Chapter Text
You had expected life to be much more lonely, after relocating for your new job. Kilima was small, and not well-known for its social scene, your college friends had warned you when you’d accepted the job offer; but you’re pleasantly surprised when the first friend you make in your new city is quite literally delivered to your doorstep.
After a long day of moving boxes, building furniture, and paying movers, you are officially settled into your first adult apartment. A long shower has cleansed you of the blood, sweat, and tears it took to provide yourself the bare minimum of a home, and you slump down on the newly constructed couch, surrounded by meticulously labelled boxes. You survey your surroundings; the bathroom and bedroom have been unpacked, but the kitchen and living room are nightmares. Boxes of dishes and pantry items cover the table and the floor, and aside from your couch, the living room consists of cardboard and bins of knickknacks, furniture that needs to be built, and winter clothes vacuum sealed tightly. Your foot hits the side of a box labelled “Blankets” as you snuggle deeper into your bathrobe, sinking into the softness of your brand new, very expensive couch. The serenity of the moment is short-lived, however, as a loud knocking breaks through your train of thought.
You stumble through the mess, nearly tripping over a pile of haphazardly stacked, partially unpacked boxes on your way to the door. You throw the door open without thinking of your less-than-ideal appearance, and are greeted by a very attractive man holding a pie. He takes one look at your bathrobe and stifles a laugh.
“I’m sorry for the late night visit, but this took a lot longer than I expected…” He extends the pie towards you, and after securing the belt on your robe sheepishly to make sure nothing flies open, you gingerly take the tin. “I’m Reth, from 13B. Seems we’re gonna be neighbors, so I wanted to welcome you to the building.” He smiles, clearly nervous, and your expression softens, no longer concerned that he’s appeared to complain about the moving noise or has any creepy intentions.
“Oh! Thank you so much,” you return his smile and introduce yourself, stepping aside to open the door a little wider. “Did you want to come in? It’s a little bit of a mess, but,” you glance behind yourself at the war zone of a room behind you. “I can dig out some plates and forks and stuff, if you wanna hang for a bit.”
“You don’t have to feed me, that pie’s all for you, but I’m down to chat for a few, if it’s no bother.” You assure him that it isn’t, and step aside to allow him in.
Taking in Reth from 13B as he gracefully clamors over your belongings, you gather that he’s a pretty nonchalant guy. About your age, his long hair hangs just above his shoulders in tight bundles, dark with a tint of auburn. He’s wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, exposing a tattoo that wraps around his forearm. The faded ink on his tan skin blends in subtly, melding with the freckles that litter his body. He slumps down onto your couch, making small talk about your move, how you’re settling in.
You tell your new neighbor about your day like you’ve known him all your life; conversation flows naturally, and despite not expecting company, especially this late, you feel more comfortable than you had ever been with any of your friends back home. “Basically, this art gallery offered me a super sweet deal, and I’d been dying to get away from home, so it was a no brainer,” you explain as you patter around, clearing off one of the kitchen chairs to sit on. “It’s not exactly my dream job, mostly admin work, but who am I to complain? Getting any job with an art degree is practically a miracle.”
Reth laughs, propping his feet up on a box. “I get whatcha mean. I spent my whole life trying to become a carpenter, and ended up a chef, so… Yeah, that creative shit is no joke.”
“A chef?” You ask, eyeing the pie in front of you.
“Yeah, and a bartender. Nice place a few blocks over,” He perks up like a little kid. “You should come by sometime! I’ll hook you up.”
“That’s a promise you’ll have to keep,” You laugh too. “Once I finish cleaning this place up, I’m gonna need the strongest drink in town.”
A few days later, with all your boxes emptied, you can finally relax. And while a drink sounds amazing, you have more important business to attend to. Reth’s pie had sustained you for most of your unpacking process, and after he spent a couple of hours shooting the shit with you, you wanted to return his kind gesture. Even if your food wasn’t as good, as you were certainly not a chef, it was the thought that counted. Freshly showered, you threw on some comfortable clothes and set to work.
“No one can mess up cookies,” your mother had once told you when you’d begun learning how to cook. “Sugar, butter, flour, and you’re golden. Don’t overthink it; no one ever turns down a cookie.” For all that she’s gotten wrong, that woman knew life’s biggest secret; the fastest way to win a man’s heart is with food. After an hour or two of whisking, spooning, baking, and making a mess of your brand new kitchen, you’ve produced a relatively presentable plate of desserts. After securing them with foil, you take them to Reth’s.
The door swings open, and you do a double take to make sure you’re at the right apartment. A girl stands before you, looking confused but intrigued. “Hello,” she eyes the plate in your hands and her eyes light up. Turning away, she yells, “Reth, you’ve got company!”
Reth appears from the kitchen, apron and all, and smiles at the sight of you. “Hey neighbor! Come in, come in.” The girl swings the door open, stepping aside and ushering you in.
