Logs:New Housemates Old Traumas

New Housemates Old Traumas
Dramatis Personae Anahita, Budi, Cyan
In Absentia	2024-12-30 I think perhaps you have both gotten in the habit of making yourselves small -- whether for safety or convenience or comfort. I know this will not change how you see things, but I still think it needs to be said: you don't need to do that here.
Location <NYC> Anahita's house - Queens
This is a modestly-sized, not-too-old rowhouse in Queens, with four bedrooms -- two on each story, arranged around a small shared garage on the lower level and a kitchen and common area on the upper. The common area is small but open, with plenty of natural light from the windows, though -- unfortunately -- also plenty of noise from the expressway roaring overhead. There is a small breakfast nook beside the kitchen and a more comfortable seating area with a handmade rug in the living room; there are colorful woven tapestries hanging on the wall, framed prints and art scattered through the hallways, and plenty of plants livening up the plain furniture. Inside it is pretty quiet, no TV or music interrupting the constant whoosh of nearby traffic; one of the residents is sitting at the table, short legs crossed at the ankles and swinging where they don't reach the floor, flapping one sandal rhythmically against his heel as he eats. He is small and brown-skinned, with very large ears pressed flat to the sides of his head and soft, furlike hair, dressed in a plaid yellow lungi and a long white shirt. The kitchen is still fragrant from garlic and ginger and scallions and eggs, his pan still cooling on the stove, though the add-ons doesn't seem to have done too much for his very pedestrian meal of two-minute noodles. There's a jingle of keys at the door, and the deadbolt disengages easily, but it takes quite a bit of rattling at the door knob before it opens to admit Anahita and her guest. She wears a stand-collar purple tunic under a very soft red sweater, a long black skirt trimmed along hem with bands of fabric as ornamentation, sturdy lace-up boots. She has a red shayla wrapped loosely about her shoulders and up over her head to hand down over the opposite shoulder, where she's carrying a canvas tote. "Oh good, you are here," she allows Budi a soft, friendly smile. "This is our new new resident." She steps out of the doorway and sweeps a hand in dramatic welcome. With a quick glance to Anahita for assurance, Cyan steps on, shoulders slouched, head down to make himself seem smaller. He’s made an effort to dress up today, his attempt at making a good impression includes his most formal hoodie -- a light grey one without any visible patch-jobs -- and his best cargo pants. Before he headed here he even tried combing his hair, an effort that has been rewarded by his black locks finding new angles to stand out in. Otherwise he’s wearing a pair of heavy black boots, two pairs of black face masks and holding a worn-looking grey duffel bag made from a sturdy canvas fabric with everything he owns. He gives a slight bow in Bodi’s direction, “hi...I'm Cyan,” he offers sheepishly, his entirely too black eyes darting around rapidly, already calculating escape routes. Budi perks up the instant he hears the key in the lock, ears quirking and then lying flat again; he's already slipped half out of his seat by the time Cyan and Anahita are all the way through the door, so he can bow politely back. Once he's straightened up again he gives Anahita, then Cyan, a (very friendly!!) (very wide, very toothy) smile, though his eyes are travelling over the newcomer's face, taking rapid stock -- "How do you do?" he says, somewhat more eagerly than the question really warrants. "My name is Budi. I am here a short while, so far. Are you, ehh..." he glances over his shoulder at his mostly-eaten meal, then back toward the kitchen, then seizing on, "-- fruit, you want fruit? I will cut a fruit." The loose lungi and long shirt do not totally hide the awkwardness of his gait as Budi lopes over to the kitchen. As he does so, he is keeping up a cheerful chatter, "-- you are new in New York? America? You like? It is so cold. But Anahita is very nice, you will like it here," this last comment would sound almost imperious, but that Budi's manner is sort of aggressively self-effacing. He rises up on his tiptoes to poke at the bowl of navel oranges on the counter; there are only two there, but he considers them like this is a decision of titanic importance. Anahita follows Cyan in and closes the door behind them, toeing out of her boots and into her house slippers. "I am sure we can figure out how to distribute two oranges to three people. It will be a delightful puzzle." At the praise she just dips her head slightly in acknowledgement. "Budi is a good bit nicer than I am. But we each do our best. The people you two replaced were very withdrawn, which was fine, too." She fetches up and leans back against a counter to study Cyan. "You aren't required to socialize in any particular way, but I don't think you need to be a hermit, either. I'm sure that we can find a good balance." Following Anahita’s example Cyan takes his boots off, leaving them at the door. He walks very gingerly, as if he’s worried about putting his whole weight down on his feet. “Nice to meet you uhm Budi,” he watches his new flatmate carefully, “new in New York yes, I don’t mind the cold...” he trails off, leaving his duffel bag next to his boots before walking in properly, taking