It never has gotten cold enough, in the years he has lived there, for snow to be present in much more than thought but the nights did get cold enough that he could appreciate nestling along his new couch with a blanket and the fireplace crackling lightly just a few feet away from him.
The insulation wasn’t done quite properly yet in the walls of his new home and while he was more than aware he could have stayed in his old apartment until all had been done to completion, he couldn’t have handled another day with his old landlady, she had been driving him batty, so the thought of moving out and into a mostly, but not quite, finished new house where he only had to answer to himself, had sounded wonderful.
It was cool outside but with the fire and the blanket, he was just cozy, warm and comfortable. He couldn’t really want to ask for more, it would have been foolish. His life was far from perfect and he wasn’t looking for perfect, all he wanted was quietness and maybe, eventually, company. Yael had refused his last invitation but he figured that it wouldn’t be much longer until the slightly younger man was a presence, if not at his side, then in his home. The place was more than large enough to accommodate the two of them comfortably in such a way that they most likely wouldn’t even have to see one another on a daily basis.
It wasn’t the best of plans but it was a starting point and Quentin was aware of that just the same as he was aware of the rest of his life as it was slowly coming to settle in a way that was almost comfortable. Up until recently he hadn’t wanted any kind of closeness with anyone, he hadn’t dared imagine that humans wouldn’t find him guilty of hiding away who he was and some other nonsense he didn’t want to think about. Yael was different in that they were the same. Different kind of ‘same’ but still the same, in the long run.
For now, as he mused over eventual (perhaps!) companionship, Quentin merely closed his eyes, nestling down into the plush comfort of the new couch. It was just one of those things that he could call his own, something he had paid with his hard earned money and it was one of the most comfortable spots in his surroundings just now. He could have slept there, if it hadn’t been for the sound of the wind whistling softly through one of the windows he knew needed fixed up before he could go anywhere with it at all.
The sound was just enough of a nag to keep him from sleeping where he was, despite drowsiness, warmth and contentment. He needed quiet and peace to be able to rest properly and this was just one of those things that would keep him awake. For now however, he was still too content with his life as a whole to really want to go anywhere, to want to budge from his spot. Once exhaustion really crept in and the window kept him awake, should it in the long run, he would see about moving himself from where he was now, dragging his blankets along, to head off to the other end of the building where his room eventually would be.
For the time being, all it was, was a large room with a hammock hanging from the ceiling but it was comfortable just the same, it just wasn’t as warm as the spot he was at, at that point and that just made it a less appealing area. Had Yael been there, perhaps the young artist would have been able to convince him that the comfort of a mock-real bed with no whistling window was better than that of a couch, fireplace and blanket (and nagging window whistle!) but alas, Quentin was still quite woefully by himself and there was not a soul about to convince him to move so he wouldn’t.
Perhaps he’d even lose sleep over it though it seemed unlikely. He wasn’t quite so foolish as to let himself fall into a lack of sleep because a particular room was a few degrees warmer than the rest of the place. In time, he knew himself well enough for that, he would move but for now, it just wasn’t happening.
It was as he listened to the crackling of the fireplace that he felt his lashes begin to finally dip and fall over his eyes. Of course the wind still was having a ball outside, being loud and whistling its way inside but it had faded into the background of Quentin’s worn mind. He couldn’t recall just what he had done recently that had left him actually willing to doze with such an annoying background noise but the exhaustion was all there and he drifted off.
When he woke again, he realized he hadn’t budged. He’d actually slept in the living room, the fire was long dead—though perhaps not that long as the room still was mostly warm—and the wind was still whistling though it was a much quieter sound. Perhaps whatever storm had been about to come and bury them whole (he couldn’t recall last it had snowed enough for that in the years he’d lived in the city) had come to pass. Perhaps that was why the place felt still as warm as it was now.
He eased to his feet, stretching the stiffness out of his muscles as he yawned and walked towards one of the windows. The floor was colder than he had wanted it to be, it left him shivering as he paused by the window and looked outside, past the glass and saw nothing that would explain all the whistling he’d heard. At least not in terms of snow. There was nothing out there, not even hints of snow. There was some frost but it would be gone before long. As soon as the sun would warm slightly it would be no more.
Moving away from the window, he went back to the couch and merely flopped again with another wide yawn. He still was tired, it was strange. He hadn’t had many good nights of sleep recently, his old landlady had nagged him almost incessantly about something or other. He was just glad he’d found someone else to take the apartment but he felt bad for Eoghan. He just hoped the guy had more patience than him. It would take a world of it to handle the cranky old woman.