>>5527075The moment she opened the door to her apartment, you were assaulted by the heavy smell of grapes and alcohol. You could see various bottles of wine lying around the room, some half finished.
“It’s a bit messy but make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right with you, yes.”
She disappears into another room, shutting the door behind her. Being careful not to knock anything lying around, you move to sit on the bed. The room wasn’t too shabby, and most of the furniture was colored in some shade of black, giving it all a somewhat gothic aesthetic. You lay back on the bed while waiting for her to come back, and realize you’re no longer wearing a hat. You quickly rummage through your grocery bag and pull out the bowler hat you had bought earlier. Calli returns as you put it on.
“Oh, nice hat.”
“Thanks.”
She had returned wearing a different set of clothes and with a wine bottle in hand. She was now wearing a black and red tracksuit, with it’s jacket open to reveal a white shirt with a skull printed on. She was still wearing the hat, and once again, you felt your heart skip a beat. There was something to it, and it wasn’t just your imagination anymore. Even the way she had tied up her hair into a ponytail, there was a sense of rightness to it, like it was meant to be.
“It isn’t much but this is the most expensive bottle I’ve got… Or rather, it’s the only one,” she mutters towards the end.
She moves a table to the front of the bed, and places the bottle and a couple of wine glasses onto it. Pulling up a chair, she sits opposite to you.
“Anyways, you said you were a soldier, right? What’s that like?”
“I kill maggots.”
“... R-right, of course, that's what soldiers do, haha. I um- you already know I work at Applebees- But I also do some other stuff.”
“Like working as a model?”
“No no no, no way am I qualified for that. I compose music and sing, like rap and stuff. Oh, right, I’ll put on some music. What kind do you prefer?”
“AMERICAN music.”
“I-I see, but I don’t think I have anything like that.”
“Is rap American?”
“Um, maybe? I guess it's kind of-”
“Then sing some rap.”
She looks away, taking a sip from her glass, contemplating.
“Naah, I’m not that good. I’ll just put up some rap on the player if you really want to hear it.”
“I want to hear you sing it,” you look at her with determination in your eyes.
“Guh, well, I-I guess I'll have to. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She booted up a speaker to play some background music, and started rapping. You were instantly mesmerized. By the hat. It was a perfect fit. It fit her in a way it could never fit you. Her personality, the way she walked, the way she talked, the way she rapped and even the clothes she wore. They were all a match made in heaven for this simple looking, black cap. It was in it’s own personal Nirwana, and in those few minutes, you wished you were the hat.
After she finishes rapping, she sits down beside you on the bed. Her eyes dart around the room as she sips from her glass. You grab her free hand with both of yours and squeeze them.
“That was perfect, you have great potential!” You say with absolute confidence.
“... You mean it?”
“Affirmative.”
‘... Thanks, and uh, thanks for listening. Sorry, I was just a bit nervous there. It’s a dream of mine to eventually become a proper rapper... even though I haven’t really sung to anyone other than myself… And my boyfriend, but he doesn’t really get rap, or music.”
“Then he’s a fool.”
“I wouldn’t go that far… He just doesn’t really talk much…” She pulls out her phone and hands it to you, “It’s a picture of us at a concert.”
The man beside her seemed mostly normal- with the exception of the gas mask he was wearing, which completely obscured his face.
“He got caught up in a fire when he was younger, and it burnt off most of his face. Even though he can’t talk, we still communicate through text… But lately he’s been getting more distant. I know I’m not being fair to him, but I just wish he was more clear with what he wanted. Or how he even feels about me…”
Her voice cracks as she stops talking, and she tears up. You aren’t sure how to handle this. Was this your fault? Maybe you should give her another- Your train of thought is interrupted as she looks up and plants her lips onto yours. Her soft embrace leaves you momentarily stunned. Her breathing is ragged as she pulls away.
“Wait, hold on. You already have a boyfriend, and as a compatriot I cannot-”
“It’s… It’s fine-”
And before you can say ‘No it’s not,’ she locks lips with you again and pushes you down on the bed. With such a fine work of art on top of you, you’re not sure your patriotism can hold you back anymore.
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