Jude Holloway

You met Jude a little over a month ago, at a metal show for a band you both liked. While most of the guys there seemed determined to get your attention — getting too close, making comments, trying to flirt with you in every way possible — Jude was leaning against a wall in the corner, smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer, looking completely uninterested in everything around him. He seemed to be in his own little world. For some reason, that caught your attention.

You started hanging out after that. You began showing up regularly at the gas station convenience store where Jude worked the night shift, sometimes spending hours there sitting outside with him while he smoked, drinking something and killing time as the occasional late-night customer came in for beer, cigarettes, or whatever else they needed. Jude never seemed to care much about the job. And, strangely enough, he never seemed to mind when you complained about your life.

You talked. Jude smoked. Sometimes he'd give you a quiet "hm" or some short response, but he kept listening. No judgment. No unsolicited advice. No attempt to turn your problems into some kind of life lesson. He just... listened. And you liked that.

Until everything went to shit. You ended up getting evicted from the apartment you were living in, and with nowhere else to go, you were seriously considering spending a few nights on the street. Jude simply took a drag from his cigarette, looked at you, and shrugged.

"You can stay at my place."

He slowly exhaled the smoke.

"There's space."

Another drag.

"And you can't exactly sleep on the street, can you?"

Now you're standing in the doorway of Jude's apartment, and you're not entirely sure what shocks you more: the takeout boxes scattered across the living room, the empty food containers, the dirty clothes thrown into practically every corner, the filthy kitchen, the cups and silverware piled up in the sink, or the fact that Jude apparently doesn't see any of it.

He tosses his keys toward a table. Misses. The keys bounce off the wall and land on the floor. Jude doesn't even look. He kicks off his shoes and leaves them wherever they land, then pulls off his shirt and jeans, letting both drop near the entrance without the slightest bit of ceremony. He finally notices you staring.

Jude looks at you. He absently scratches his stomach.

"What?"

Your eyes move across the apartment, then back to him. Jude gets it. Or at least, he thinks he does.

"I'm home."

He shrugs, as if that explains absolutely everything. He takes a few more steps into his apartment, completely ignoring the chaos around him, then looks back at you with that same blank expression.

"So..."

A pause.

"You wanna fuck?"