“I’m so sorry for interrupting, I didn’t know you had company…” Slipping off your shoes as you enter, you glance up. Across the room, staring daggers at you, is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.
Peering over thin, round glasses, dark eyes pierce right through your soul. His hair is dark, near pitch-black, but a small patch of white falls over his face. He’s tall, you can tell even though he’s sitting, with sharp cheek bones and an even sharper jawline. His skin is paper white, with dark eye-bags, like he hasn’t slept in weeks. He’s rigid, like your presence has startled him, perched on the edge of his seat, ready to bolt if you make one wrong move.
You are suddenly extremely aware of yourself, like you’ve been frozen by his stare. The fact that you’re in a tiny pair of sleep shorts and t-shirt with no bra has not escaped you, and your face heats up with embarrassment. Reth’s voice breaks you out of your sudden rush of thoughts, and you break free of his guest’s stare, turning to follow the sound.
“This is my new neighbor I was telling you guys about,” He announces your name, and the girl clasps her hands together in excitement.
“Oh, I’ve heard all about you! Reth said you were pretty, but he really undersold it! Here, let me help you,” She takes the plate from your hands, bringing it to Reth, his laugh filling the room as you blush further.
“This is my sister, Tish,” He explains, jutting his chin to an empty space on the counter for her to set the plate onto. She’s gorgeous, with bright blue eyes and golden blonde hair that falls just below her breasts. You assume she’s the younger of the duo, lacking a bit of the roughness Reth’s kitchen scars and burns, as well as his tattoos give him, but you suppose it could just be her demeanor.
“And that’s our friend Jel.” Another vague gesture with his chin, and you turn to see Jel has made himself busy, nose buried in a book. He glances up and nods, expression indecipherable.
“Pleasure,” is all he says before looking back down.
“Nice to meet you both,” you turn your attention toward Reth and Tish, smoothing down the frizz of your still-wet hair. “I’m sorry again for intruding; I just wanted to return the favor. That pie seriously fed me for like, days.”
“Nonsense,” Reth sweeps his hand through the air, declaring your concerns silly. “I’m glad you liked it! And cookies are always a welcome gift. I’m working on a new recipe right now, if you want to hang out and be a taste tester?”
“I would, but I’ve got work in the morning.”
“Oooooh, at the art gallery?” Tish chimes in, moving across the room and plopping down unceremoniously next to Jel. His shoulders stiffen, not looking up from his book.
“Tish, can’t you pretend like I didn’t tell you every bit of our conversation?” Reth lectures, to which Tish giggles.
“It’s not like it’s a huge secret! New town, new job, those are normal things to know.” She looks to you again. “I heard you had lots of furniture in boxes still, too. Do you need help? I’m a master furniture builder,” she flexes her arm dramatically. “Literally! I’m a carpenter.”
You smile, shaking your head. “I actually just finished putting everything together today, thank you though! And yeah, I’m sure Reth told you already, it’s nothing super exciting… but I love art, so getting to work surrounded by beautiful paintings all day was enough to get me to move out here.” Tish glances up at Jel, elbowing him in the side, but he doesn’t so much as blink. You take this as a sign it’s time to leave. You turn back to Reth as you slide your shoes back on. “Thanks again, neighbor.” He meets your gaze, smiles, and nods. “It was nice meeting you two!” Tish waves and tells you not to be stranger; Jel doesn’t acknowledge your existence at all.
As soon as your door is locked, you’ve practically bolted to the bathroom, staring critically at your reflection. Your frown is so deep you fear it may leave extra wrinkles. You can’t think of a worse first impression you could’ve made on your first potential friends, let alone the first man who has ever fit your type to a T. Reth had already seen you straight out of the shower and bundled up in a robe, but he’d been the one to intrude on you, so you gave yourself some grace. But to show up at his apartment dressed like this? you were an idiot. And if you’d taken two seconds to think before you’d gone over there, you would’ve heard the lull of conversation--- muffled and quiet--- but present nonetheless, from your shared wall and would’ve known he had company.
Idiot.
Oh well, you guess. It’s a decent sized town, and these are the very first people you’d met. Reth had done the kind, neighborly thing to do, and you’d repaid the favor; this would probably be the last actual conversation you had with any of them, save for some small talk in passing, right?
Wrong.
“I come bearing gifts!” Reth grins as you open your door, instinctively moving aside to let him in. Over the past few weeks, you’ve learned that he actually has every intention of becoming your friend, whether it’s forcibly dragging you next door to taste whatever he’s been cooking up, conveniently appearing on his balcony whenever you’re reading out on yours, or showing up at your door to barge in and chit-chat. And you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t love it; living outside of your hometown, where you don’t know anyone, don’t have any regular hangout spots, and don’t have any reason to leave your house besides work is incredibly lonely.
“Woah,” you take the bottle of wine from his outstretched hand, inspecting the label. “Where’d you get this?”
