“As long as it isn't black and white,” I replied, trying to push away the intruding memory.
“Your loss,” he shrugged, shutting the cupboard and turning around to face me again. He paused for a moment staring at me. He turned away quickly, but I saw the smile on his lips. Why did he have to be a vampire? I found myself wishing he was a human or a werewolf. Something else, so these feelings were acceptable. At least he had a bookshelf of DVDs, not a cabinet. Less likely to have a repeat that way.
“Are these really all the DVDs you have?” I asked, looking at the thin bookshelf.
“No. I also have a lot more books, but they're stored elsewhere,” he shrugged.
“You have an attic here filled with boxes then?” I asked.
“No, I own the next door flat as well,” he said. I felt my mouth drop open a little. “You look a little funny,” he said when he turned and saw it. I snapped my mouth shut fast.
“You own two flats … and you use one as a storage space. A whole flat,” I said.
“So?” he asked.
“Why not just buy one of those storage crate things instead?” I asked.
“They're not big enough,” he replied. I blinked, how much stuff did he have? Here I was thinking he was minimalist as well.
“Can I see it?” I asked, standing up from the sofa. William hesitated, I think its the first time I've really seen him do it. He dropped whatever DVD he had picked on the table and left the living room. I followed, probably a little too eagerly. Luckily there was an awning overhead, so no rain fell on us. Though it was still falling as heavily as earlier. I wondered if there was flooding anywhere. He unlocked the door and we walked inside. He hit the light of the hallway and I blinked. Dust moved in lazy swirls and everywhere I looked was boxes. William walked past a load of them stacked against the hallway wall without a word. Inside the living room it was more. Most where plain cardboard box, but I swore there were some old-fashioned chests hidden under the piles.
“Is there any referencing for this place?” I joked.
“Nope,” William replied.
“Then how do you find anything?” I asked, moving deeper into the room and lifting the lid of a random box. William's slapped my hand away lightly before I could see the contents and walked past me. I shot him a mini glare and glanced back at the box.
“I remember where it all is,” he said. I decided against trying to look a second time. Something told me he'd know. “Or trail and error,” he added, shrugging. I walked over to where he was moving boxes. I couldn't help noticing how he was careful moving some, but not others. I think I might've heard something break as well, but he didn't seem bothered.
“How much stuff is in here?” I asked, having a feeling the other rooms were going to be just as bad. I moved past William and saw a mental shelf ahead. Old leather-bound books looking at me. I peaked over my shoulder, but he was still busy looking for whatever it was he was looking for. I took a book and let it open at a random page. I blinked at the unintelligible words, wondering what language they were, then put it back.
“Not a lot, considering,” William murmured, his mind only half-focussed on our conversation.
“Considering what?” I asked, continuing to look around. I peered over a short row of boxes and saw paintings behind them. They were in hand-carved wooden frame. I carefully reached over the boxes and picked up a smaller picture. Shooting a glance at William first, but he didn't say or do anything to stop me. I began to wonder if he was even aware of what I was doing now. I could always try the earlier box to test the theory. I blew dust off the picture and blinked. It was a painting of the northern lights over a frozen lake. Bare trees surrounded the area and in the distance were snow covered mountains. The colours were a mix of whites, black and teal hues. It was eerily beautiful. I tried to find a signature to say who painted it, but there wasn't one.
“I didn't realise you liked art. Thought you were just photos,” William said, a lot closer than he'd been before. I couldn't help a little jump. Before I'd had a chance to recover he'd reached over and took the painting out of my hands. I glanced right up and there he was. Sometimes being short was really annoying.