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The Yellow Room

~AN APH FANFICTION~

Warnings: Human AU, Male Slash, Smoking
Contains suggestive themes and strong language,
OCs as minor characters, Don't like? Don't read!
Favourite, Follow, Review ― Your Choice
Pairing: Haus Habsburg (Spain and Austria)

I don't own APH whatsoever.

Chapter 2: Overture
(Eight years ago)

…

-o0o-

The door in front of me still remained as dead-motionless as it had always been for the past forty-five minutes. In my sheer unwillingness to just take it as the final straw, I raised a reddened finger and once again, pushed the much-abused doorbell button. Perhaps, it was the hundredth time already. For the hundredth time too, the buzzing sound within started yet again, flinging out strident echoes towards the silence of the morning. Disrupting. Grating.

And for the hundredth time then and again… no one answers at the door.

I pushed the doorbell once more. This time, on several succeeding and more forceful rams filled with irritation and impatience. My aching soles were already protesting in discomfort inside my supposedly well-fitted, everyday shoes. My ears were no better as it started to ring in rhythm with the buzzing sound of the damned doorbell. Even with all of these, I still remained there, screaming my existence. I never really cared anymore if someone suddenly charges out of this door, flailing a sharpened breakfast knife.

Anyway, this situation wouldn't actually happen if I hadn't already wasted forty-five minutes of my carefree life waiting on my feet in front of this stupid door. Besides, the idea of walking away with the frustration of not having accomplished anything had never been an acceptable option for me.

Damn.

Shifting my weight and tiredness from one foot to another and repeating several more tedious times, I began doubting the validity of my recent memories. I recollected every one of them meticulously, replaying each frame inside the theatre of my mind. Had you really contacted the apartment's occupant before showing up? Or maybe you just dreamt that you did? I grabbed my phone from inside of my overcoat and checked its message list. In fact, the said conversation was still at the top of the entire roll.

The last sent message read:

I suppose you are someone interested in the space.
It's still free. Just meet me up in my apartment tomorrow.
Any time before 5 PM would be good. :D

Three days ago, I stopped by a certain bookstore to pass the rest of my lunch time before setting off for a hectic afternoon at the conservatory. By the end of that day, I was so exhausted that I merely surrendered and plunged still fully-clothed towards the tempting hotel bed. However, the fact that I haven't yet searched for a more permanent place prevented me from instantly flying off to dreamland. So I just stood up and tidied my belongings as I always do when feeling stressed.

When I prepared the hotel laundry bag and folded my used trousers, there was this little piece of paper that I got out from one of the pockets. At that moment, I quickly remembered that it was the bookmark I found slipped inside that novel back at the bookshop. It appeared that I had somehow unwittingly slid it in my pocket in some mindless way.

Reading the paper within the quiet confines of my horridly expensive hotel room, I made out that it was a folded classified ad of recent apartment vacancies— and with the best deals! I was thrilled. It could never be timelier and I really needed it.

REASONABLE PRICE AND NEGOTIABLE

My hand reached for the same folded newsprint inside my overcoat pocket. I spread it out and read those words loud and clear in my mind.

I am not very certain if such a shared apartment deal is the rightest or safest decision at the moment. However, whenever the thought of saving about eighty percent more than what I had already carefully calculated, the option gets too irresistible. As I weighed every single thing out, the only possibility that I would not push through this arrangement would be if my roommate himself have obvious unpleasant issues.

Himself.

I admit that the thought of the occupant being a man was just a mere product of my default imaginations. I don't really even know if the actual person's a him or a her. I suppose it's just a wild guess, maybe intuition… even more likely— an expectation. And I admit that there's even more to that. In all actuality, I already made a silly mental picture of a spendthrift young adult with blond hair, wearing a tie and works as a bank clerk. Certainly, that's what I'm presuming to see the moment that this door opens.

Then again, as each heavy and excruciating minute passed by, this belief simply warped out into the other dimension, outside the four walls of my present attentions.

I simply held onto the newsprint paper. My stare eating through every word of the address until it grasped the very numbers 412 printed in boldface. Before I got here, I am very well sure that I really was walking towards the right direction. I am not just simply lost. Not in front of this door that holds a gleaming, bronze-painted-gold "412" above a tiny peephole.

Certainly, I'm not lost at all! Not lost in the fourth floor of this unimpressive old apartment building. Not lost at the fresh paint-smelling hallways… at the sight of Room 412 and its door that simply refuses to open!

A sudden frazzled feeling started to sprout and radiate within my body. I really should have taken a proper breakfast before setting out earlier this morning. Dizzy, I rested the side of my head against the wooden doorframe, staring at the lone window at the end of the silent corridor.

The warm sun was getting brighter, rising up and up into the sky.

With it, all the hopes of me having an at least, considerate roommate were melting.

