Make It Crazy Tiny

As comfortable as Trine's tiny apartment getaway was, there were some things about it that just seemed to ruin all the charm. One of those things was the lack of blinds on the two tall windows that sat on either side of the entertainment center. Gilbert wasn't too sure why the two biggest windows in the whole place were the only ones left without any decoration, but it had been just his luck that his nice spot on the couch would be compromised by something like shadeless windows. He found out the hard way that this particular wall faced east and the sun had a perfect angle to shine right in his eyes as it began to peak it's glowing face over the tops of the quaint suburbia he found himself situated in.

It was nothing like back home, he mused to himself, turning on his back to stare at the ceiling while a LaFee song drifted through his ears, heard, but not listened to. Ludwig had seen fit to perch himself in the city, at the belly of the whale.

"It's close to the corporation," he'd justify and Gilbert would just shrug. It wasn't like he needed to verify where he'd decided to live. It was clear enough to Gilbert that his brother made more in his first year of college than Gilbert himself had ever hoped to make in his life, and thus could afford to live like that. Gilbert drank in city life like he could press a straw into it like those old Tropicana commercials. The neon lights were like his sunrise, and many a night was spent blowing the allowance owed to him by the government because he was a poor, grieving soul. Gilbert didn't like to think over the reason why they saw fit to shove a decent amount of spending money in his hands every month. It hurt everything when it came to that. Some of the people in the anger management class said that sort of feeling was in their chest-- or in their stomachs, but Gilbert felt it everywhere. It all hurt.

The city smelled like sewage when you stepped off certain sidewalks. The city smelt like dirt in certain alleys. People carried hand sanitizer with them on the subway he took back home, no one used water fountains, and that was fine with him. But here? This little cloister of quaint houses with yellow siding and green doors was clean. It smelt like freshly cut grass and barbecues.

-

There were no neon lights streaking by when he sat in the passenger seat of Ludwig's car, idly tracing the tortoise shell that lined most of the inside surfaces, interrupted now and then by a sleek silver vent, or the tiny port that let him play his iPod through the car speakers (Whoever thought that up was genius really.).

It was silent for the four seconds of white noise as the music switched from one song to another, and all he could hear was the small squeak of his brother's driving gloves against the leather of the steering wheel. Most times, he just hit the next button, but he could see Ludwig's eyes flash in his direction every time he leaned forward in his seat to do so. He'd stopped after the fifth time and decided to stare out the window, and get a good feel for his new home.

"How boring. I didn't know she lived on a cul-de-sac in the middle of f*cking Stepford."

"The whole house is hers?" Ludwig finally spoke up after a two hour drive. It sounded terribly awkward, considering the silence had made it feel more like he'd been a parent driving his kid home after a long talk with the school principle.

"No, just the top."

"What does she do?"

Gilbert was silent for a minute shooting a look as if to say, 'Why does that matter?'

“She’s still working through college…some sports crap I don’t know anything about. She works at some coffee place called “The Bean.” I think. All I know is that girls can seriously rock those uniforms."

"Maybe she can help you get a job there."

"Maybe." He let a huff of air shift through his teeth before he'd opened the door of the car, once it came to a full stop along the sidewalk at the front of a yellow house with green shutters and white trimming. Instantly, the car chimed in with a suave 'The door is ajar.'

Normally, they'd make fun of how his car had an accent like some could-be posh british woman, but the jokes didn't come easy this time. Instead, Ludwig shifted his hands on the wheel with a look in his eyes like he had something to say, but couldn't bring himself to talk first. Gilbert sat still in the seat of the car, his hands still holding onto the door handle, the car continuing to chime, 'The door is ajar.'

It sounded as if the alarm were hurrying Gilbert out. Ludwig opened his mouth, but no sound came out, and Gilbert ducked out of the car with a loud laugh.

"You seriously need to get yourself a new car. Or at least one that doesn't have such an attitude!"

His brother's face fell into a sad smile and he gave a small laugh, patting a gloved hand against the cove that read off his milage, speed, gear, and amount of gas left, in tiny white numerals that lit up a digital screen.

"I'm kind of attached to her now. I don't know if I could do that."

"You need to get out in the world and make some friends bro," he grinned leaning in to pluck his iPod off of the dock and grab the duffle bag that had been sitting at his feet. "Thanks for the ride."

