Junk
You’re jostled from your sleep by somebody shaking you gently, carefully.
You flit your eyes open, only to catch a glimpse of Tony, his worried face.
Anxiety stabs and churns your stomach so suddenly it made you jerk back, a scream threatening to escape your lips.
“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” Tony starts, bring a warm hand to your forehead. “It’s okay. It’s just me. It’s just me.”
“T — Tony,” you struggle, feeling your chest heave heavy breaths as you sit up.
Tony’s other hand was on your shoulder, keeping you steady — you were thankful of it because even you could feel how bad you were trembling.
“The, uh, air conditioner then?” Tony raised, pulling his hands back from your face when he was satisfied with whatever deduction.
“Yeah,” you breathed, “yeah.” You stood, Tony moved back in response, letting you take lead.
You led him to your little air conditioner cupboard that contained the unit, having had to step around and navigate through the trash of a living room.
Had you really fallen asleep? Were you that lazy? You hadn’t cleaned, and now Tony was here to the mess.
You were still a bit dazed with the sudden appearance of Tony — you had meant to clear up the whole mess of your apartment tod… yesterday — so you let him start on the junk, stepping off to the side.
Tony opened the door, assessing the unit with his eyes before glancing over at you.
“Alright…” Tony sighed, reaching down for a screwdriver from a tool box he must’ve brought over. His face was complicated; he probably didn’t even want to be here.
You stepped away from him further while he started on it, saying, “I’ll go, uhm… tidy up my room.”
It really did need to be cleaned.