE CHEMICALS BETWEEN US, THE WALLS THAT LIE BETWEEN US
Frozen in frame, Emma trips over her dry tongue trying to greet the contractor, having come to realize it was... him. But there he stood. Tall, with his incredibly chiseled physique, like a picturesque mountain to climb. A smile smooth and sweet as melted caramel, drizzling itself all over the increasing warmth of Emma's golden skin. Piercing eyes both comforting and dangerous. Like a stream of lightning, it's only seconds before she's caught with him and her memories of their tryst again, his hypnosis and ability to blanket her mind, body and spirit still bewildering beyond measure. She still can't speak, nor did she know if she should. But her body language and silent expression were already doing the talking. Although she didn't really plan to ever reach out, she longed to see him again; to be with him again. Their moment together was far too quick and fleeting. Yet still, nothing since arriving in Olympia felt as good. Rather nothing since the passing of her first love or, truthfully, ever. It was an intimacy a long time coming. But one she was uncertain of whether or not she should pursue; not solely because of her emotional barrier, but due to the dark cloud that appeared to loom behind him, proven wide cast by the battlefield that became of the club their night together. Like a knight, however, his bravery, valiance and desire to protect her—shown in that moment—made his pull impossible to escape. He was a bad boy with a good heart, and such a man was her weakness.

Her heart slams against the cage it’s locked behind, when finally she says his name. "Bobby? I—" her voice falls out from beneath her once more, forcing her body to cascade into the depths of him and his every trait. He was so irresistible. "Um, hey. I wasn't expecting... well I was expecting someone to come fix my pipes, but not—"

"Mommy!" Lucas intrudes, latching onto Emma's leg like a baby bear. "Who's that? You said Bobby like my friend Bobby?"

Emma's cheeks flushed a balmy peach tone in mild embarrassment before her child, when she'd try to form a clear answer as though she was under interrogation. It isn't that serious. He’s a child—your child. Just tell him it's the plumber. "Um, that's what it says on his name... shit, no name tag,” she mistakenly remarks out loud. “Yes, sweetheart, like your friend Bobby. Except he... he's mommy's... friend? And the plumber, apparently. Also please promise mommy you'll never, ever repeat that bad ‘sh’ word. Okay?" She looks back up to face Bobby, her breath having grown thick. “This is pretty awkward.”
MONTY
@Maxim
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oOo5rcG.gif I WANT YOU TO SURRENDER; ALL MY FEELINGS ROSE TODAY
Standing in the doorway of a familiar stranger, mouth agape, Bobby tries to drink in the entire scene in front of him. Having to thread through so many different elements at once, making sense of it all, he almost had to wonder if this was some kind of deliberate set-up. The very thought, in spite of its absurdity, incited a wave of emotion that washed over him as he took the time to assess the scene in front of him. One of them: pure shock, as Bobby found himself face-to-face with the figure that he had begun to taper off as a blissful memory, after enough time had elapsed with no form of contact between the two of them whatsoever—mild irritation at the aforementioned, Bobby considering that, perhaps, she’d never intended to reconnect with him at all after that one fateful night at the club. It’s the minute, but pertinent, feeling of elation that put him at odds with himself—a feeling that, perhaps, with this reconnection, they could in fact pick up where their scintillating whirlwind encounter left them that evening. Against the nagging voice at the back of his mind, he was kind of ecstatic to be able to just see Emma again; to thread his fingers once more through her soft and lush-looking blonde hair, to purposefully caress the silk exterior of her abnormally smooth skin, to feel the rigid indent in her back to where her modest ass begins to curve and take its shape, to put his mouth to her body and indulge in the succulence of the fine, rare fruit which she bore both high and low. Unwittingly, he’d begun to lose himself in his thoughts of bliss and debauchery, all before it all became outweighed by a crippling feeling of frank shock and bewilderment.

Bobby can recall the night in its entirety mostly. He and Emma had spent nearly the entire night engaged in shallow, then deep, conversation, before they came to a point where there wasn’t much room for talk at all. But not once had there ever been any acknowledgement of a child at any time, if memory serves correct. His chagrin having evolved through rekindled concupiscence, then through surprise, finally falls to captivation toward the young mother and her adorable offspring. Her big secret, so to speak, only proved to rope him in further despite his frustration. This, however, only meant that he had pages upon pages of questions to be answered, on top of the one which drilled at his brain: why did she lead him on, only to not really want him?