"It's nothing. If you need anything..."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll come calling for my baby brother. Have some faith! I'll be fine!"

"You will be." He smiled and Gilbert shut the door.

The elder brother stepped around the front of the car and waved before trying his best to slide across the hood of the it, but only managed to hurt his hip. The look on his brothers face was something to make him bark out a laugh. Ludwig's eyes were snapped open wide, and his mouth hung like Gilbert had done something ludicrous. He could have taken a flame thrower to the thing and he was sure Ludwig would have the same look.

-

"Late, I'm late!"

Gilbert was drawn away from his pondering by Lenox, hopping out of her room with one leg into her dress slacks and the other trying to worm it's way in on it's own. The german pushed himself further up the couch with his toes, leaning over the arm that rested in the curve of his lower back, and watched as his roommate wobbled around. He didn't say anything at first, just tried his best to hold in a laugh as the italian tried to steady herself on the coat rack screwed into the wall next to the door, and only managed to buy herself a few seconds of stability before she half crashed to the wood floor.

"I could have sworn I set my alarm..." he could hear her murmur, before gold eyes turned their attention to the new addition currently hanging over the couch like a tossed coat. “Sleeping, you lazy sack of sh*t?"

Gilbert jerked a thumb over to the windows that had been his undoing this morning, watching as Lenox fastened the buttons of her pants and haphazardly tucked in the white button down, all the while never getting up from her spot on the floor. It had been like watching an acrobat, only much less coordinated, and a bit spastic considering she had only been getting dressed and not pulling off some sort of drastic stunt.

"Nah, the sun got me. Looks like I'm going to be a morning person from now on."

“Oh yeah, the blinds." She squirmed onto her feet, snatching a sweatshirt off of the very rack she'd attempted to use as a way to keep her balance, and shucked her feet into a pair of dress shoes set next to the right of door. “Sucks for you, cazzo~"

"Aren't you late?"

She continued to say something as she stepped out of the door, but Gilbert couldn't hear much. There was a long string of italian as he listened to her make her way down the stairs outside, and then even more as she made her way back up. Gilbert watched as the front door clicked open and Lenox shot him an almost accusatory look verifying, "Forgot my backpack." as she slipped across the apartment, to the pink backpack laid at the end of the island counter, and back out again.

He snorted, a lazy smile on his face as he squirmed his way back onto the couch, turning on his side so he wasn't facing the windows, and tried to sleep. It didn't work. Most often, it never did. There was something in his blood that made it law that once he had been woken up, and the sun was out, there was no going back to bed.

Gilbert gave an over dramatic sigh and rolled off of the couch. Dark eyes slid around the apartment that, for one reason or another, looked as if it were different when all of the artificial lighting was gone. It looked brighter, but that was expected when the sun acted as your primary light source. He slunk to the kitchen, not bothering to lift his feet, but instead skated across the polished wood floor on his socks all the way to the fridge.

It wasn't that he was actually hungry yet, it was just habit to eat right after he'd gotten up. A pale hand yanked the fridge open, the pop of the sealant echoing through the empty space. Cooking was not something he felt like doing-- in fact, most times, he let Ludwig cook whenever he felt like it, and when he didn't, Gilbert just settled for bread, or crackers and cheese. He was a no-frills eater, really.

"God, I could go for some cereal. Milk, milk, where are you milk..." he grumbled, shifting his weight onto one leg and itching the back of his calf with his free foot, "What the hell is this? Soy milk. Trine, you hippie f*ck! You don't even own real milk!?"

The fridge door slammed shut, and Gilbert chose to push the idea of putting milk in his cereal aside. Maybe he could eat it dry. He'd do that before he poured some sort of rabbit food over his breakfast cereal. After one or two tries, he'd finally found the cereal cabinet, that was more or less abandoned other than an old box of rice puffs and what looked like it could have been Kix, but it was hard to tell with all of the holes in the box. He'd leave that one alone for now, deciding to snatch up the box of rice puffs that had the fortune of not being massacred by what looked like a five year old with a pair of scissors.

For a second or two he starred at the box in his hands before catching a glimpse of a forgotten bottle of soda settled on the floor next to the fridge. Trine never liked soda, so he had to guess that it must have been left over from a party, or was requested by someone else that stayed a night or two. Gilbert didn't care much whose soda it was, but it would now be his aid for fulfilling breakfast.