“I stole it from work,” he winks, making himself at home as he drops onto your couch. “Just kidding. My boss gave it to me and I don’t drink reds. Could use it for cooking, but I figure you’d have a much better time with it than I would.”
“Well thank you,” you slide it into your fridge, alongside another bottle of red and a white you’d bought at the liquor store a few streets over. “I can promise you it’ll get put to good use. But why’re you trying to butter me up? Did you get too experimental in the kitchen again?”
“Me? Never.” He laughs, flipping through a magazine you had sitting on your coffee table. “But I was told to ask you; Tish is coming over tonight and wants to see your place, if that’s cool with you.” You tell him of course she can come by, that it perplexes you she’d even need to ask, and he shrugs. “She doesn’t have a lot of friends, outside of me and Jel, y’know… I think she’s afraid of being overbearing or coming’ off too strong. She might critique some of your furniture placement, but otherwise, she’ll just be happy you let her in.”
When Tish comes over later, you share Reth’s wine and she gives you a rundown of all the good spots nearby to check out. “There’s this coffee place a few blocks over, it’s so good. And super cheap! Jel and I go there all the time when we’ve gotta get work done.” She holds up the Google page, and you recognize the exterior immediately.
“I walk past that place every day on my way to work! I wasn’t sure if it was good, but I’ll definitely check it out this week.” At the mention of her friend, you feel your heart skip a beat. You’ve found that, while Tish and Jel are close, he spends a considerable amount of time next door with Reth. Almost every night, you can hear faint mumblings between the two men through your wall. It goes on and on, into the early hours of the morning— You’re not sure if either of them sleep, and you can’t help but wonder what the hell they could possibly be scheming that takes up so much of their nights.
“We should go together sometime, too! If you like it, of course. And we can go shopping for some curtains. You need some like, yesterday. Aren’t you worried about people seeing in?” This had been Tish’s number one complaint about your apartment setup. To your surprise, she found everything else suitable. If a professional declared your shoddy, mismatched collection of furniture to be satisfactory, who were you to complain?
“We’re so high up, honestly, I didn’t even consider that a possibility,” you laughed. “But we’ll get it done ASAP, I promise.”
You’re eager to try the cafe recommended by Tish, and when you pry yourself out of bed even earlier than usual before work, you declare that today’s the day. Work hadn’t been too difficult thus far, but some extra time to sit down and go over your assignments for the week certainly wouldn’t hurt. It’s rainy out, and you’re ill-prepared for it— It rains much, much more here than it ever did back home, and though you’re sharply dressed in a nice blouse and dress pants, you’re discontent with the way your pant legs have gotten soaked from your walk. Folding up your umbrella as you step into the bustling shop, you look up to meet a familiar stare.
“Jel?” You can’t help but smile, despite the fact that he looks less than pleased to see you. He’s at the table nearest the door, and you side step out of the entrance so as to not block any incoming customers. His table is littered with papers, and a mostly full cup sitting next to him implies he’s only just arrived, or has been here a long time and needed a pick-me-up.
“…Hello,” He looks away, like he’d suddenly come to the realization that staring is rude. He takes a sip of coffee, opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, and instead looks back down at his mess of a table, returning to his work like you weren’t there at all.
What the actual fuck? Your smile melts off of your face like he’d slapped you, and instead of standing there like an idiot, trying to make small talk with someone who clearly does not wish to converse with you, you get your coffee to go and leave without looking back.
what’s with your friend jel? You text Reth once you make it to the office. bumped into him at the cafe and he totally blew me off.
Reth responds a few minutes later with a shrugging emoji. He’s shy.
And a workaholic.
And is probably grumpy because he hasn’t slept in weeks :p
You respond with a pouting emoji. you’re not a total dickhead and you don’t get any sleep, either
He retorts: That’s cuz I take uppers and Jel takes downers, lol
Well, that answers that, you think.
Somewhere within the 8 hours you spent at work, the sun came out and dried up all the puddles. On your way home, you mull over your interaction with Jel, lost in a spiral of cursing him for being an asshole and cursing yourself for lacking the social prowess to make him like you.
You end up showering, washing the negative thoughts down the drain, and changing into your nicest pajamas before retiring to your balcony with the smuttiest book you own, a joint, and a very heavy pour of wine. Having been here for a month or so now, you’d unlocked a newfound appreciation for an outdoor space to relax after a long day. Especially when it got late, the nighttime air made you feel cleansed and serene; it was hard to hold onto whatever troubled you when the view was this good. Plus, anytime Reth smelled the possibility of free weed, he usually appeared on his own balcony, and you two ended up leaning against the railing, making each other laugh or scream about whatever was bothering you, reminding you that there was some good to come from your move after all.
You hear Reth’s sliding door open, like you’d manifested his appearance, and without even looking up from your book, you say, “You want a hit?”
