Don't Break The Rules

Chapter 2 - Move-In

"How come you don't have a place to stay?"

Jamie leaned over the island counter, staring at a stumbling Joe trying to balance himself. He had been handed glasses of water and could barely finish the first one, but Jamie forced him to keep drinking it.

Joe had been surprised the moment they stepped inside the apartment. The decors were ravishingly, the colours in a comfortable harmony, and all the canvases were expensive ones from many well-known artists. At the entrance, a long hallway had a few doors, one of the laundry room and two bedrooms. Then, a few steps down was the entry to the huge space, on the left being the marble kitchen with an island in the center, and on the right, there was a stepped down living room, three couches around a glass table, facing a humongous television, replicating the feeling of being in a theatre.

Each room had its own bathroom, one thing Joe found peculiar was the cleanliness of the place. It was way too perfect, as if nobody even existed here; there was no personality that evoked from this apartment. He couldn't tell what Jamie preferred or if he even had a life outside of work since there was nothing other than the furnitures that were spotless.

"You can sit down by the way." Jamie finally said after a snort, noticing how Joe was struggling to even stand.

After taking a seat, Joe shrugged his shoulders and answered, "I don't have a job."

"You look like you should?"

Joe wondered if Jamie was simply clueless or shallow, but either or, the way he spoke with lack of empathy—lack of any emotions for that matter—made him shuffle in his seat. He cleared his throat before he added, "I lost my job."

"How did you lose your job?" Jamie noticed Joe becoming reluctant to answer the questions, his face tightening as he glancing elsewhere. But he was not taking no for an answer and he tilted his head to the side, forcing their gazes to meet. "I know you heard my question."

"I don't want to talk about it," Joe snapped, his head turning violently to face Jamie, who raised an eyebrow challengingly.

He stood tall, broadening his shoulders. "Then get out of my apartment." Jamie was quite toned, which Joe had noticed the moment he first eyed him. He was definitely more muscular than Joe, who never even headed to a gym once in his life.

"Okay."

Joe pushed the glass over the counter, letting it crash into the tiles and began heading for the door. However, when he reached the door, he thought about walking around the streets in the middle of the night, too ashamed to face his grandmother at three a.m. in the morning.

His ankles rapidly rotated and returned to the kitchen, meeting Jamie's raised eyebrows. There was nowhere else for him to go. And besides, Jamie's place was way too nice to ignore this opportunity. "My husband divorced me, and I got...depressed, I could say."

"Now was that so hard to admit?" Jamie chuckled, shaking his head. He reached his rag and began cleaning the broken glass and spilt water. The way he did it—his lats shifting from left the right as he cluttered the pieces together, how the shirt squeezed slightly every time his arm moved—Was enough to make Joe's body begin to throb.

However, when Joe noticed his hand stop for a second, he rapidly turned elsewhere, unsure if Jamie had seen him checking him out. But all Jamie said was, "I figured you were gay."

"Yes, I am." Joe paused for a moment before adding, "Sorry about the glass."

"I bartend for a living while I go to school; cleaning broken glass is a daily thing." He threw the pieces in the garbage, and made Joe another glass of water; he didn't seem upset by the glass whatsoever. "You need to drink more water though and you won't have a hangover in the morning."

"I'm not even drunk."

"If you weren't," his eyes became malicious for a moment, "I would've knocked your teeth out of your mouth when you threw my damn glass on the floor." Then, he smiled again. "So that means your drunk."

Joe did not respond, a few chills running along his spine. Even the air had gotten eerie for a second as he threatened him, but then completely vanished when he smiled; Jamie was definitely a peculiar guy.

He leaned over the counter again. "So who was your husband?"

"A guy named Connor."

"How long were you guys married?"

"Seven years."

"And you broke up why?"

Joe shrugged his shoulders. "He just said he didn't love me anymore."

Jamie nodded his head. "At least he was honest instead of cheating on you."

"I guess," Joe furrowed his brows, "but why are you so intrigued?"

"Because today you seemed so..." Jamie squinted his eyes, pausing for a second as if he was searching for the right words, but eventually shook his head and smiled. "You just seemed upset, that's all."

Confused, Joe slowly nodded and reached for his glass, awkwardly taking a sip.

The interrogation started again. "Who did you live with before?"

"My grandmother." Joe felt the alcohol slowly seep away, his soberness returning the more he drank.

Jamie raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you could easily take advantage of that."

"She's quite young for her age; she had my mother when she was thirteen."

"A w***e then?"

Joe paused for a second, studying Jamie's face to see if he was joking, but Jamie's regard remained the same.

Uncertain, he slowly shook his head and frowned. "...no...?"

"A kid at thirteen sounds like a w***e to me." Jamie shrugged his shoulders before straightening his spine. "Why d'you leave her house then?"

"I got kicked out today."

"Why?"

"Do I have to answer all your—"

"I'm getting a feel for you. And no you don't have to, you'd just have to get out and that's your freedom."

Joe sighed, wondering if staying here was worth it. "Because she got me an interview and told me not to come back without the job."

"I'm guessing you didn't get the job?"

"I didn't even go to the interview; I just wanted to get drunk."

"So you're an alcoholic?" he smirked.

Joe inhaled a sharp breath, slowly becoming aggravated. "No I'm not—"

"Addicted?"

"Again, no."

"Where's your mother then? Why don't you just go live with her?"

Joe always had a hard time talking about her, and he gulped stressfully before uttering, "She passed."

"When?" Not a trace of empathy.

"Two years ago."

"From what?"

"Cancer—"

"Which type?"

"Melanoma—listen, I respect you and all, but do we...have to talk about this?"

"Do you want a place to stay?" he laughed quietly, staring at the table before glancing towards Joe and his throat instantly squeezed. Joe appeared heartbroken, his eyes glistening and he visually struggled to maintain his composure.

He noticed the pain spreading across his face and his muscles tensed, hence Jamie immediately grabbing his empty water glass and filling it to the rim. "Any siblings?"

"My older sister doesn't talk to me."

"Why not?" he asked as he handed him his glass of water.

"This topic isn't any better than the last one."

Jamie rolled his eyes. "Then what can you talk about?"

"I didn't know we had to talk about something."

"I'm just trying to get a feel for you, old man."

"I'm not that old, I'm only three years older than you—"

"How did you know that?" When Joe noticed Jamie's eyes become sharp, he rapidly reached for his glass and took another long sip. "You were checking me out, huh?"

When Joe did not answer, one end of Jamie's lips lifted and he patted himself on the shoulder. "That's fine, I get that a lot. The blue eyes, isn't it? Or is it the gold curls?"

"I'm tired," Joe said quietly, hesitating between sleeping on the streets or staying at Jamie's, since Jamie was weirdly arrogant and self-centred, it appeared. He had never assumed such behaviour from those soft features.

Jamie smiled, suddenly not wanting Joe to actually leave. "Relax, I'm almost done."

"Please, I don't want to talk about my family—"

"I was going to ask you to move-in with me."