Chapter Text
Small whispering voices coaxed me out what felt like a ten year coma.
I heard a small jingle, probably my keys, and then I felt both of my arms being picked up off the ground. I fought to open my eyes, but the task felt impossible. The ground dragged beneath my body—or, more probably—I was being dragged on it. My stomach lurched as I felt myself being pulled up off the ground and dropped somewhere a bit softer. I concentrated on the sounds.
“Should we just leave him here?”
“He looks half-dead to me, maybe we should call an ambulance?”
The thought of being driven around again at double the speed and triple the stomachache was enough to pull me out of my trance, and I grunted as I propped myself up on my elbows. I was face-planted on the living room carpet. I gently turned to the side, somehow managing to lie down on my back, the two women in my room not even noticing my movements. One of them—the blonde one—was rummaging in my kitchen for some reason, and the other—the one with only a bra on—took a glass off the table and started filling it up with water. I don’t know why, but what stood out the most was the fact that I didn’t even remember taking her shirt off. Just how out of it was I?
“I don’t see a single pill in this entire kitchen,” the blonde one called out, “maybe you should splash him with water while I go look for an aspirin in my room.”
“Look,” my date said, “I appreciate the help, but maybe we should just call an ambulance and have them take care of it?”
The blonde was already out the door though, and I felt the other girl inch closer. I don’t know if she noticed my eyes being open or not, but it certainly didn’t stop her from emptying the entire glass on my face. I screamed, sitting up as fast as I could despite the protests of my body, and she seemed somewhat relieved.
“Oh my God you looked like you were dying!”
I refocused my eyes on her, “Sorry, I probably just—”
“It’s okay, don’t sweat it,” she said, clearly happy that she wasn’t going to be blamed for my death.
I felt the loud thumping in my head increase, the room blurring again, and I knew that I had to latch onto something tight and pull myself together.
The girl yelled in surprise as I pulled her down, fighting my lips as they crashed down on her own, my hands greedily tearing at the bra in front of me. I left her lips to lick lower, doing my best to block out all reason as my hand gripped a fistful of her ass. She kissed me back, then she pulled away, then she kissed me back again, before finally shoving me away. It took me a few seconds to register that she’d kicked me right where it hurts, before I screamed out in pain. She pulled away, confusion in her eyes as she stood up and stared at me. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“What?” I mumbled, hands gripping my boxers as if that would make the pain go away, “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes… but not with someone on the brink of death!” She yelled, scanning the room for something, and lunging for one of my discarded t-shirts. She pulled it on, smoothing down her disheveled hair to make it appear a bit better than it was. “This is insane,” she mumbled, “You looked dead and then you go and pull this crap!”
Despite the urge to continue arguing, I kept quiet. The girl shook her head in disbelief, mumbling something about me ruining her night and her sex drive.
My mind still hazy, I toyed with the idea of just locking myself in the bathroom until this fucking wild episode somehow resolved itself.
Instead, I locked my eyes with hers, “Now what?”
“Now I go home you fucking idiot!”
I relinquished the fight, dropping down on the floor. I could hear her stomping out of my apartment, honestly not giving a single fuck about where she was going or what she was doing. My head was splitting, the pain from falling down on the fucking floor still burning. I closed my eyes, deciding that this was tomorrow me’s problem.
Yeah. Just gonna pass out and let Natsu from the future deal with it.
“Hello?”
Or not.
I cracked one eye open, watching the blonde from before waltz her way back into the living room, reminding myself that this was the neighbor.
I had no idea why, but I looked at her. And I mean really looked at her. Her hair was now up in a bun, messy golden locks escaping to trail down the sides of her neck. She had fluffy pajamas on, but with the shape of her body they looked pretty darn sexy. Her legs went for days. Her eyes were still glazed over with hints of a dream, her little pink mouth parted in shock as she watched me examine her. Words flashed though my mind. Small. Blonde. Cute.
For a guy who forgets people right away, I retained the sketch of my neighbor. Something about her made me remember. I pushed the thought away, unsure why it even appeared in the first place. I never cared about girls. And I wasn’t about to start. Not with a neighbor.
