Friday, September 5th 2014

'Two. Fuck you, Jack,' Mark grinned, clinking his KitKat mug of vodka against Jack's Heineken bottle. The room was packed—fifteen or so crammed into the tiny apartment, half-sitting on mismatched chairs, some perched on cushions on the floor. The tinny bass of Avicii pulsed from a cheap speaker, but the booze-fueled chatter drowned it out.'Actually, cheers to Jacko on finally finding accommodation in Dublin! How many viewings did it take in the end?'

'Twelve.'

Jack was sick of Daft.ie, of trekking to see damp-ridden kips with fifty desperate applicants. One place had moss growing in the bathroom—and people still wanted it.

'Show them the picture of the place with the bed in the sitting room.'

'Hardly?'

Jack's phone was passed around the room, and one by one, they all gasped in horror at the image he had taken at the viewing - no one would've believed him otherwise. There was a single bed in the corner of a sitting room, with a makeshift curtain covered in mould wrapped around it for 'privacy', although it didn't even reach the ceiling.

'Six hundred euro a month?' exclaimed one of Mark's girlfriend's friends, who's name Jack had forgotten, in utter disbelief, 'is that a joke?'

'And there were loads of people at the viewing that wanted it!' Jack explained.

'We got so lucky with this place in fairness,' said Laura, Mark's girlfriend. The apartment wasn't much, but the four of them had made the most of what they had. There were strings of fairy lights lining the perimeter of the ceiling and bordering the windows. There were photo frames dotted across the walls, as well as 'live, laugh, love'-esque signs you'd expect to see in your granny's house. There were also candles everywhere. Although the room was quite tight for space, it had a very homely feel to it. It was clearly a girl's house too; a group of lads would have the place in bits.

'Five. Guys!' called one of the lads as he pulled a 'five' from the circle of playing cards that surrounded a half-full pint of God knows what concoction on the table, and all the lads in the room took a swig from their own drinks.

An hour or so later, Jack was outside on the tiny balcony with Laura and Mark; the two were sharing a cigarette. Jack had just come for the chat and some fresh air - the sitting room had turned into a proper sweatbox and one of Laura's friends had gotten quite handsy with him the drunker she got and he wasn't tipsy enough to have the patience for her. It had just gone ten o'clock and the sky was still clinging to the daylight even though the moon had already come out.

Jack leaned on the balcony railing, watching the city shift and pulse below him. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and the low hum of Dublin traffic. Even at this hour, the streets were alive—buses trundled past, taxis honked at cyclists, and clusters of students, drunk and draped over each other, swayed along the pavement.

No one made eye contact with the homeless woman crouched under the ATM, clutching a paper cup.

'Congrats again on finally finding a place, Jacko,' Mark said, exhaling a lungful of smoke. 'Not gonna lie, I thought you'd end up commuting from Galway until Christmas.'

Jack snorted. 'Don't. I was already preparing for it. I nearly cracked and messaged some fella renting out a converted garden shed in Ranelagh for seven hundred quid.'

Laura winced, passing the cigarette back to Mark. 'Jesus, you dodged a bullet there.'

'Honestly. Some of the places I saw were grim.' Jack took a swig of his beer, shaking his head. 'The one I ended up taking is actually decent though. Three-bed just off George's Street, sharing with a guy and a girl. Four-fifty, including bills.'

'Four-fifty?! That's unreal,' Mark said, flicking ash over the railing.

Laura raised a brow. 'Wait—where exactly on George's Street?'

Jack shrugged. 'Across from some nightclub.'

She smirked, exchanging a look with Mark. 'As in The George?'

Something in Jack's stomach lurched, but he kept his expression blank. He frowned. 'I dunno, maybe. Why?'

Laura tilted her head, amused. 'Jack, The George is a gay bar.'

The words hit him weirdly. Not in a shocked way, more like a slow, creeping realization that settled somewhere uncomfortable in his chest.

He forced out a laugh. 'No, it's not. Is it?'

Mark, already grinning, clapped him on the shoulder. 'Oh, it absolutely is, Jacko'

'It's the gay bar,' added Laura.

Jack's fingers tightened around his bottle. His brain ran too fast—weeks of panic over finding a place, scrolling Daft.ie, getting ghosted by landlords, viewing kips with damp-stained walls and mouldy curtains, convinced he was about to be homeless.

And now, after all that, he'd gone and signed a lease across from the biggest gay bar in the country.

His mam was gonna lose her shit.

'Ah, for fuck sake,' he muttered, shaking his head. 'I knew there had to be a catch.'

Mark howled with laughter, gripping his stomach. 'Jacko, you feckin' eejit! Of all the places...Only you would end up living across from The George by accident!'

Jack forced a casual shrug, lifting his beer again to hide whatever had flickered across his face. 'Look, I needed somewhere. And it's cheap.'

Mark wheezed, wiping his eyes. 'Oh, you're gonna have a great time, lad. Maybe it's a sign!'

'Piss off,' Jack muttered, rolling his eyes.

Laura exhaled smoke slowly, watching him. 'The George is actually class, in fairness. We've had some of our best nights out there.'

Jack hesitated, his gut clenching slightly. He shouldn't care. It was just a bar. It wasn't like he'd be living inside it, for fuck sake. But he couldn't help thinking about his mother's reaction.

'Jack, that area isn't exactly... appropriate, is it?'

He shoved the thought away and drained the rest of his drink. 'Whatever. It's grand for now.'

Laura raised an eyebrow. 'For now?'

Jack ran a hand through his hair. 'I mean, I'll keep looking, see if anything else pops up closer to UCD. But it'll do in the short term.'

Mark smirked. 'Ah, relax, Jacko. It's not like your bed's in the middle of the dancefloor.'

'Yeah, yeah,' Jack muttered, downing the last of his beer and headed back inside. He needed something stronger.