Finn came home in a taxi cab. It wasn’t long past ten at night, and he had gone out with some friends after work. The moon hung still in the sky, half full and glowing on the clouds. It was cold. Finn stuffed his hands in his pocket and headed for the door. The ‘lobby’ (it was really just two sets of doors and stairs) was small, but much warmer than outside.
Finn slowly made his way up the stairs to the third floor, a bit worn out from work. It felt like he was the only one home. He could do with a little peace and quiet.
When he reached the top of the stairs on the third floor, he stopped. Sullivan's apartment door was wide open, and the lights were turned off.
What the hell...?
Finn approached the doorway cautiously and looked inside. He couldn't see much. He felt for the lightswitch on the wall, turning it on.
The apartment was a mess. Chairs toppled, the couch on its side, the rug askew. Sullivan himself was out on the floor, face down. Finn panicked, and ran to check on him. Sullivan reeked of alcohol, but was otherwise fine.
"Did he do this...?" Finn asked himself.
"What the fuck are you doing here..." Sullivan mumbled as he started to wake.
"Your door was open and the lights were out," Finn said. Sullivan seemed to be out again.
Shit. What do I do? This place is a goddamn mess.
Finn stood up and looked around. He seriously wrecked this place.
As much as I hate to say it, it would probably be easier if I just brought him over to my place...
Finn checked Sullivan's pockets to see if he had his keys on him. Good, I don't have to find those. He grabbed Sullivan's arm and picked him up, locking and shutting the door behind him.
I'm gonna hate dealing with this, tomorrow.
Wayward Twitter sketches - Collecting some of the rough sketches I've shared on Twitter for Wayward(Ongoing personal project)
1 week ago