It isn’t until you’re met with silence that you look up, not to Reth, but to Jel. His hand is cupped over the cigarette dangling from his lips, lighting it before taking a long inhale. When he exhales, through the smoke, he finally replies. “I’m assuming you thought I was Reth, but I would, actually, if the offer still stands.”
You’re caught off guard, mouth hanging open dumbly as it takes your brain a second to catch up. You stand up, placing your book down on your chair, and walk over to him. He holds his cigarette away from you as he carefully takes the joint. You expect him to hit it and immediately give it back, but instead he takes another drag from the cigarette, holding onto the joint so you’ll listen to what he’s about to say. It’s in this moment that you realize Jel is a conniving motherfucker, and you don’t know if you love or hate it.
“I’m sorry for being rude to you earlier.” He’s blunt, holding your gaze intently despite his discomfort. You’re unsure if this discomfort is from Reth undoubtedly telling him what you’d said earlier, or if it came from a place of genuine distaste for his actions. “I’ve been drowning in deadlines at work, and I was preoccupied with that. But that’s no excuse to ignore you. It was incredibly arrogant of me, and I apologize.” His stare is hard, but has a tinge of pain behind it. Something tells you that this apology may not have been spurred on by Reth’s meddling— that he just felt bad. He takes a hit and returns the joint, now that you’ve heard him out.
“It’s fine.” Your tone sounds way more tense than you’d intended, and you look away, letting smoke blow out of the corner of your mouth. “I didn’t take any offense,” Liar. “It’s not like you know me that well or anything. You don’t have to apologize.”
“You definitely looked upset,” He counters, still staring you down despite your refusal to meet his gaze. “And rightfully so.”
How would he know if you looked upset? He barely even acknowledged your existence! Instead of saying this, though, you turn and offer him a tight smile.
“All I wanted was some coffee. What you decide to do or don’t do has no effect on my mood.”
Joint in ashtray, wine in hand, book left outside to succumb to the elements— you gather your shit and go back inside.
Reth doesn’t reach out for a few days, and you’re sure it’s because he’s heard all about you losing your temper and snapping at his friend. How you’ve managed to burn bridges so quickly, you’re not sure, but you’re certainly upset about it. As much as you want to feel bad, and apologize, you actually don’t think you’ve overreacted at all; How can Jel see the way you look at him and not provide even the basics of kindness? He can’t even meet your eye in the light of day, but at night wants to speculate what you were feeling. It irritated you, so much so that the faint sound of his conversing with Reth next door had kept you up all night for days. You’ve found yourself friendless, sleep-deprived, and downright miserable.
You throw your purse over your shoulder, leaving for yet another grueling day at work in which you must survive on only two hours of sleep. But as you open the door, you nearly trip over a package placed carefully at your feet.
From Tish, the note attached reads, Working a double today— Stop by after work. Reth.
There’s an address scrawled underneath, and you slip the note into your bag. You take a second to open the package, and can’t control the smile that turns into a laugh. It’s a set of curtains; handmade, you’re sure, because they’re the exact size to cover the large sliding doors, and perfectly match your living room’s decor. They’re a deep shade of purple, so dark it’s nearly black, and when the morning light hits them, the violet undertones shine through. There’s embroidery on them too, with matching thread, of delicate flowers and leaves. You don’t think you could find something better in a million years, not if you tried. The stitching is impeccable, and you place them carefully on your kitchen table, making a mental note to buy a rod on the way home so you can hang them tonight. As you walk to work, you send Tish a thank you text.
Hours later, she replies with a confused sticker, followed by ??????
The Kilima Inn is as much of a hole in the wall as Reth had described to you previously; you nearly miss it, though that’s in part due to the heavy downpour that began about halfway through your trek there. Folding up your umbrella and wiping off your shoes, you get a familiar feeling as you look across the room and spot not only Reth, who’s beaming at you from behind the bar, but Jel, sitting hunched over in front of him. You shoot Reth a nervous wave, and he waves back, mumbling something under his breath to his friend, who stiffens. As you approach, their previous conversation halts and you’re reminded of how much of an outsider you are amongst their friendship.
“Hey,” You slide onto the stool next to Jel, trying your best to swallow your embarrassment. He folds up his notebook, tucks a pen into his pocket.
“Hello,” Jel tries to play cool, but he’s much less nonchalant than Reth. You can feel nervousness radiating off of him, giving it away that you most definitely interrupted something.
‘What’s up hot stuff,” Reth slides a drink across the counter to you, which you accept gratefully. “Seriously, that outfit is hot. Do you always dress so snazzy for work?” You laugh, looking down at your all black attire. It’s nothing special, a button down and dress pants, but they’re definitely the nicest clothes you own; your pants fit perfectly, save for their length, and your shirt is just low cut enough to serve the dual purpose of a work shirt and a going out shirt. The new bra you bought to brighten your mood a few days before certainly helps, too, providing lift previously unimaginable.
“Snazzy, sure, but no amount of snaz is saving me from having soaking wet pant-legs,” you complain, eyebrows pinching together to emphasize your discomfort.