Kneeling down before the little boy to level their heights, he attempts to make pleasantries, with a smirk and a wink to express how instantly he was taken by the child’s charms. “Yo, hey little buddy,” he’d greet. “You must be the man of the house, yeah? Ya mind if I come in and take a look at those broken pipes for you and mommy? I doubt I’m as cool as the Bobby you're already friends with, but I bet you’d be pretty impressed by what I can do with a couple of these tools in my box. I can even show you how some of them work; I’ll make you my special helper. Uh, if that’s alright with mommy of course.” Still knelt down on one bent knee, with his forearm rested on the other knee, he looks up to the stunning Emma for her simple approval. A one word yes, if nothing else.
MONTY
@Mariah.
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oOo5rcG.gif THE CHEMICALS BETWEEN US, THE WALLS THAT LIE BETWEEN US
The tableau image was haunting and intimidating to one Emma De Angelo, even though it realistically served little to no meaning. Bobby—who she had taken to, far too fast for her liking—down before her on a single bended knee, looking to her with his soothing eyes for an answer. A pose so specific in its symbolism, she couldn't help but fall to pieces. And to herself at least, that simple 'yes' in this instance implicitly held the same meaning as the one her wildest thought would call upon; that in saying 'yes' to allowing him through her doors, to interact with her son, to continue on getting to know the truth about her beyond the smoky haze of that night... she'd perhaps be saying yes to more than what she was prepared for. That she may be saying yes to allowing him into her life; into her heart. But she couldn't refuse or resist him, and her hospital conversation with Bobby's best friend Andrew made her wonder if she should just allow herself to give in.

"Yeah, I, uh, guess that's fine. As long as it's—you know—safe..." the protective, guarded mother bear immediately questions, taking her typical cautionary measures before changing her mind. "But you really don't have to. I was just about to give him something to eat, anyway, so we shouldn't be in your way. Um, you can come in though. I'll show you where needs to be fixed,” she adds as she leans forward, trying to avoid further eye contact with her infectious former lover, and grabs her son to hoist onto her left hip.

Leading Bobby through the apartment, to the kitchen area, she rests little Lucas atop the counter as the child pulls her face in and lays a long kiss upon her cheek to settle her down, having sensed his mother's butterflies in the presence of this new man. Lucas then crawls across the island, and finds himself a seat above where Bobby began to set up. "My name is Lucas, by the way, Mister Bobby. How do I help?" he precociously inquires, as Emma puts her hand to her forehead, then runs it through her locks.
MONTY
@Maxim
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oOo5rcG.gif I WANT YOU TO SURRENDER; ALL MY FEELINGS ROSE TODAY
Watching Emma’s exasperation only managed to endear Bobby a bit, so he releases a chuckle and settles on having some fun with it. Standing up at full height to meet Lucas’ gaze head on, he musters up as serious a look as he could in this situation. “Actually, I’m glad you mentioned it, buddy. I heard that there was a lot of work to be done here today, and I don’t think there’s any way I could do this all on my own.” He makes a gesture to ruffle his hair a bit, but decided against it out of fear that it may come across a bit condescending. Lucas may be but a toddler, but just gauging his demeanor and personality in the short space of time was enough to prompt Bobby of his intuity and acute perception. He could see that the kid was pretty sharp for his age.

“It’s a pretty big job, though. You’ve gotta promise me you’re strong enough to handle it." He’d turn to fix the toddler with a gaze that lacked any real heat, but was believably stern enough to sell his ruse. It was only when he saw the kid return a look with just as much conviction, nodding his head vigorously, and perhaps some semblance of his little chest being puffed (if Bobby’s eyes weren’t deceiving him), he knew that he’d fallen in love with the little squirt already. Connecting his pinky with the toddler’s significantly smaller one ended up holding more weight to it than just a vague gesture of affirmation. To Bobby, it was a progressive step in the best direction possible; that even though there was a mountain of grey area between both of the adults present… lots of questions unanswered. Even if thoughts of something fruitful between the two was nothing short of a pipe dream on Bobby’s end, he knew he’d attained a small victory in that moment—seemingly receiving the tiniest stamp of approval from what seemed to be Emma’s entire world, by Bobby’s observation.
MONTY
@Mariah.
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