“God damn it, the bloody hot water isn’t running!”, Cay shouted from the gap of the ajar shower door.
“Have you tried turning both of the knobs?”, Judas suggested while unpacking on the flimsy roundtable.
“Yes, could you see if you can do anything about the boiler?”, Cay sounded freezing cold.
Judas checked the boiler. From what his untrained eyes had observed, he confirmed to Cay that there were no issues with the boiler (“It looks ok to me!”, Judas shouted back.). The switches had already been turned towards the “on” symbol before they came to the apartment, and the pipes running through it were not restrained in any way. He simply could not understand enough to be of Cay’s help. The latter was frustrated and just stepped into the shower, whom which projected piercing icy water directly onto his skin.
It took nearly ten minutes for him to finish cleaning himself: He had been jumping in and away from the isolated rain of coldness, unsure if he could continue the torment. Judas had a look of reluctance as Cay opened the door, revealing his shivering figure. His face was pale from the minutes of chilly water running across his body but looked somehow more awake than before the shower. Judas had a cup of Irish cream coffee ready for his freezing companion, knowing that the packets of instant coffee he bought would be useful in times like this. Thank goodness there was a kettle to boil water, Judas relieved himself.
“Remind me to call Suju later about this nonsense.”, Cay took a large sip from the piping hot coffee.
“In the meantime, I’ll pass.”, Judas said, his eyes slowly moved to the direction of the shower.
“I’m sure the people in the dorm are far better off than us right now.”, Cay muttered.
They went out as soon as they had some snacks that Judas had packed while in Rome. Instead of listening to Suju’s instruction, they went to the Arsenale, an attraction within walking distance (Cay found it on his phone’s GPS).
They sat on the stone stairs of the arched-bridge that was opposite to the military dock, the only way they could see what it comprised of was through looking the opening between two pointy watchtowers, or whatever purpose those two slim structures had served before. The once-shipyard and weapons production area were still of military value, strategically. They occasionally saw personnel with white navy uniforms crossing a small wooden bridge from either end and took note of the attraction’s long existence since before the Napoleon war.
Still, their hunger was not satisfied by mere stale pancetta and cheap dried-meat, Judas offered to buy some food from the café nearby. The two had the procured vegetarian flatbreads later and stayed for a while before the sun began to position itself at the highest point. Remembering the heat from Roma, the two went inside the naval museum near the Arsenale.
The museum was not big but had just enough space to contain several small to medium fishing boats, a rare water transport in which it’s siblings were destroyed by Napoleon’s army, parts of ships, some miscellaneous objects that could be found in docks, and a pre-World-War one mini destroyer. It was a quick tour for the two as most of the information signs displayed beside each antique were in Italian.
With the recently acquired energy from a couple of freshly-toasted flatbreads, both risked long exposure to the heating Venetian sun and walked towards the coast. Perhaps there would be a picturesque scenery there. A hot sun usually accommodated busy docks and beaches as well. There were no objections about it from anyone they had met before. To Cay, perspiration helped to empty the unfavoured memories in Rome.
*
The reason why Jenna wanted Cay was not entirely for sex. In fact, that was the least out of everything. His subtle niceties such as his genuine worries and clinginess were always the best quality a woman could find in a man, at least to Jenna’s mutual understanding with her friends.
Cay had always been secretive about his past, but her ability to tear down all the blockades he set up for any people suspicious enough to look for it had proven fruitless. She was manifesting herself more and more in his mind. Day by day, especially at night when everything had settled down: they were the most alive in the hall.
Her love for Cay had been under a natural condition (“Love me back when I love you, love me, even more, when I don’t”, she once said to him); His call for her had always been answered. However, the shifting from passion to relaxation had been a rough ride, although they eventually managed it in the end. They knew they had to. The everyday sex became a thing of every three to five days; the tolerance for unanswered texts became forgivable and forgettable.
They went out less after some time, compared to Cay’s constant splashing of one-day trips to nearby towns, which they had done research on before considering visiting them.
One of the most memorable trips was to Glastonbury. They had not been there for the festival (it would not be until next June), but for the love’s sake. Upon arrival at the Glastonbury Tor, they saw the entire proposal process of a man kneeling opposite to his would-be wife. The setting was right for the couple: A sunny day with the light breeze just blowing just underneath the ancient building, where a light was still visible. Cay had a warm-hearted moment and looked at Jenna, she returned the favour by kissing him passionately. A high point of love had always been infectious to anyone around.
They spent the night interacting coquettishly, accompanied by continues climaxes efforted from both, eating whatever was left in the section of their fridge before returning to business.
“Have you thought about marrying someone before?”, asked Jenna, after one of their sessions.
Cay was caught by surprise at first, but her question immediately coated him with same the warm love he felt that afternoon, and answered, “Yes, you.”
They were preparing to move out from the noisy premise and into one of the houses at Twerton, which was only a five-minute walk from where they lived. The house itself was a little mouldy, but then again, there were not enough homes for students that were completely free from any problems. Twerton was a place where you could find in London’s East-end, or at the ghetto of Manchester city. They did not mind, so long as they were together.
One of the tenants living in the same hall, Gordon, who was studying Creative music, agreed to move in with the two. He had never minded, or perhaps bothered to interrupt, the noises coming out from Cay’s room before. It made sense to move into a new place with a quiet person, they would be enjoying the constant love with minimum obstruction.
On the day of moving out, Kuan and Dylon came to help Jenna and Cay with the luggage. It had been Cay’s first official meeting with Jenna’s parents: Kuan immediately gave him a wide hug before he had the chance to shook hands with Dylon.
“So, where shall we begin?”, Dylon asked the young couple, with his face creased after looking at her daughter’s piled luggage. Suggesting a regretful look.
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