Oh.
That’s right.
The fucking neighbor.
Newfound energy pulled my body up, and I walked up to her with the strength of spite alone. She looked up, noticing for the first time that when I’m not down on the fucking floor, I’m towering above her. Her small frame seemed to recoil as my chest pushed hers, backing her away into a corner.
“So you’re the bitch that keeps ruining my nights?” I growled, happy to see her eyes widen in horror.
“What… what are you talking about?”
“Oh don’t play dumb with me bitch, I know who you are.” I jammed my finger in her shoulder, “First you blast your stupid music high while I’m trying to fuck a girl, then you come up all high and mighty and stop me again?”
“Are you talking about yesterday night? You were being too loud, I thought the entire neighborhood could hear you. I did it to spare your dignity, along with all our eardrums.”
“Ohh little miss goody-two-shoes huh?” I spat out, “Then what about tonight?”
“I heard a loud banging on my door, of course I would—” she broke off, her eyes travelling down my body. I felt my cheeks flush, probably from the alcohol, when she continued, “You’re in your underwear, you should be thanking me for getting you inside when—”
“When what? I was perfectly fine fucking her in the hallway. Heck, I would’ve fucked her in your apartment.” My blood boiled, and I suddenly wished I was dressed, alone and sober. My eyes found hers again, fear trapped behind shades of brown. It irritated me. It irritated me that she had the nerve to be afraid of me and stare at me and— “Maybe you’re just jealous huh? Jealous hearing my girls moan in pleasure through the walls, humping on your door. If you ask nicely, I might forgive you, but only after I slam you down on this table and—”
I barely had the time to notice her fear morph into a look of complete determination as she slapped the living daylights out of me.
The hit was so hard it twisted my head aside.
Stunned, I slowly turned to look at her.
Her eyes were empty, “Fuck you.”
I stood there in silence, unable to move as she untangled herself from my grasp, escaping from the room. My legs suddenly overcame the paralysis, and I felt myself running after her, “Oh no you don’t—” I yelled, footsteps echoing in the hall as I turned out the apartment and ran up to her door. Then I came to a halt. She walked inside, staring at me, daring me to do something. But what?
I couldn’t very well hit a girl, could I? Even if it was the most annoying piece of shit I’d ever met.
Once she saw that I wasn’t going to move, she slammed the door in my face, but not without giving me a look of triumph before she did it. Something about the way she'd looked at me made my stomach clench. What the hell was going on? Was it the alcohol? Why was she the only thing I could focus on?
I slammed my fist on her door, the hall shaking with the sound, “Fuck you too!”
Sundays were the worst.
Monday, sure, you have to start the work week, the weekend is behind you and it sucks, but at least you’re up, you’re doing something. Tuesdays are a close second, you are still unable to party and forced to be productive and whatnot. Wednesday the work week is half over, weekend vibes just around the corner so it’s easier to bear. Thursday is Almost-Friday, and Friday, is well… Friday. You go out, you have fun, you still have two free days ahead of you. Saturday is amazing, you’re rested, haven’t woken up early to go to work, still have a full night ahead of you, you don’t have to do anything tomorrow.
And then comes Sunday.
I dread Sundays.
If I’d been nice the previous night, played games or been out with my friends, it was bearable. But if the night was one of those, one of these, like today, it was a fucking nightmare.
Sundays were reserved for reminding me what my life was like.
None of my friends were free to hang out, my childhood best friend Gray using Sundays as ‘family days’ or whatever, usually taking his wife and kid to a park or something. My high school friend Gajeel used to game with me on Sundays, but now his good-for-nothing girl Levy keeps pestering him and dragging him around who-knows-where since it was the only day of the week they were both free.
And I was usually home alone, either watching a movie or day-drinking or spending the entire day staring at one dot in the wall and waiting for Monday to come so I could feel useful again.
This was a particularly bad Sunday, even by my standards.