Without a second thought, he unscrewed the cap and poured the soda straight into the plastic bag that housed the puffs.

By the time Gilbert had worked away half of the saturated rice puffs, the click of a bedroom door set his ears to attention. He kept his eyes on the television, watching the reflection of the living room on the screen to see what it was, exactly, that was going on behind him. It was Trine this time, shuffling past the back of the couch as if the German weren't there. Those blue eyes were squinted, along with a wrinkled nose like she'd smelt something terrible. Long fingers brushed through the tangle of blonde hair as she turned to make her way to the kitchen, but froze turning to look at the back of Gilbert's head. He just watched her reflection instead of turning to face her.

"What are you eating? That smells like sh*t," she piped up, voice still rough with sleep.

"Cola and rice puffs. The breakfast of champions," came Gilbert's smooth reply. He shot a grin over his shoulder, stuffing a spoonful of ugly, browned puffs into his mouth. He groaned through the mouth full, making a real show of chewing, even if they didn't require much chewing at all, before swallowing. Trine just watched him like she'd been watching the guy tear a human being apart with his bare teeth. Her lip curled up at the corner, pushing up a deep wrinkle along the side of her nose, obscuring a tiny freckle that Gilbert hadn't noticed before.

"That's a freaking food abomination."

"Oh, come on now! The fizz makes just the right consistency."

"I'm going to punch you in the back of the head." Trine began moving around the side of the couch and dropping down on the seat opposite Gilbert. "I can't believe you're eating that, dude."

Gilbert grinned, holding a spoon out to her.

"Try it."

"No."

"Do it."

“Hell no."

"Come oooon," he whined, leaning over to push the spoon against Trine's lips that were closed so tight they'd begun to turn white. "Open up~"

She smacked the spoon right out of his hands and spit out a quick. “Not in a million years!"

They watched as the two swollen rice puffs hit the floor at the foot of the couch with a stomach turning splash. Blue eyes slid from the mess on the floor to the man on her left as if to say and you were eating that, you sick bastard. Gilbert only returned the stare with a sheepish smile, shrugging his shoulder, even if his own lip had started to curl. Food took on a whole new identity when it hit the floor with a sound that just couldn't be placed in any particular category other than…

"...Nasty...."

"Yeah, well, it tastes good."

Gilbert shrugged and leaned over the side of the couch, leaving the box of cereal to hang in his hand while it's brother searched around for the remote he'd discarded earlier on that night. When his middle finger skimmed the smooth, rounded plastic of the remote he smiled, victorious in a small way, and pulled it closer, turning on the television. A recorded match from WWG started up where Trine had left off in her endless effort to try and get as much information on the people she’d eventually face in the ring. For a moment the two roommates paused in their small cereal spat, watching as a dark haired women, stood at the top of the ramp, full lips pushed out in what, to anyone else, would look like a theatrical pout. Her voice pleaded through the television’s small speakers.

No, No...you can't do this. I just got a match with you booked for next week and your taking a leave? Why do you keep doing this Christian? Why?

“Hey! That’s the chick I got matched with!” Trine perked up, jerking a thumb in the direction of the television.

“She’s hot,” Gilbert started.

Why? You never acknowledge me, Why! No matter what I do!
Rayven has snapped!

And he finished with a wary “...And seriously **** crazy….”

Trine let out a long groan of dismay, dragging her hands down either side of her face as she reluctanty watched as Rayven continued to land blows to the larger man’s neck.

“It figures I end up versing the freaking 'Girl Interrupted' in my first match.”

Gilbert laughed, stretching his arm across the couch to playfully nudge his friend with the box of soggy cereal.

“Pssh, Good luck with that piece of work."

There was a low grumble from Trine as she pushed herself further against the arm of the couch, keeping an eye on the cereal threatening to spill over the side of the box.

"Don't spill that on me, I will seriously flip out.” She warned tucking her feet up underneath her.

Dark eyes moved from the television screen, to the box swaying in his hand, and then finally to the worried look slapped across Trine’s face. A grin split Gilbert's lips.

"What's this? What's wrong? Don't want to get sticky?"