another look around. “A balance is good...” his eyes seem to catch on a particular piece of art, a little bit dazed by all the colours and textures around him. “I haven’t lived with someone before, like, properly, I could use a little bit of guidance, is there anything I should be aware of?” Once he sets a knife and cutting board on the counter, so gently they don't make a sound against the worktop surface, Budi darts across the kitchen to wash his hands. "You -- never lived with anyone before?" His expression is not actually confused, but the pleasant openness is a little fixed now, like he's buffering. "You are from..." now his voice seems to buffer too, his mouth opening and closing twice before he just says, "... where you are from? I, ah..." as he comes back to the counter, taking one of the oranges, he glances with sheepish expectation at Anahita, rather transparently hoping she has guidance. Anahita's is quiet through this exchange, then does push herself a little more upright, if only to wrap her shayla. I think that very much depends on the other people. Some houesmate are quiet, some loud; some are messy, some clean. But in almost all cases, the key to both avoiding and resolving living space conflict is communication." She looks directly at Cyan. "You do not need to talk about every difficulty or desire or annoyance, but you should practice talking about some of them." She laces her fingers together. "Our household rules are in the living area, but they change every time a houesmate leaves or a new one joins. You don't need to figure out about all that just. Take your time settling in." “Well I’ve lived with people, just not properly...” Cyan is at a loss for how to explain what he means to Budi. “I was born in Boston, but I don’t remember actually living there. It’s like-” he gives Anahita a look he hopes she understands means help. “Practice talking yes, “ he nods along as she talks, it doesn’t really help him figure out a way to go ‘hey by the way you need to not touch me and if you start hallucinating that means our ventilation system is broken’ to his new housemate without sounding completely demented though. “So is there something I should know?” He looks to Budi, “like do you play violin or are you allergic to something I should avoid bringing in?” "Yes, miss," this is with an odd, bobbing nod, but Budi has his gaze pointed down, cutting the first orange into neat wedges and transferring them to a small plate; this doesn't sound like agreement so much as Taking Note. When he does look up at Cyan it is with a faintly lost, deer-in-headlights stare -- "Ehh... no? I think no. I will be quiet and clean. I will not bother you. You won't have to know I'm here. I am -- what is it? Low-maintenance. Ha ha ha." (This isn't even pretending to be a real laugh.) He looks down again, gets started on the second orange. Anahita looks from one of her housemates to the other. "I think perhaps you have both gotten in the habit of making yourselves small -- whether for safety or convenience or comfort. I know this will not change how you see things, but I still think it needs to be said: you don't need to do that here." She drapes the scarf she's just doffed around her shoulders like a shawl. "Take up space, and be aware of it. And take care to avoid to avoid skin contact with Cyan." She taps her chin thoughtfully, and adds to Cyan, "we will be getting more air purifiers, and stronger inline fans for the bathrooms, too. But I think beyond the safety concerns and house chores and being courteous, there is so much more that can come of living together. But that's no hurry, either. Those things," she lowers her voice confidentially, "are for us to discover." “You don’t have to be...low-maintenance, you know?” Cyan looks to Budi, “you can be high-maintenance, I don’t mind, just...” he sighs, finding a place to sit down. As Anahita speaks his gaze is focused-far off, his fingers tracing little circles on the table. “You’re right Anahita, we’ll figure things out as we go-” he takes a deep breath “-so let’s try this again.” He turns to Budi, sitting up properly and making sure to actually look at him as he speaks. “Hi Budi, I am Cyan, I am kind of dangerous to touch but I’ll do my part of chores and stay out of your hair. You don’t have to be quiet unless you want to, and I don’t mind knowing you’re here.” He smiles softly, but behind his masks it’s hard to tell for anyone not actively looking for it. “This is your home even if I’m around, you know? I’d feel bad if I made you feel like it wasn’t.” Budi is just quiet, for a moment, staring down at his cutting board with one ear twitching restlessly, before -- silently -- he moves the rest of the orange wedges to the plate and sets it in front of Cyan, then retreats a few steps again, long-fingered hands tugging at the collar of his shirt where it presses at the underside of his chin, where his neck is too short for it. He gives Cyan another odd, bobbing nod, maybe this is meant as encouragement. "To share," he says, and then with another shallow bow, "Welcome, welcome!" Then, without waiting for a reply, he is skirting back around into the kitchen to clean up. Anahita bows her head slightly, and there's something in her smile that's hard to interpret. "Thank you," she tells Budi before he bustles off. The smile does not change at all, but a tension that had not been visible in her shoulders before eases away under the loose drape of the scarf. "Welcome."