I woke up shitfaced, laying half-up on my bed and half-down on my carpet. Somewhere along the way I’d taken off my shirt. I moaned in pain as I tried to stand up, my legs wobbling at the weight. Somehow or other, I managed to drag myself toward the living room, screaming bloody murder when my bare foot stepped on something. I crouched down to take it, confused as I examined what appeared to be a box of aspirin. I vaguely remembered the blonde next door bringing it; that was probably why she was in the room last night, and why I—
As if on cue, I felt a throbbing headache, and willed myself to take a pill out the container and swallowed it raw. Memories from the previous night only served to make me question my sense of worth, and I decided to dwell on them later. I stuffed them all down a 'examine later' box in my mind, particularly pushing down the memory of golden hair and brown eyes.
Instead, listening to the growling of my stomach, I looked at the clock on the wall. 3 PM. Well, the one good thing to come out of this was that half the day was already over.
I entered the bathroom, running the shower as I examined my face in the mirror. I looked like shit.
My eyes were red, tired from the turbulence, or filled with smoke from the bar, or God knows what. My hair was a tangled mess, and I noticed a huge hickey on the side of my neck, remembering the way my date had clammed her teeth down on my skin in the cab. Instead of pleasure, shivers of disgust trailed down my body. I stepped into the shower, scrubbing hard. My fingers almost drew blood as I tried my best to remove all the filth and grime from the night. My guest’s lacy bra flashed before my eyes but it didn’t do anything for me. I couldn’t feel a single thing, except confusion. When did I take her shirt off? How did they manage to find my keys in my jeans and drag me in the room? Wait, they?
Oh yes, they.
That fucking bitch of a neighbor. The damned cockblocker. Oh, I’d show her, I’d show that little fucking—Nope. You said you wouldn't think about this.
Why was I getting so worked up about her? What was her problem? Why did thinking about her make my body tense? From the very first time I saw her standing there in the hallway, all pink and plump and proper, I’d known. I’d known dealing with her wouldn’t be easy.
I stomped out in anger, wrapping a towel around my hips. I was about to get dressed when the doorbell rang. Oh fuck.
I toyed with the idea of acting like I wasn’t home, but ultimately decided against it. Maybe the black-haired girl from yesterday wanted to try again? I was more than ready. I’d show her.
I opened the door, confused to see the blond dude. Then realization downed on me hard.
Of course he’d be here. I yelled at, pushed and threatened his girlfriend.
My body tensed with anticipation. I was in no condition to fight and to win. He was either going to kill me, or he was going to kill me. My eyes darted around the hall for a weapon, something, anything, as he waved his hand in front of my face.
“Hello,” he said, pulling me out of a trance, “Anybody home?”
I blinked in confusion, waiting for his fist to knock my teeth out. But it never came. He motioned toward the inside of my apartment, and I stepped aside to let him in.
He went into the living room, scrunching his nose in disgust as he noticed the evidence of a wild night everywhere around. When I’d come back after screaming at his girl yesterday, I’d stumbled in the living room, breaking a lamp and tumbling a chair in the process. Not to mention the old clothes and pizza boxes laying around.
He plopped down on the couch, surveying the place, and then his eyes rested on me, “Not even gonna offer me a drink?”
I mumbled something about only having whiskey and he accepted. I dashed to my room to at least put some shorts on and returned. As I poured the liquid in a cup, my back to him, I wondered what his game plan was. I felt the control of my body return, and I was sure I could take him in a fight if I put in my all.
“I heard you met my girl,” he said, and I tensed. I offered him the drink, watching as he swished the liquid around the cup before tasting it. For a split second I thought about making one for myself but decided that it was going to be the death of me.
“How ‘bout you just tell me what it is you came here for.”
He chuckled, waving his hands in front of his face, “No buddy, you got the wrong idea.” He downed the rest of the drink in one hit and placed the glass on a free spot on the coffee table. “I ain’t here to argue or anything.”
“Well?” I asked, a bit ticked off.
He seemed to think for a moment, “She told me you were getting it on with a girl right against her door.”
Before I could confirm, I felt something nagging me in the back of my head. Something was weird about the way he spoke, but I couldn’t pinpoint what.
“Said she had to drag you in here with your girl while you were passed out cold in the hallway.” Sting seemed to find it more amusing than anything, “Said you threatened her and followed her to her door.”