Leaning closer to the blonde on the couch, Gilbert wiggled the box around in his hand, only to have it shoved back against him. He felt a quick squirm in his chest, something like panic, but he couldn't imagine why there would be a need to panic over spilled milk-- or cola. They stayed that way; Trine, with her eyebrows furrowed so close they were almost twisted together, and Gilbert with a blank, wide eyed expression.

"H-hey," his voice sounded strange, even to his own ears, but he bit back the shake there and continued, "you're gonna knee me in the balls or something…aren’t you..."

A strange feeling inside of Gilbert's chest seemed to stir as an almost feral smirk tugged at the blonde's lips, pinching her eyes up into near slits as she leaned forward and hissed, "I'll f*cking kick them up into your throat if you try spilling that crap on me again," before moving to get up from the couch. Gilbert watched her back as Trine shuffled past the coffee table.

"You, uh, got a little-"

"Huh? A what?”

"You spilled your nasty cereal all over your lap, crackhead.” She laughed.

"Oh," he stated dumbly, moving his hand to asses the damage. "Oh f*ck! It's all over the couch!"

Trine let out a laugh, making her way back into the bedroom with the heels of her hands pressed into her eyes.

“Karmaaa!"

"You're not going to help?"

"Do I look like your mom? I have to go in an hour, anyway..."

Gilbert blinked down at his lap, now sodden in sticky cola and bloated cereal grain, before shooting a confused look to the bedroom door that still hung open, allowing him to see Trine nearly tearing through the drawers of the old oak dresser. There was a colored window just above it painting the room in yellows, blues, and the pure white of sunshine in neat sections, a speckle of color here or there managing to dance along her face as she continued to rummage.

"...Go?"

The idea that he'd be alone, left in a house that wasn't his, on the couch of someone accomplishing more than himself had not set in. The fact that just because he was moving in didn't mean that everyone else's life stopped to accompany him had seemed to weigh heavy on his shoulders. This seemed like a new start, but in fact all it was was the continuation of the cycle he'd started- the same continuos decaying he hoped to ignore long enough that it would just give up trying to get his attention.

“Yeah, I actually try to do something with myself, other than bum off other people.” She joked.

"Oh, you wound me," he laughed, placing a sticky hand over his heart, "I'm going to take a shower, don't miss me too much while we're apart."

It was ten minutes or so later, just when Gilbert had gotten around to shampooing his hair, that he could hear Trine’s voice over the droplets of water colliding with the decorated spanish tiles on the floor of the shower, high and almost hysteric.

"YOU SONOFFA- YOU DIDN'T CLEAN UP THE COUCH!"

He laughed to himself enjoying the way it seemed to echo back to him in the empty bathroom.

That was until he heard the loud crack of the door handle slamming into the wall of the bathroom, followed by the squeak of sneakers against tile and an almost manic giggle coming from the intruder reached his ears. Gilbert panicked, trying his best to rub the fog off of the glass shower door fast enough to at least prepare for whatever it was that was coming his way, but it was too late.

“GOTCHA!” The laugh echoed, bouncing against the walls of the steamy bathroom long after Trine had hoisted a plastic laundry bin full of ice and water over the top of the shower.

There stood her newly acquired roommate, half curled into himself, frozen in shock or maybe it was just his body’s way of trying to process the extreme change in temperature he’d just experienced.

“H-h-holy sh*t.” he gasped.

The squeak of sneakers started to retreat, making their way to the bathroom door before pausing for a moment. Gilbert subconsciously cowered further into himself, preparing for round two of Tine’s revenge.

“Oh, I’ve got a match today! So, I’ll see you once I get home tonight. I demand a round of celebratory online GTA5.”

Slowly, cautiously, the German straightened up holding his hands in front of himself in an attempt to remain decent. God only knew what the blonde could see from her position at the door.

“Actually…I think Lenox is dragging me on her student activities group..something or other for camping tonight.”

“Oh! That’s cool! It’s actually a lot of fun if you can get Lenox to stop screaming,” she laughed, “Good luck, she hates nature.”

Trine grinned at the low grumble of disappointment that slipped past the bathroom door. If he was under the impression that it was going to be a lot of beer around a campfire he had another thing coming. The last time she and Lenox attempted the annual college camping trip Lenox had locked herself in the car because she swore on her life that flies had swarm mentality and have been documented to eat cute italian girls alive. Trine still had a great time and the fact that her friend had fallen asleep in the car, shortly after barricading herself inside, left her the perfect opportunity to rally up some fellow campers to help push the car into another section of the woods.