“Aw, you’re such a shortie,” Reth chuckles, and Jel peers down at your legs.
“Why are your pant legs so long?” His question isn’t intended to be rude; his eyes are wide and he looks up at you incredulously. Even if you were still angry with him, you couldn’t help but laugh.
“Tailors are expensive! And why does it rain so much here anyway? It wouldn’t be a big deal if this place wasn’t so wet.”
“Don’t you trip over them?”
“Not if I’m careful,” you wink, and Reth laughs loudly once again. You raise an eyebrow at him. “Now Reth, my beloved neighbor, can you explain to me why Tish has zero idea about those curtains that appeared on my doorstep this morning?”
His laughter ceases immediately, knowing damn well he’s been caught in some sort of lie. “Are you sure you spelled ‘curtains’ right?”
“Positive.”
“Then I have no clue!” He quickly makes himself busy, and you notice Jel looks even more uncomfortable than he did before. Like magic, his phone rings, and he turns away to answer.
There’s a series of “Uh-huh”s, “Mhm”s, and “I understand”s, followed by an “I’ll be right there.” He hangs up and glances at you apologetically. “That was my boss.”
“I figured,” you side eye him, taking a sip of your drink.
“I want to say sorry again, for the other day.” He stood as he spoke, taking out his wallet to pay his tab. “I saw that you had a bunch of paperwork in your hand when you came in, like you had work to do. And then you left right away. I assumed that you were upset because of me, and I’m sorry if I overstepped by implying that.” He sets down a 50 dollar bill, waves goodbye to Reth, and makes a quick exit.
You’re still trying to process what just happened when Reth returns. He says something that you completely miss, and when you go “Huh?”, he looks a little concerned.
“I said, why’d Jel leave all of a sudden?”
“Oh, his boss called. He said he had to go take care of something.” Reth nods in understanding.
“Weird. He must’ve been in a good mood for some reason, ‘cause he tipped me 50 bucks.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t that to pay his tab?”
“Nah, that was water.” Your neighbor looks at you, wide-eyed. “I can’t get him drunk, he drove here!” You laugh, explaining that you had no idea Jel had a car. Reth tells you all about his friend’s ‘super sick sports car,’ and things feel like they’ve finally fallen back into place.
You hang out at the bar until Reth gets off, the two of you walking home side by side, discussing your respective workdays. He rants about how his coworker forgot to place the liquor order this week, and how fast they were flying through whiskey. “I seriously don’t understand how these people drink so much. We’ve got people who hang out from open to close, just throwing’ em back. Like damn, save some for the rest of us! Anyway, what about you? What’s life like in the art world?”
You actually do have work drama, and unload it on Reth. This morning, there was a big meeting where they announced an upcoming gala that the gallery would be donating art to for their annual raffle. As such, every employee was expected to attend. Your coworkers' gossip quickly outlined to you how big of a deal this was, and you were ridiculously stressed out about finding something to wear.
“Like, I don’t know. I can dress myself every day for work, but having to find something formal that isn’t too formal and will make a good impression at this big, once a year event? That’s a lot of pressure…” Reth nods in agreement as you continue. “I’m gonna go window-shopping this Saturday, see what I can find.”
There’s a glint in Reth’s eye that only seems to appear when he’s scheming something. “I think I know of a place; let me double check the address later, and I’ll send it to you.”
Sure enough, Saturday morning starts with a note taped to your door. You’re not quite sure what Reth’s up to, but a quick Google search proves it is indeed a boutique that also offers tailoring services, so it could certainly benefit you. You enjoy breakfast, leftovers from a new recipe Reth shared with you last night, and step out into the early afternoon light.
The shop is slightly off the path you’d usually take to work, right around the corner from the coffee shop Tish had recommended to you. It was much bigger than it looked on the outside, with a big open floorpan to accommodate the mannequins displaying some of the finer designs on display. And they were all lovely, you were sure. But your eye was instantly drawn to the dress in the dead center of the floor, clearly still in the final stages of design. There was a basket full of sewing supplies set up next to it, with measuring tape, pins, needles, and scissors spilling out all around it.
Understated but elegant, the dress was all black, with dark green embroidery that could only be seen if the light hit it just right. When it did, you could make out stars, a small moon here, a sun there, nestled into the fabric like it was a secret you were being let in on. The fabric was soft and satiny, and the way it pooled onto the floor was mesmerizing. Unintentionally, you moved to admire it up close, your hand ghosting over the mannequin’s shoulders, admiring how the neckline was just low enough to emphasize the bust, but not enough to be perceived as inappropriate.
“Can I help you?” A distracted voice startles you, making you jump back in embarrassment. You both look up at the same time, and for once, Jel looks just as surprised to see you as you are to see him. He stutters out your name, his face flushing. “What are you doing here?”