There it was. That’s what was bothering me.
Her door.
“Don’t you live there?” I asked, and I could see the question take him by surprise.
“No? Why’d you think that? She lives there and I join her when I can, but I live with my brother closer to my job.” He looked around the room, “I’m still testing it out to see if I should move in with her or not.”
I didn’t have anything to say to that; it was not my business at all. We sat silent for a minute before he continued.
“Look, I ain’t saying she got what was coming to her, but I get it. She can be a real pain in the ass.”
My eyes widened at the statement. Was he actually on my side?
“I swear I keep telling her to mind her own damn business but she doesn’t listen to reason. I told her about the music thing that you mentioned, and could you imagine what she said?” He smirked, “Said she was doing you a favor.”
Anger bubbled up again, and I pushed it down. What kind of a person was this chick? No, what kind of person was he? Oh wow, relationships suck.
“Then I come over for lunch, and she tells me she slapped you.” He shook his head with laughter, but I couldn’t see the humor in it.
“Yeah, she did. And not in a girly way either. It was a hard fucking slap.”
“Sorry,” he waved his hand as if chasing the words away, “She can be a handful sometimes. I told her that the next times she sees or hears you she should just pretend you ain’t there and do her own thing.”
“Good advice.” I replied, relaxing a bit.
“So,” he continued, “I guess your girl likes it rough since you’re pounding on the walls two days in a row.”
“They were both different girls, so I don’t really know what they like.”
I could see that I impressed him. He widened his eyes, a little smile tugging at his lips. “Nice. Good for you.” His mind went somewhere, I could see it, memories or imagination or something flooded his senses, and he was thinking for a few minutes almost forgetting I was in the room with him.
“I like you,” he suddenly said, extending his hand, “Sting.” I thought he’d already introduced himself, but this seemed to be more legit than last time.
“Natsu.” I replied, shaking it.
“Okay Natsu, I promise we will stay out of your way, but maybe keep it down a notch, huh?”
We both laughed, and he left.
It’s so much easier dealing with guys.
I pinched myself awake for the fifth time that morning, reminding myself that I was on a video call with my colleagues and falling asleep on camera wasn’t going to do me any favors.
They talked about the project, about the people, about the software, about anything and everything, words like ‘deliverables’, ‘stakeholders’, ‘KPIs’ being thrown around while I did my best to focus. The balcony door in my bedroom was open, a light breeze making the atmosphere even better for sleeping, and I pinched myself for the sixth time.
My boss, Erza, was yelling about something or other, threatening to cut our remote work if we kept slacking. I nodded with whatever she said, because technically, I was also the project manager and I should be the one saying these things, but it was 9 in the morning and I was tired. It had been a hectic weekend after all, and this early morning meeting wasn’t doing me any favors.
Suddenly, I heard something crash, and before I could register what had happened a loud, girlish squeal erupted. I looked around, stunned. It came from outside. I should’ve closed the balcony door.
“Natsu?” Erza asked, “Do you have someone with you?”
“What? No!” I yelled, frustrated. “I have a new neighbor and she’s probably still moving her stuff.” Then I heard rustling coming from the balcony, and I got up to inspect it.
“Alright, I guess that’s it for today. Let’s just wrap up with—” but Erza’s voice trailed off as I inched closer to the balcony. I heard something shuffling outside, and small girlish whimpers. I hurried back and ended the call, a bit embarrassed.
Then, curiosity getting the better of me, I took my coffee mug from the desk, and pretended to go out on the balcony to enjoy the view and drink my coffee.
I didn’t look to my right, where I knew that her balcony would be, and instead plopped down on the chair I had laid out. I could see movement out of the corner of my eye, and a sharp intake of breath. I’d startled her. I didn’t allow her the pleasure of looking her way, and instead just ignored her as she rustled back inside. Only then did I allow myself a glance in that direction.
There was a huge cardboard box with a drawing of two balcony chairs and a small table on it. So she was setting it up. Rather badly I might say. She’d taken out the pieces of what was supposed to be a chair, but looked like a monster had chewed it and spit it out.