Lenox wasn’t pleased when she woke up.

Trine turned around, taking a hold of the fogged gold door knob, only to come face to face with the smooth shiny lens of a camera. She screamed, a fist instinctually snapping up from her side, and colliding with the side of the camera with a dull thud. A panicked inquiry from Gilbert echoed from the bathroom. The camera man stumbled backwards, managing to record little more than a look of panic on the blonde’s face before it quickly shifted (directed by Trine’s punch) to the wood floor, and slowly wavering back up again with a groan from the operator.

“Wait. You guys are the WWG camera guys?” came the blonde’s voice from off screen, the camera now picking up a fellow crew member inspecting the lens for damage. “Don’t you guys…I don’t know…knock? Don’t worry Gilbert! It’s camera guys!”

“Is your face okay?” She was back in the frame again, but peering around the side of the camera.

Gilbert’s voice echoed from bathroom again, lost in the steam rolling out between the half open door and the white molding along the door frame.

“Hey! If they sensor my junk out tell them to make the bar really huge.”

Trine laughed, before turning to the camera and making a silent gesture with her fingers, mouthing a silent. Make it crazy tiny.

Jackson Green piped up finally, a small laugh evident in his voice.

“So, how are you feeling about your debut match against Rayven?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but Gilbert interrupted, the camera man turning his attention back to the fogged bathroom.

“Are they asking about the crazy chick!? Girl Interrupted!? Don’t say anything mean! She’ll probably rip your head off and lay eggs in your stomach!."

Trine stood half frozen for a moment, starring at the interviewer with an almost panicked look slapped across her face before violently slamming the bathroom door closed. The camera man jostled, not expecting to be met with a view of a closed door so close to the end of the camera’s lens. He panned up from the door and back to Trine who had been biting her lip in concentration, trying her best to fish out some way to get herself out the hole her roommate possibly just dug for her.

“Um…” thin fingers ran through long blonde hair, pushing it back from her face as she let out a long breath, “I doubt she lays eggs?”

An awkward smile.

“I mean…I’ve been training like crazy. Watching everyone’s old matches. I made a dry erase board…thing…with everyone’s stats on it.”

The camera followed from Trine’s finger to the large white board that had been push-pinned into the wall just to the crew’s left. They paused there for a moment and she watched silently as a few of the crew members squinted, tilting their heads to the side in an attempt to have whatever sort of system she’d figured out to make sense to them. It was a sharp contrast of white and black dry erase marker against the bright yellow walls of her living room, painted by the now fully risen morning sun.

There were a list of names at the top, although none of them corresponded with the names of already known wrestler in the WWG.

The first name was: "Grumpy Cat.” under that in smaller writing was a list of describers for this apparent wrestler.

“From Japan.”
“Makes an awesome grumpy cat face”
“Beat Lucky Charms…like seriously.”

Second: “Thumbelina:”

“From South Africa”
“Kicks serious ass.”
“Note: Look up “Zef”? “

Third: “Jolly Green:”

“Huge, beastly dude”
“Seems nice”
“Friends with Double-D.”

Fourth: “Texas Chainsaw:”

“Pretty sure he wears peoples faces…”
“Grace- got kissed by Keith Urban last time. ”
“Scary guy."

The camera’s focused in on the Fifth name, familiar this time.

“Girl Interrupted”

“….holy sh*t….”
“Obsessive"

When the crew turns back to Trine, she shrugs clearly not used to the attention of a camera crew or how exactly to react to the attention.

“I mean, I could trash talk all day long, but it won’t make me a better wrestler. So, the best I can do is hope I trained hard enough to get through this one a winner,” a pause, “or like at least…not a pair of boots or something creepy….”

With that being said there was a moment or two of silence before she straightened up, almost as if remembering something incredibly important, and without saying a word a small hand grabbed the front of the camera and pushed it away. The only thing heard off screen was an over dramatic. “So there!” from Trine.

Her tone quickly changed from an overly masculine pea cocking tone to a worried inquiry as the camera man seemed to stumble again, recording the back of the white leather couch, a side table, and then the wooden panels of the floor for a second time.

“Oh crap, sorry man. I just always see people pushing the camera away..or hitting…so I just thought that’s what we do…Did I get your eye again?”

And with that the recording flicked off to black.