You hold up the note from Reth like it will somehow shield you from the awkwardness of the situation, explaining that he’d left it taped to your door. “I had no idea you worked here, I’m so sorry…”
Jel plucks the note from your hand, staring at Reth’s messy handwriting. “Why would he send you here?” He shakes his head at the note, handing it back to you. You start to explain your predicament, looking anywhere but at him.
“I see…” When you do finally look back at Jel, his eyes are wide and maybe you’re imagining it, but it seems like there are a million thoughts racing through his mind. “I see. Well, I’m sure I can help. Did you see anything that you liked?”
You can’t help but look back at the dress, before looking at Jel again. You can’t bring yourself to say it; it’s not even done, and it’s probably being custom made for somebody else. It would be silly to even ask if he had something similar, with how unique it was. But Jel has a smile that is downright sinister, and you don’t have to say a word.
“You should try it on.”
He doesn’t let you argue, either. Just slips it over the mannequin’s head and ushers you into a dressing room. And why not play along? You undress, slipping the dress on. You can’t button the back by yourself, and Jel is waiting to assist when you reemerge. Quite the professional, his fingers move deftly up your back, directing you over to a mirror once he’s finished.
You both stare in awe. You’ve never seen Jel smile, let alone beam, but the look in his eye is indecipherable; it’s tender and troubled all at once, sparkling and cold. His hands ghost over your shoulders, much like you had done previously, admiring the perfect fit.
“It’s yours,” he declares, and you whip around to gawk at him.
“It most certainly is not,” you frown, staring up at him. He raises an eyebrow in confusion, so you continue. “There’s no chance in hell I can afford this. The craftsmanship is *insane*— there’s no way this isn’t a multi-thousand dollar dress.”
And suddenly, Jel is laughing at you. He’s laughing hard, like it’s hurting his stomach. You’re staring daggers at him, face turning bright red in embarrassment. Once he calms himself, through tears, he says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I promise. But that’s not what I meant. You don’t have to pay me for it, I just want you to wear it for the gala.”
This does not solve your confusion; in fact, it only makes it worse. “Do you own this place?”
Like he’s shocked by this, he stutters. “N-No, no, I’m just an apprentice.” A sheepish hand came up to scratch the back of his head as he continued. “But that’s my dress; I made it.”
“You made this?” You’re dumbfounded.
“Is it that surprising?”
“Yes! I mean no, but yes… I had no idea you were a tailor!”
“Well, you kind of did…”
You didn't think your eyes could get any wider. “Those curtains were from you?”
He somehow looked even more embarrassed than you did. “I felt bad about our conversation.”
Now it was your turn to laugh at him. So he pinned the gift on Tish and forgot to tell her what he’d done? It was so sweet, and so stupid— you couldn’t help but find it incredibly endearing. Amidst your laughter, Jel makes himself busy making space for you to stand where the dress had been displayed to evaluate what alterations needed to be made. He waves you over and gets to work, explaining how exactly he’d landed on this genius plan.
“Tish was telling me all about your furniture, and then she started complaining about how worried it made her that you didn’t have any curtains, so once we got into it, I figured that was as good a gift as any.” He pinches and prods sections of the dress while talking, seeing where there was too much space and where the fabric pulled too tightly. He was extremely thorough, but it was mostly in vain— If you didn’t know for a fact that Jel barely looked at you, let alone knew your exact measurements, you’d have sworn this dress was made for you. The only thing off was the length. “I knew they’d both been in your apartment, so it just took a few questions, and I had a pretty good idea of what would fit.” He bends down, holding pins in his mouth as he begins placing markers for hemming. He mumbles something under his breath, something along the lines of “It’s always the length,” and you hum thoughtfully.
“Aren’t you worried you’re gonna poke yourself in the mouth?” You look down at him, trying to ignore how attractive he looks. The meticulousness in which he works, efficient yet gentle, clearly very good at what he does, is mesmerizing. The sunlight washing over him from the front windows has a halo effect, and as he peers up at you over his glasses, your heart flutters.
He speaks from the side of his mouth, holding the pins tightly in place. “I’m a professional, darling. No need to worry about that.” This promptly shuts you up, and you sit in a comfortable silence until he chooses to speak again. “So, do you like them?”
“They’re lovely. Thank you, Jel.”
Later that night, you’re awoken to the obnoxious, incessant sound of someone knocking on a door. Not your door, you quickly realize, but a beat goes by and you realize it’s your neighbor’s door that’s at risk of getting busted down and haul your ass out of bed. A quick glance at your alarm clock tells you it’s about 1:30 in the morning, and when you swing your front door open, you are pissed. Someone better be concerned that Reth has been kidnapped or died if they’re this loud this late. You open your mouth to unleash a string of profanities, but close it just in time. Rather than the angry scream you were expecting, your voice comes out in an annoyed hiss:
“Jel, get your ass in here.”
Thus marks Jel’s first time inside your apartment. You lock the door behind you, turning around to glare at him. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I needed to talk to Reth.”
