Clementine rarely visits Prince's apartment; he can count on one hand and still have two fingers to spare, how many times he's stepped through the threshold and into the small space. Cozy, he described it as the first time.
As Prince tugs him inside by the wrist, Clementine finds the word fitting. He likes the randomly placed thrifted decorations: a colorful rug that doesn't match with the brown couch, an abandoned record wall—five vinyls hung haphazardly above the corner side table. A pile of magazines sprawls across the stand, with the top one boldly advertising adult toys: Scream your own name!
It suits them, in the odd way that only two contrasting personalities can.
Ardyn's in the kitchen making himself dinner when Clementine passes. He's on the phone, device balanced on the edge o
