Chapter Text
More and more boxes streamed through the front door endlessly. It made you wonder if it would ever stop. Your belongings arrived today, finally, on a moving day after a gruesome, never-ending paper and contract that you needed to sign, read, and review to have a place you called home.
Sergio fussed in his traveling crate, meowing and curling up inside, both affronted that he wasn’t allowed to go out and terrified at the stream of strangers running around him. You gave him an apologetic look. It was hard enough that he hated coming into unfamiliar places now he had strangers all around him.
The apartment was big enough that you could say you were surprised it was on the market at all. It wasn’t that far away from the office either, making it a more than ideal place to live in.
You smiled and thanked the people delivering all of your belongings and furniture, pressing some tips against their palms as you waved them off. It left you now alone with an apartment filled with a lot of boxes waiting to be opened—the real battle was starting, and you already felt like losing.
Violet came through the front door with two traveling bags in her hands. One that belonged to you and the other belonged to Sergio. She huffed and puffed as she placed the bags on the floor, her hair pressing against her forehead slicked with sweat.
“You know I’d love to help you unpack,” she said, her eyes darting around and wincing at the number of boxes filling the room. “But this one is an emergency, I’m afraid.”
“I know,” you waved her off, immediately squishing her guilt. Violet was supposed to help you with the moving process, unpacking and all, but the patient in her clinic was a more pressing matter than unpacking boxes on a moving day. “Just go. I’ll be fine. Karen, Foggy, and Matt agreed to help anyway.”
You had told them that you were finally moving into your new place today during lunch break—more of an announcement than a request for help. When Matt asked if you would love for them to help you unpack things, you agreed immediately.
Violet sat across you on the floor, propping one of her legs above another in a perfect criss-cross. She cooed and invited Sergio to sit on her lap—he was sniffing and inspecting around, happy to finally be freed from his traveling crate, sometimes nibbling one of the boxes curiously before he abandoned it in sudden disinterest.
“What time will they come?” Violet patted the floorboard absentmindedly after failing to catch Sergio’s attention. “I’ll wait with you for a while. My appointment is still an hour away.”
A rapt of knocking on the door came through as if on cue.
You leaped to your feet immediately, eager to get through the day and get most of the work done before the weekend ended. Matt stood outside with a paper bag clutched in his hand.
“Am I late?” he skipped past through greeting. “There was quite a line in the coffee shop.”
“You’re actually the first one here,” you ushered him to come inside. “Beside Violet.”
Violet lifted her hand in greeting. “Hi, Matt! Been a while.”
“Hey, Vi. How are you?”
“I’m good, good,” Violet tilted her head slightly as if to study Matt’s face. “How are things? All good?”
“Just as usual. We have an additional member now,” Matt nudged you slightly. “The clinic has been busy, I heard.”
“It does, even on weekends. Can you imagine?” she huffed.
“Well, I believe that has something to do with being a great dentist.”
“Always a flatterer,” Violet cooed and slung an arm around your shoulders. She wiggled her eyebrows at you, a wide smile tugging on her face made you roll your eyes.
Matt grinned. “Does that mean I get a friend discount for a dental check-up next time?”
“ Aaand he thinks he’s funny,” Violet shook her head. “If you think that’d work with me, you’re up for a bad time.”
You shoved her hand away and pressed your lips to prevent a smile from growing.
“I ought to try.”
“Don’t try then,” Violet gave him a pointed look. “As much as I love to catch up and help, I have an appointment with my patient,” she flickered her gaze between you and Matt, an unreadable glint in her eyes made you squint. “Have fun, babes!”
Unpacking should be fun, yeah.
“So,” Matt started, breaking off the silence that Violet left in her wake. You snickered silently, Matt always seemed to not know where he stood when it came to Violet. He let his cane fall into the crook of his arm, his free one extending towards you and dangling a paper bag from a coffee shop down the street. “Where should we start?”
You grabbed the paper bag from his hand and took a peek inside. “What’s this?” you asked, already knowing the answer by heart before you pulled one of the items inside. “Iced vanilla latte?”
Matt hummed distractedly. He started to wander around your apartment, walking around as if he was trying to burn the layout of your new place into his memory. After taking a few tentative steps, he halted his steps, crouching down cautiously. “Hi,” he whispered, his hand fumbling around momentarily. “You must be Sergio.”
Sergio sniffed Matt’s hand carefully, eyes trained on his dangling fingers, wary of the unfamiliar presence around him. Satisfied that he couldn’t smell any threat out of him, he huffed and bumped his head slightly against his palm.
“Nice to meet you too,” Matt scratched Sergio’s chin and hummed delightfully, looking more pleased than Sergio. “I’m Matt.”
You took a sip of your coffee, amused and confused at the sight unfolding before your eyes. Sergio usually didn’t like strangers, and you couldn’t remember whether Matt liked cats at all. To think about it, you had never seen him around any presence of animals, always preferring walking around alone with his cane sticking by his side.
You took the nearest box and started to unpack. Matt wordlessly followed after Sergio ditched him in favor to inspect his new home, marking every corner he deemed worthy to be claimed as his favorite spot. You sat with him back to back, leaning against each other for support and a faint reminder of each other’s presence.