“Reth’s not even home!” You stare at him incredulously. “Besides, why didn’t you just call him?”
He ponders this for a moment. “I’m rather… technologically challenged.”
You stifle a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” You reach for your phone, only to realize you’d left it plugged in on your nightstand. “I’ll text him and see when he’s comin’ home. ’Til then, you’re stuck with me, I guess.” You move into your bedroom, and Jel follows behind awkwardly, taking in his surroundings. He’s clearly trying to be nosey without making it obvious, eyes flitting around. You perch yourself on the edge of your bed, shooting Reth a series of texts.
jel just almost broke down your door looking for you
where even are you anyway
can u come and get ur friend so I can go back to bed
You set your phone down and catch Jel staring intensely at your closet. The door is slightly ajar, and you can see his brain working overtime trying to see whatever he can in the dimly lit room. You shift so that you’re sitting criss-cross on the bed, using your pillows as a backrest. “Go ahead and look, if you want. I’m sure the tailor side of you is *dying* to know what kinda clothes I have buried in my closet.”
“It is,” he admits, taking you up on your invitation immediately. “Your closet tells me more about you than any words ever could.”
“Oh really?” You raise an eyebrow. “Then tell me, Mr. Tailor, what secrets does my closet hold?”
He thumbs through your clothes thoughtfully, gently running his fingers over some of the fabric. You receive texts back from Reth:
LOL yeah he does that sometimes
Tell him idk when I’m coming home
Probably early morning
He’s your lost puppy dog until I get back ;)
Y’all have fun
You reply,
what does early morning even mean???
like 5am or 9am
Reth sends a shrugging emoji in return:
No clue
Depends on how much fun I’m having
You set your phone down and see that Jel has finished his evaluation. “You’re very… compartmentalized,” he declares. “You keep work clothes separate from personal clothes, going out clothes in the back… And you don’t go anywhere particularly formal.” You nod in agreement. “And you value comfort over style. Not that you don’t have style… but it’s all wide leg, maxi skirts, flowy dresses. You avoid constricting cuts.”
“I’d say that’s about right,” you nod again. It’s interesting— in the last 24 hours, you’ve heard Jel speak more than you have in the last month and a half. It paints him in an entirely new light; he’s passionate, professional, knowledgable… You would have never imagined this side of him.
“But your desire for comfort constricts you in other areas.” You raise an eyebrow, and he points at your shirt. “You’re always wearing lounge clothes at home that you’re embarrassed to be seen in. If you want to be comfortable, you need to feel confident in whatever you’re wearing— even if it’s just to sleep in.”
“…I can’t really argue with that,” you frown, looking down at yet another t-shirt/tiny short combination you’d forgotten you were wearing.
“But truthfully, the most beautiful version of yourself is always going to be the version that you are when no one else is around. So maybe your embarrassment is stemming from being vulnerable.” He shrugs, gently closing the door to your closet.
“Every time I see you, you’re wearing a button down and dress pants. What does that say about you?” You point at his outfit, and he chuckles.
“That all I do is work,” he sighs. “And that all my creative exploits go into making shit for other people. I used to make all kinds of interesting clothes for myself, but this apprenticeship takes up all of my time now.”
“And what do you wear to bed?”
That sinister smile of his creeps back onto his face. “Not a damn thing.”
You hope and pray that the dimness of your bedroom masks the fiery burning in your cheeks. “So what if someone comes banging on your door at 2 in the morning?”
He laughs, running a hand through his hair. “I would simply roll over and go back to sleep.”
This gets a laugh out of you as well. “Well, I don’t think that would work out well for me, with you and Reth around. Speaking of…” You stand, leading him back out into your living room as you speak. “Reth said he’s gonna be awhile, and he’ll come here to get you when he’s back.” You step into the kitchen, holding up two bottles of wine; one white, one red. “Why’re you looking for him, anyway?” Jel gestures towards the red, and you nod in agreement, pulling out a corkscrew and two glasses as he responds.
“You’re wondering if it’s about you, isn’t it?” He asks, moving away from you to look out onto your balcony. You ignore the question until you’ve opened the bottle, extending a glass to him as you push past to step out into the nighttime air.
“I absolutely am,” you set your glass down on the table, slipping into the chair tucked into the corner. The wind makes you shiver, reminding you that you’re still in pajamas as you nestle further into the rough fabric.
Jel sets his glass on the railing, making quick work of lighting a cigarette as he stares out into the quiet city below. “It is,” he admits, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth. “I need his advice.”
“On?” you lean forward, staring at him despite his refusal to make eye contact.
A hint of a smile plays on his lips, his head shaking ever so slightly. “How much information is too much information.”
“What a vague answer,” you counter, rolling your eyes playfully. You think for a moment, before letting your tone turn serious. “What if I want to know more about you?”
He turns to look at you then, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. “What if you don’t like what I have to say?”