Glad that she was failing miserably, I enjoyed my coffee even more.
I waited for her to come out again, even took my laptop out with me so I could work, but she never appeared. Too bad. I’d wanted to make her apologize for that slap. Oh well, she lived here now. Plenty of time to apologize. And maybe it was better that we didn’t see each other. I didn’t want her to ruin another night for me.
The following few days were quiet, and I mostly spent them in my living room to avoid running into lady Satan herself. I’d managed to escape her for a few days, happy that Sting had kept his part of the deal.
On Friday night I debated going out again, thinking about how I still hadn’t scored a single girl even though I’d done my best two nights in a row. But ultimately, I decided against it, and actually went to bed for once. Plus, that last encounter left me with a pretty bad hickey that was still healing, and something told me that no girl would appreciate going home with a man like that. It was still early, 11 PM or so, and a light breeze filtered in from my bedroom window.
I was drifting to sleep, when I heard something.
“This looks horrible!”
It was loud, pulling me out of my almost sleepy state, and I calculated that Sting was probably on the balcony next to mine, since it was his voice. I got up to close the window and get back to sleep. But when I inched closer to the window, a smaller voice stopped me in my tracks.
“I did everything the box said,” she mumbled, and I instinctively hid behind the curtain, even though there was literally no way they could see me from there.
“You should’ve waited for me, now I don’t even know which part is which.” Sting laughed.
“Yeah well, you’re always so super busy,” she said, and I felt amused. Oh, so the little girlie wasn’t good enough to even grab her boyfriend’s attention, was she? And there she was, acting all high and mighty when she slapped—
“I’m here now,” Sting mumbled, and I heard what was definitely a sloppy kiss. I felt rooted to the spot, not sure whether I should get away or stay. There were some rustling sounds, some mmphs and aahs, and I felt my face flush with embarrassment.
What the hell were they doing outside?
On the fucking balcony of all places? The balcony?? The thing that killed Romeo and Juliet?
“I missed you,” I heard her mumble, a little whimper—oh my God, what am I hearing—escaping her lips. My hands dripped with sweat, and I got the urge to close the window shut but then they could hear and know that I heard everything and—
“I know baby,” his words were jumbled, as he probably planted kisses who knows where while he spoke into her flesh, “but I can’t stay the night.”
Suddenly, I heard a loud rustle. “You can’t stay the night? What does that mean? Isn’t that why you came here?”
Sting’s voice was suddenly more urgent, “Baby, listen,” I heard them shift around, “I got that work trip tomorrow morning and you know it gets busy this time of the year—”
“I don’t want to hear it!” The girl screeched, even my own spine shuddering though it wasn’t directed at me. “You told me to leave Friday night free and wait for you?!”
“Yes, and here I am, but when we are finished, then I really have to—”
“When we’re finished? That’s disgusting! Are you honestly thinking that—”
And the sounds trailed off, shut out by their balcony door slamming against the wall. I could still hear their voices, loud over the wall that divided my room from hers, but I couldn’t understand a thing. The yelling lasted for a few more minutes, my heart hammering in my chest—half from excitement, half from embarrassment—and then I heard another door shut and that was it.
I listened for sounds of her doing something else—maybe crying—but there was only silence.
I heard her the next morning though. I heard her loud and clear.
“I was here first!” She yelled, her brown eyes burning as she pushed my things out of the way to make space for her own. The cashier seemed exhausted, not bothering to tell little-miss-bitchy that I was the one who actually got to the register first. We were in the supermarket closest to our apartment building, and even though it made sense for us to sometimes meet since we lived so close, it still irked me. I looked at her, all short skirts and long legs and tight shirts.
I felt something stir in me—hatred most likely—but decided to act against it since I’d promised Sting I’d be on my best behavior.
I didn’t utter a single sound, instead pulled my things closer to make room for her stuff, motioning with my hand that she should go ahead and just fucking take my place in front. A real gentleman.
She smirked, pulling out her wallet. With one small glance in my direction, as if I was an annoying bug more than a man twice her size, she turned her head. “As you should!”
Yeah, fuck Sting.
Screw the agreement.
“What did you fucking say to me?”