Little words were exchanged between you and him, not that there was a need for any in the first place. You inspected the kitchen appliances you had brought together with you, a set of kitchen knives your sister had bought for your birthday last year catching your attention. What was the thought process behind deciding a set of kitchen knives would be a perfect birthday gift, you didn’t know, but you were glad that it was gorgeous and very sharp.
Matt nudged your feet to gain your attention. “Is this what I think it is?” he waved a stack of paper towards you.
“Oh, yeah,” you snorted, catching a glimpse of the paper on his hands. “It’s the morse code practice sheet.”
“Can’t believe you still have it.”
Morse code, for as long as you could remember, was a sacred secret language you shared fondly with Matt. Foggy was a part of this to some extent—if only he didn’t give up learning halfway—he could understand if it was slow enough, or he had the cheat sheet at his disposal. The idea came brilliantly one exhausting night huddled up together in the corner of the library, books opened either unread or grazed with a half-hearted glare.
Matt would tap his cane to the floor, and you’d respond with the clicking sound of your pen or a soft knock against any surface. It was mainly used to talk shit behind someone’s back in public without having to give away the topic of discussion, a fun game to send each other messages back and forth, and try to maintain a straight face. The only time your message failed to decipher itself—and the only time you remember and held a grudge against—was when Matt magically turned deaf in the middle of an exam.
“I’m not going to give you my answer,” Matt said after he ignored your aggressive tapping for half an hour. “You’re smart enough to pass this class.”
True, you did pass eventually, but not without holding a slight grudge that Matt refused to help once.
Matt shifted slightly on his seat, turning his shoulders completely to face you. His glasses catch the light streamed from the window just right, twinkling eerily underneath. “Do you still remember how?”
You knocked your fist against the floorboard rhythmically. I do.
Matt grinned and knocked the floorboard gently. Cool.
I know, you knocked. I am smart.
Matt scoffed. Show off.
Jealous much? You raised an eyebrow.
You know I do better than you, he smirked at you, his fist knocking the floor eagerly. Your taste in coffee is shit.
You gasped, scandalized to be disrespected in your own house. Fuck you.
Matt snorted a laugh. It is true.
Unprovoked! You knocked the floor aggressively. Asshole.
Admit it, Matt could barely contain a growing smile on his face. You squinted your eyes, caught in between wanting to smack him and strangle him. The one I get is better.
You pursed your lips, eyes slowly falling into the almost empty cup of coffee next to you. You studied the sturdy plastic cup from your seat, eyes trailed the design imprinted on it. Sure, it wasn’t from your usual place, but it was still your everyday order.
And it was really good. But there was no way in hell you’d give him the satisfaction of being right.
No, you finally knocked your answer.
“Lie,” Matt accused, pointing a finger at you. A laugh escaped him involuntarily, almost as if he didn’t mean to find the whole ordeal funny. “You know it’s true.”
“I’m not lying!”
“You are.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not!” you shook your head stubbornly, planting your hands firmly to the floor and propping yourself up to face him straight in the eye.
You inhaled sharply, suddenly breathless from the mindless yet heated argument. Matt cocked one eyebrow up, a faint smirk forming at the corner of his face. You almost could see his eyes underneath his shade from this proximity, unfocused and wide. You tilted your head slightly, too stubborn to back down now, silently challenging him to dispute your claim about your honesty.
You could swear he let out a shaky breath as he chuckled. “You know I can tell when people are lying to me.”
“And you should know better now that I’m as honest as I can be.”
“No, you should know better than trying to save face,” his smirk is in full form now. “Admit it. Admit it, I’m right.”
Like hell, you would.
You purse your lips, debating what good rebuttal to give him when your eyes catch a sight hidden before. You knitted your eyebrows curiously. Your gaze landed on the faint bruise underneath his eyes, hidden enough with his shade that it won’t be noticeable at first glance.
“What—” you raised your hand slowly to touch his bruise when a boom of knocking on your door startled you out of your stance.
Matt grumbled. “What on earth?”
“One unpacking box service coming through!” Foggy’s voice came from behind the door, and loud knocking receded to a stop.
You rolled your eyes. “Took him long enough.”
“I know you’re in there! Let me in!” Foggy knocked on the door again. “My arms are about to fall asleep. If you want me to be useful today, you have to let me in.”
You were met with Foggy and Karen stood side-by-side, a wide smiles both on their face. A little forceful on Karen’s part, but you were not going to comment on that when another thing caught your attention. Foggy held massive three boxes of pizza in his arms, and Karen with a giant tupperware in hers—you were actually surprised that there’s a tupperware that big.
“Are you planning to feed the whole neighborhood?” you asked incredulously. “There are only four mouths to feed here.”
“You’re welcome, honey ,” Foggy emphasized on the mock pet name, brushing past you to saunter into your place. “I give you a head start to become a stellar example of a great neighbor to your new neighbors.”
“With pizza?”