A sharp scoff escaped my lungs. The unpleasant mixture of infuriation and frustration began to fill my head with hot blood. All the irritation caused by wasted time, wasted effort and the thought of this pointless situation wasting away the period allotted for all the other things listed inside my mental to-do lists made my hand form a very tight fist… and repeatedly bang it hard against the unyielding door's surface.

I only stopped when I finally heard a muffled voice and one obvious clink of something ceramic falling then rolling down on hard floor. My anger significantly toned down, though my irritation still seared under my skin. I then sighed, flexed my fingers and pushed the doorbell button once again.

Now, a much clearer voice sounded off a few feet behind the door. I slightly made out what he was saying and just as I guessed, he was a man. Apparently, he seemed to speak in a foreign language which resembles Spanish or perhaps, Italian. My expectations honestly didn't include a foreign person. Actually, I even forgot to consider it as a possibility.

Finally, the closed door that I faced for almost an hour opens into a crack, only to be tugged back by a safety chain. The person behind immediately freed the lock and swung the door very wide.

Who I saw was clearly not of my expectation. He's a person that wasn't even included in my numerous considerations and wild guesses. In fact, he might not even pass as a possibility for me.

Then again, I realised that all co-incidences are still concrete possibilities.

I stalled. He spoke first.

"…You!"

"Oh… you." I placidly replied.

"You're the guy from three days ago…" He pointed a finger at me on which I intensely glowered at. He then immediately dropped it and continued, "…at the bookstore, three blocks away. W-why are you here? Is there something you need from me? How did you find me here?"

"What's with the million questions?" I cynically retorted at his nervous laugh. "Don't get any funny ideas. I came here for the space and I'm kind of surprised too… I never thought I'll cross paths with you again, stranger. Certainly not this way."

He gave an intent stare before finally breaking into a hearty laugh. "Well, I think I'm very much glad to see you again."

He was still exactly the same as I remembered him. What would three days do anyway? He still asks questions way too straightforwardly, his skin was still swarthy, his eyes were still as cloying as ever and his smile still gives off too much unnecessary kindness. Although, he wasn't in a striped sweater like before, his was now clad in a dark red hoodie which also covers most of his unkempt brown hair. It's just all the difference… well maybe I could add those reddened eyelids and that little piece of plaid Band-Aid on his jaw, peeking under the fabric of his hood.

I blinked my eyes away from him, to automatically observe what my vision could catch from where I was standing. When he apparently just froze and stood there, I raised an eyebrow.

"You won't invite me in?"

"Uh…yeah. Sorry… please come in."

The living room was fairly neat and tidy with the exceptions of a fallen duvet in front of a sofa, some cluttered pillows and an open TV on mute. A lone ceramic angel figurine with a wing missing also sits atop a wood and glass coffee table. Perhaps, it was what I heard falling a while ago.

Besides all of those, it looked fine. The furniture didn't appear too tacky for my taste and I actually appreciate how symmetrical the red carnations were arranged on one table-top vase. The shiny laminated floor appeared clean and across to other side was a good space that could definitely house a piano. It was just a little dark, though. Perhaps, the curtains of the supposedly sufficient light-giving bay window close by were just too thick.

After sweeping a hundred and eighty-degree view, my eyes flicked back towards the hooded man. It annoyed me as I just saw him still near the doorway, just standing passively and not doing anything to accommodate my future questions nor pushing an effort to sell his deal.

I took a loud deep breath, wanting to get a hold of his attention. When the breath I inhaled immediately turned into sharp sigh of exasperation, he at last pulled out from the almost-empty bookshelf he was leaning against and met me at where I was standing.

"Sorry, could you smell some tobacco?" He piped up, slipping the fabric of his hood down to his shoulders. "Well... I smoke but I only do it on the balcony outside. I think I should let you know."

I just shook my head. "No, I don't smell such in particular."

Just moments after he spoke, it hit me straight away that he hadn't got a single bit of my exasperation at all. Apparently, the intended words behind my actions just slipped through his realisations as he only thought that I was plainly sniffing around his place.

"The ventilation here in the living room might have a hard time getting rid of the fumes, so I don't really smoke indoors. Plus, the odour might sink into the curtains and upholstery."

Aside from his odd means of reading my gestures, what bewildered me the most was his equally odd way of thinking.

You won't let smoke into your precious living space and yet you like them going inside your body? Isn't that kind of ironic?

Even though I really wanted to tell him that, I only bit my lip and kept that remark to myself. Besides, it's clear that wasn't really a concern of mine anyway. Going back to the task at hand, I simply sauntered away towards the bay window. The soft sunlight immediately fell into my face as I knelt on the windowsill-couch and grasped away the thick curtain. Then I peeked at the outside scene against the mellow glare. Across the street lies a small park and the window provides quite a fairly adequate glimpse of it.

However, aside from that, the window was really nothing special. The window's design even seemed a little inconvenient, since I discovered that only the two small top panels could be opened.

