skipping beats [ c ]

His apartment is small, but it's spacey enough for him. Sparse furniture, clean lines, it barely looks lived in, but it's his. For now at least - he can't say what he'll do once his time here is up. Go back to school, he supposes. Finish what he's started.

Feliks isn't entirely used to being on his own. In some ways, he's always been on his own, he's always had his own secrets. In other ways - well, he's the baby of the family, he's the child his parents coddled when the others had grown up. His mother still calls him every day - those days he isn't diligent enough to be a good son and call her first.

He never has much to say, and now he tries to scrounge up what he'll tell her. How much he's learning, all the people he's meeting. Absently, sleeves pushed up to his elbows and scrubbing at dinner plates.

His mind drifts, his attention too, and when he focuses his eyes and realizes the girl out on his fire escape, the sponge and plate slip from his hands and leave a mess of shards and dish soap on the kitchen floor, and Feliks frozen in shock in the middle of it.

@rhea