hearts open wide

Angelo wasn't really used to being awkward or nervous. He was a pretty straight to the point guy. He didn't like playing mind games, and he didn't like being awkward with people, which meant he was generally the first person to try and reach out and address an issue.

Not this time. This time it was just way too bad. The entire night had been bad. He'd pretty much had a fucking meltdown in front of Tybalt. He might have even cried, although his memory was a bit foggy on the subject. Maybe he'd just teared up? Maybe he'd felt like crying but not actually done it?

Either way it was a clusterfuck.

Any time he had to deal with Tybalt over the next few days, he made like a six year old and hid. If Tybalt had to pass by, he'd be in the bathroom. If Tybalt needed a report, it was left on his desk. If they were in the break room at the same time, he'd forgotten something at his desk. He knew it was petty, but that really didn't change that it was how he felt.

So when Tybalt actually approached him near the end of shift, Angelo went stiff. He was literally mid sentence in the closing summary of his report, and he clenched his jaw for a minute before finally carrying on typing, trying to just finish it out.

Angelo actually jumped slightly when Tybalt spoke. He really hadn't been expecting him to. He'd expected him to linger, and then for him to move on. Instead, he'd basically invited him over, and Angelo's head turned slightly, peeking up at him.

Of course, there was no wide smile or anything really welcoming. Tybalt looked just the same as he always did, which was more or less resting bitchface. Tybalt didn't quite look grumpy, but he always looked like he was unhappy with something or another. Maybe he was - or maybe that was just how his face looked.

"Sure." He said after a moment's pause, deciding that knowing was better than living in ignorance. "I'll meet you at the front after?"

Why did he feel tense? It was just his apartment. Or his home. Or whatever you wanted to call it when you rented a room from someone. It wasn't like he was taking Tybalt home to meet his parents (or his extremely sketchy parental equivilents). But even so, he still felt stressed over the idea, like he was exposing some part of himself to Tybalt that he hadn't otherwise. He'd brought girls back to his apartment before - so why was this different?

Because it was, whether he wanted to admit or not. At that moment he wished he could smoke, just so he'd have something to do to ease the tension. He took longer than usual, collecting his stuff before heading out front, giving Tybalt a quick glance.

"It's not far from here." Which was one of the many reasons he had jumped at the ad. "I live with a roommate, for the record, but he probably won't be home at this hour." And if he was, Angelo would just make an excuse and haul Tybalt up to his room... and then get grilled about it later. There was no way Jack would miss a chance to point out that Angelo hadn't brought anyone home before then.

His thoughts were the worst kind of poison, anxiety bubbling up inside him. The silence meant everything and nothing to him, and he had no way of telling if he was reading too much into it or not.

The house wasn't his, but he liked it well enough. He let himself in with his key, peeking at the shoes by the door and finding only the usual ones. Jack was probably out, and he gestured for Tybalt to come in as he stuck his head around the ground floor. It looked fairly normal, save for the art all over the place and the rather obviously missing TV. There was a TV stand, a couch facing the TV stand... and no TV.

At least he'd covered up all the bullet holes.

"Well... welcome to my home. Or my roommates home, anyway. He owns the place." The rent was next to nothing, the company was good, and he could literally walk to work. "I was going to warn you about the paint smell, but you're probably used to it." The house smelled like alcohol and cigarette smoke in places, but the scent of paint was overpowering at times.

Not that Angelo noticed anymore. He'd grown so used to it it didn't even register for him. "I've got the run of the second floor to myself." There was a second bedroom, but no one had ever moved in.

Ahh, fuck. Now they were home, and... well, what then? What were they supposed to do? Angelo flushed slightly, hiding it by turning away to peek into the kitchen one last time.

"Upstairs I guess. Jack could get back at any time, and I need to check on the little guy." He gestured to the stairs, kicking off his shoes before heading up himself.

His bedroom was just off the stairs once they reached the second floor, and Angelo let himself in, heading over to the cage by his bed. The room was nicely furnished, although a bit mismatched, and it was obvious he'd picked up what furniture he could get his hands on cheaply or second hand. It looked well lived in, although there were no photos except for a single one on the nightstand beside his bed, showing a group shot with his family, complete with little Angelo.

The bed itself was large enough to take up a good chunk of the room, and aside from a single chair tucked into a desk at the corner, there wasn't really a place to sit beyond the bed itself.

Angelo lifted the blanket covering what was obviously a cage, peeking inside before recovering it. It was a bit early to wake anyone up, so he sat back on the bed instead.

"My place." He said, gesturing around the room.