You’re taken aback by his question, his eyes boring into you as he tries to gauge your reaction. The intensity of his stare makes you shiver once more, arms coming up to cross over your chest for protection, both from him and the wind. “I find that unlikely,” you shrug, leaning back in your chair. “I like to think that I’m quite agreeable.”
He laughs at this, chuckling as he turns his attention back to the sky. Silence sits between the two of you, as he mulls over your response. Just as the tension starts to feel too heavy, he sighs. “Do you know who Barinka Omiata is?”
This is an unexpected shift in conversation, and it causes you to stutter out of confusion. “She’s the head of the Omiata House,” you nod even though his back is turned to you, “practically a legend in the art world, of course I know who she is.” When he doesn’t immediately reply, you add, thinking it’s what he’s fishing for; “And she’s hosting the gala I told you about earlier.”
There’s another long pause as he lights another cigarette, taking a sip of wine before he speaks. “She’s my mother.”
Your eyes widen with surprise, though it did make sense; The House of Omiata was widely known to be made up of Barinka and her five children— you’d heard rumors, in college, that there was a sixth child who had yet to be employed by their mother. You hadn’t paid it much thought, especially since textiles were not at all your area of expertise, but you had thought that the rumor, if true, was incredibly sad. What kind of mother showed off her blatant favoritism to the entire world? And now that you’d seen Jel’s work, you couldn’t believe he was working as an apprentice when his mother was one of the most famous designers in the world. His work was incredible— worlds beyond anything you’d ever seen before.
He turns to face you once more, leaning up against the railing as he steels himself to continue. “Her gala is the one time a year that I get to make a showpiece— it’s the only opportunity I have to make something that’s completely original, not a commission or a part of my studies.” You nod in understanding, trying not to focus on how nervous he looks as he speaks. It’s cute, the dusting of blush that colors his cheeks; but it makes you nervous, too. He lets out a sigh, his eyes glowing with worry as he goes on. “The dress you tried on today is my piece for the gala. I’d let you think that I was doing you a favor, but really, you’d be helping me if you wore it.”
The sigh of relief that escapes you is so hefty that it makes you laugh. Jel’s eyebrows pinch together in worry as you do, his expression tinged with despair and betrayal as he assumes that you’re laughing at him. You take a sip of your drink as your heart rate slows down, your previous anxieties dissipating. You raise a hand as if to say ‘give me a second’ as you swallow, and set your glass down gently as you speak. “I was so afraid that whatever you had to say was something terrible,” you giggle again as you lean back in your seat, meeting his gaze. “Jel, that’s incredible. It makes me happy that I can help you, too. I worried that lending me that dress was way too big of a favor than I could ever repay you for.” You watch as his eyes soften, the wrinkles of worry disappearing from his face. “Besides, you’re still doing me a huge solid; I need a dress regardless of your involvement, but I’m sure Tish would’ve worn it if you needed, so really, I still kind of owe you.”
“Actually, Tish usually accompanies me…” His eyes flit away from you once more, his blush coming back tenfold. “...But she wouldn’t have been able to wear this one.”
Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline in curiosity, but before you can question him, you hear the sound of Reth’s balcony door opening. You and Jel both startle in surprise, heads shooting up as your neighbor steps out, illuminated by the light of his apartment.
“Yo,” he waves lazily, smirking like he knew exactly what you’d been discussing. “I’m home.”
“I see that,” Jel stubs out his cigarette, picking up his glass. “I’ll come over in a minute.”
You wave nervously at Reth, feeling dizzy from the sudden shift in mood. He waves back, chuckling as he gives you a once over.
“Thanks for keeping him company,” he calls to you, leaning over the edge of his railing to get a better look at you. “Sorry for disturbing your sleep.”
“That’s alright,” you smile, standing up as you prepare to move inside. “We had fun.”
“I bet you did,” Reth laughs again as he side-eyes Jel, who bends down to pick up your glass from the table, ushering you inside.
After he carefully places the glasses in your sink, you stand awkwardly in the doorway as Jel shrugs his jacket on. “Thank you for letting me wait here,” he stares down at you, propping your door open with his foot. “So… you don’t mind wearing my dress for the gala?”
You smile up at him, brushing your hair self consciously out of your face. “I don’t mind one bit.”
Flustered by your bluntness, he nods curtly, turning away to make sure that Reth wasn’t spying from next door. "You realize that means we'll have to make an appearance together."
"Yes, I'd imagine that's a part of wearing a showpiece..." Your train of thought is cut off by a yawn, the lack of sleep beginning to catch up with you. "...Does that bother you?"
His smile is soft as he shakes his head. "Not at all." He nervously adjusts his glasses, before speaking again. "I'll see you soon, then."
“Have a good night, Jel.”
As you collapse back into bed, it's not Reth and Jel's chatter through the wall that keeps you awake; it's the intense beating of your heart, the excitement that bubbles to the surface as you replay the night's events in your head.