"The person who was with me before really liked that window. Back then, that was the feature that had him convinced to rent the place from the original owner. Ever since… it had been quite a precious place—"

I quietly stepped back and looked at him. "Where would be my bedroom?"

His lips stretched into a small smile and he opened the wooden door behind him.

"It's a little bigger than mine. My bedroom's just next door. This room has wall-to-wall nylon carpeting and there behind the curtains is a sliding window." He enounced and raised a hand to gesticulate." Also, that… uhm, portafinestre leads to the small balcony outside. The last occupier here left all of his furniture. Use or replace it... whatever suits you."

I wandered around and carefully inspected every corner, including the closet and drawers. The room was just fine. There was nothing really bad that I could say about it. Although the green curtains and bed sheets looked immensely despicable. The too-soft, squashy mattress needed to be replaced too. Even so, I could fairly fix those shortcomings myself. A writing desk is also a good addition.

As my eyes flick back a little bit, I caught a glimpse of him looking intently through the lamp atop the nightstand. I was witnessing his happy expression die down before he suddenly picks up my stare and chuckled.

"Let's move on? I'll show you the bathroom and the kitchen."

We immediately left the bedroom and he then showed me the connected laundry, kitchen and dining area. It was fairly tidy, has complete appliances and the short kitchen counter appeared pest-proof. There was only one toilet and bath to use but it appeared spacious enough and clean as well, except for a tipped messy vase of wilted carnations in the sink that needed to be thrown away.

Meticulously checking everything for half an hour, there was nothing I could really find wrong about the unit to prevent me from closing the deal. In fact, I actually liked the interior's warm ambience very much. My piano will find a good home here too, most importantly. However, I could never deny that I still have bugging second thoughts about that chirpy guy who will eventually become a roommate of mine.

However, he's like a non-negotiable fixture. He is already part of the package even from the start. It's not that I don't like him because he looks suspiciously felonious to me. On the other hand, I still frustratingly admit that I really couldn't pull out a deeper reason on why I find him unpleasant. Can't one mere dislike be simply an effect of just because? I finally guess… it could.

He is now seated at the couch across me, spooning some syrupy hot chocolate drink and then splitting some store-bought crackers above a bowl. He had offered me those just a while ago which I, of course, kindly refused. I was quite starving for not having a decent breakfast yet. However, I don't really have the appetite to eat off someone else's breakfast, not that I even find theirs especially delectable.

"By the way, what time did you arrive this morning?"

"I see that you really do ask very good questions." I slid back my eyeglasses up my nose bridge. "I arrived here about a quarter past-seven. And as I say that, you would probably realise by this very moment how tiresomely long I've waited in front of your door."

"I'm very sorry for that." He laughed nervously, "You must think that I'm rude or insensitive but I really had a hard night before and—"

"Okay, okay... I don't really need an explanation. You can't bring back my wasted time with those words anyway." A little sigh then eased out of my chest. "Still, I'm taking your offer."

If his delight could illuminate a light bulb, it would be as bright as thousands of candelas that it could probably cause blindness.

"Oh you don't know how much I appreciate it! Thank you very much, Mr… at the books—"

"Roderich Edelstein." I stressed out.

"Thank you very, very much Mr. Edelstein."

My hand slid inside my coat and reached for my phone. I woke up the screen and viewed my calendar, sliding through different dates. After a small inner deliberation, I raised my gaze and finally chose to ask him.

"Can I move in by Saturday? Saturday morning… shall it be convenient? "

"Sure, sure. I promise I'd really be at the door the moment you arrive."

"Well, that's good to hear." I said, letting out a sarcastic smirk.

He smiled back at me without any hesitation. The guy merely thought that I just genuinely gave him a nice, positively candid smile. I wondered how he could manage to do that in a seemingly very sincere way— that extremely kind expression towards me whom he barely knew. Even if they're supposed to be as straightforward as his questions, I still find it difficult to justify those too-gentle green eyes of his. Yes, I just noticed it, bright green eyes… what a clear-cut pair of green eyes it is. It closely resembles the colour of moss.

And I really... really hate moss.

…

-o0o-

Author's Notes:

Well that's it… review? It's refreshing.

ON THE NEXT!:

Chapter 3: Impetuoso

[Excerpt]

...In a swift compulsion, I locked myself inside my room and let my body fall down flat against the bed. Rolling on my side and palming my forehead I thought, Was it too much? Honestly, I don't even think that I've said those words intimidatingly enough to make any person tremble in fear. Those words were nothing but tame... at least it was, compared to others that I remembered uttering in the past. I couldn't find anything, anything at all— whether it be my tone or my choice of words— that could explain why Antonio reacted as If I were about to rip his throat out with a sharp knife...

you would probably realise by this very moment how tiresomely long I've waited in front of your door