A/N - This is very different from what I've written in the past, especially in terms of style. I tried to get the idea across without being too specific. Hope it worked.
Ray Barnett stepped, rather gratefully, from the frigid, biting wind, into the relative comfort of his apartment building. Starting his shift in the afternoon, the sun had been shining, giving the illusion of warmth that did not exist. Now, on the well-darkened streets after midnight, there was no way to deny the bone-chilling cold of Chicago. The fact that their heater worked intermittently, occasionally choosing to expire in the early hours of the morning, was preferable to the outside conditions. Withdrawing his hands from the safety of his pockets, he punched the elevator button multiple times before giving up and beginning the trek upstairs to his apartment.
Their apartment, he supposed. Neela had moved in a few months ago, originally planning to work shifts opposite him. In the beginning, they literally ran into one another a couple of times a week, but recently the rotations had changed. He'd come off a long shift to find her already asleep, or part of their 24 hours off would overlap. She complained about his band's practices and he was not as neat as she'd prefer, but they'd watched some movies together, even ordered a pizza or two, and decided each could tolerate the company of the other.
As he pushed open the door from the stairwell to his fifth floor hallway, he admitted the flights of stairs had warmed him up considerably. Unwrapping his scarf with one hand, he fished in his pocket for his keys with the other. He entered quietly, knowing Neela has gotten off hours ago and was probably sleeping. But as he walked through the darkened apartment, he heard laughter coming from Neela's bedroom…her's and a deeper baritone. Smiling to himself, he felt almost proud of Neela. It was usually he who entertained in the bedrooms.
Neela had finished an incredibly long, incredibly intense shift just before eight that evening. Her mind had been elsewhere when she agreed to go out for drinks with some of the nurses; she wanted to do nothing more than forgot this shift had ever existed. But they were persistent and arguing would have only made the day worse. So after one plate of appetizers and what equaled a six pack of beers, Neela found herself dancing with a very tall and broad jock-type, the sort she would never had pictured herself with had she not consumed the amount of alcohol she had. Dancing led to a walk home, a walk home led to an invitation, and the invitation led to what she was now experiencing…a make out session that reminded her of what she had missed in college as a serious pre-med and med student.
The young man was a football player, which she assumed meant he was still in college. And his name, which she couldn't quite remember at the moment, also indicated he was young, just enough to give her pause. But she moved on, persuaded by his attentions to her, her response to him, and helped significantly by the buzz the alcohol had created. Currently, she had regained enough of her brain to know they were both lying down on her bed, both partially clothed, laughing over something that she didn't understand, but he found extraordinarily funny.
And then he shifted to be on top of her, more directly, in her line of sight, and seemed to overwhelm her. The rational part of her mind, which had only recently asserted itself, found him entirely too big, too assertive, too wrong for her tonight. And so she halted things, quietly at first, but he either didn't hear or didn't take her seriously. So she spoke up again, much louder, much more clearly, but he only became more aggressive, more insistent. Moving against him, trying to get him off her, trying to stop what was happening; she became louder and stronger, but was still easily under his control. Shouting, crying out, she forcefully used the basic, clear words she knew he wouldn't respond to, as he was enjoying her struggle as much as his plans for what was to come.
At first she thought she had only imagined the loud noise at her door, was confused by another male voice. But then, blessedly, she felt his oppressive force leave her, heard the voices arguing and what she assumed were bodies being banged against each other, and against the apartment walls. Interested only slightly where her assailant had gone, she was flooded with relief at the fact that he had been removed from her bedroom and, for all intents and purposes, from her life. Turning to her side, she drew her knees to her chest, warding off not only the chill in the air, but also the thoughts of how dramatically her life had nearly been altered.
The final shove Ray gave sent him down at least the first flight of stairs. Returning to their apartment, Ray locked every lock they had, double checking, and then leaning against the door as he attempted to slow his breathing. His senses alert the minute he heard his roommate's protests, adrenaline had kicked in as he unceremoniously ushered the interloper from their lives. He felt a stickiness collecting in the corner of his mouth and tenderness around his eye and cheek, evidence that he too had not escaped the encounter unscathed.
Neela heard footsteps in the hall returning to her room, footsteps she was used to hearing in the apartment. Eyes filled with unshed tears, she could make out the silhouette of her roommate, backlit from the hall, leaning against her doorframe. Moments ago he had entered without a thought, now he seemed hesitant to cross such a personal boundary. She shuddered at the thought of him, of anyone, seeing her like this, and then gave in as the shivers that racked her body and tears streamed down her face, a physical release for her tightly held emotions.
He crossed her room then, illuminated only by a small lamp, averting his eyes from her embarrassment, and folded the bed's comforter so it covered her more than the bed. He sat by her, somewhat awkwardly, rubbing her shoulder, striving to provide both comfort and privacy. Minutes passed, and when he thought she was spent, he wiped the final tears from her eyes.
"Tea?" he asked.
"Okay," she responded.
He stood over her, nervously, protectively, prepared to escort her to the living room and beyond.
With great effort and precision, she raised herself to a sitting position, carefully holding the comforter around her, relying on him to guide her.