“Everyone loves pizza,” he waved an impatient hand, placing the box neatly. “Also I may or may not splurge on this, and we can always eat pizza for…” he silently counted the box. “At least a whole week in a row.”
“And this is a special lasagna, my grandma’s recipe,” Karen chirped. “I see both of you get a head start without us.”
“It has something to do with the fact that both of you showed up two hours late,” Matt said.
Foggy shrugged nonchalantly, walked straight to the box labeled ‘living room’, and opened it. He eyed Sergio staring at him wide-eyed from the couch and gave the cat a small wave. Sergio hissed at him.
“Rude,” he muttered underneath his breath.
“That’s what you get for telling him he doesn’t look like someone named Sergio,” you grinned at him. Foggy returned it with a scowl. “Now help me assemble the bookshelf.”
You sighed as you threw yourself into the chair facing the window. The boxes had been unpacked and the furniture had been placed and mapped out to your liking. Sergio immediately launched himself into the couch and claimed a spot, curling himself into a ball and dozing off in his favorite spot, purring happily that his napping spot was still the same just like how he remembered it.
Foggy sprawled all over the couch, he rested his eyes tiredly and was careful not to disturb Sergio’s nap after helping you install a bookshelf and assemble the book. They had made a silent agreement to tolerate each other’s presence sometime in the middle of the day.
“Seriously, how many books do you actually have?” his eyes trained towards three labeled ‘books’ boxes before him. Foggy made sure to voice out his complaint to you after he realized there were a lot of things that needed to be assembled for the bookshelf alone. “Are you planning to open a library?”
He was still dutifully assembling your bookshelf anyway, apparently having a quite strong opinion on how a bookshelf should be decorated. You didn’t try to intervene, pleased enough with his idea.
“Where do you want to put these?” Karen asked, holding two terracotta flower pots in her hand.
“Do you think the windowsill is good?”
Karen hummed thoughtfully, gently placing flower pots on the windowsill. “I think it’ll be cute with plants,” she said. “What are you planning to have?”
“Sunflowers,” you eyed the empty flower pots carefully. “They can get as much sunshine as they can here.”
“Ooh, that sounds cute!” she took a seat on the empty chair across from yours and groaned, sinking further into the chair. “I never know how to take care of plants. They always magically die under my care.”
You snorted. “They can be clingy and dramatic. They require a lot of work.”
“I know, right?” she shot her eyes open, wide and staring at you. “Maybe it was because I rarely stay home. But they sure do know how to make me feel bad.”
“It just needs the right amount of care, love, sunshine, and water,” you said, sinking your feet into the floor and sighing. You vowed to not move into a new place again. “Once you figure it out, it will bloom and thrive.”
“That’s probably one of many mysteries in life I’ll never figure out,” Karen muttered, chuckling to herself.
You propped your legs up and curled, resting your head on the armrest. The sky was wary outside, the sun slowly dipping towards the horizon, already tired from the day and ready to rest. It spilled a bright orange hue to the sky, the color of melting gold, and drowned the world alight.
Later that night—after the sun disappeared beneath the horizon and the moon twinkling cheekily outside—you found yourself sitting next to the windowsill again, carefully filling up the flower pots with soil and cursing loudly when you accidentally made a mess.
Sergio meowed loudly.
“Sorry, sorry,” you glanced at him and smiled. “I’ll clean it up.”
He meowed again.
“You don’t have to judge me,” you huffed, flattening the surface with a small shovel's back. “And you’re not allowed to knock over my plants, understand?”
Sergio huffed and walked away, climbing into his favorite spot on the couch to curl up and inspect the living room. You rolled your eyes and slowly put the sunflower seeds into their new home, hopeful and excited to watch them grow on the windowsill. You couldn’t wait to witness it slowly blooming to life, pondering what kind of journey you’d have alongside them.
=====
“ C’mooon, work with me on this.”
“I don’t know,” Karen knitted her eyebrows carefully, a pout slowly appearing on her face. “We promised we’ll show up at nine.”
Foggy rubbed his face and sighed. Yes, he did remember he promised you—everyone really—to show up at your place at nine to help you unpack your things and assemble your new place. But he was a man on a mission, and if he wanted to push some balls into motion, he needed Karen on his side.
“Just trust me. We’ll show up at ten or eleven—”
“Why would we?”
“—to give some privacy,” Foggy finished, somehow managing to ignore her question and answer it simultaneously. “We still show up. We’re still helping. But we’ll show up a little bit later than intended.”
Karen bit the inside of her cheek. “Moving into a new place can be exhausting, you know? On top of that—”
Foggy leaned slowly towards her and jerked his chin to his left. “ Look. ”
Karen followed his gaze and her eyes widened in realization. She watched you and Matt shoving each other’s feet underneath a table in a heated game of footsie, stubbornly trying to hold their place and refusing to let the other win. Your laugh rang through the wall freely, mixed with Matt’s huffed, softer one in the air, drowning whatever arguments sprout out in between. Probably something stupid like which brand of socks has softer fabric.
“Okay, I see,” Karen nodded slowly, diverting her gaze back to him. “I see what you’re trying to do.”