It's All His Fault

Amaya

“What are you doing?” Kristo asked, eyeing me from behind the breakfast bar where he was sipping on a beer. I shrugged.

“I saw all this art, and I thought it was a shame not to hang it,” I replied casually. I half-expected him to tell me off for getting my hands all over his stuff, but he just shrugged.

“Fair enough.”

I continued around the apartment until I had decided exactly what was going to go where. After the last few weeks, it was good to do something that was so totally practical, so hands-on. When I was done, I headed back through to the kitchen and stood in front of him.

“I need to borrow your toolbox,” I announced, and he cocked his head at me.

“And what makes you think I’d have a toolbox?” he remarked, the flicker of a smile passing over his face. I rolled my eyes.

“Because you’re a modern man who can handle his own shit?” I remarked, and he got to his feet with a slight sigh and headed through to the spare room.

“I might have one that my stepmom gave me years ago fo