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It was three months and a week since Ian’s next door neighbor, a petite girl named Jessica, had moved out to live with her boyfriend. She had even stopped by to tell Ian goodbye on her last day there, which Ian found sweet.
It was three months to the date since a new figure had appeared in the building. Ian remembered being bewildered at first by the way the man seemed to be moving all of his belongings in by himself. The sheer amount of grunting and cussing alone had been enough to pique his interest. After another, louder this time, string of curses Ian had left the safety of his tiny apartment and offered a hand. The guy had glared at him for a solid minute before nearly toppling over with a coffee table and begrudgingly accepting the help.
Somehow, the two ended up becoming fast friends and the man, Mickey - as it turned out, wasn’t so bad. He was grumpy and loud but they got each other. They seemed to egg each other on just enough without pushing the boundaries too much.
It was three days since Ian had royally messed up. He was pretty sure the man had been dropping hints for a while. As they sat on Ian’s couch watching Netflix together - they did that a lot those days- he found himself getting brave. Maybe it was the beer. Maybe he was insane. Maybe it was the look Mickey gave him after laughing about something stupid. Ian had done it. He’d leaned in and kissed him.
All then of a sudden Mickey had been on his feet, making excuses as he practically tripped over himself on his way out. Ian had barely any time to recuperate by the time he heard the door to Mickey’s apartment fall shut. The rest of the night was spent staring at the ceiling and mentally beating himself up. Ian didn’t hear Mickey leave but by the time he gathered enough courage to go see him (because it wasn’t exactly a text conversation) Mickey’s apartment was empty.
Ian waited and waited, and waited. Three days and not a sound. No Mickey’s usual banging around. Nothing.
By the end of the third night Ian was about to finally give in and call him when he heard the keys jingle and was up on his feet in no time. After talking himself into actually moving, and half expecting the door to be locked as it had been before, Ian practically ended up falling into Mickey’s apartment where the man was apparently busy digging through a backpack.
“Christ. Can you not break down my fucking door? What’s wrong with you?” he said.
Ian stared and stared prompting a confused look on Mickey’s face.
“Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did,” he said, finding himself unable to stop. “I misread the situation and then freaked you out so bad you left. I thought you were moving out or something all because-“
Mickey snorted, stopping Ian in his tracks.
Now it was Ian’s turn to be irritated.
“What?”
“Relax, psycho. I wasn’t moving out.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. I went to see my sister.”
“So… you didn’t freak out?”
Mickey shrugged, looking embarrassed.
“Surprised me, man. Didn’t think you had it in ya.”
Ian stared.
“So… you wanted this? I was right? But you ran off!”
Mickey kicked at the floor, then swiped at his nose.
“Maybe. Whatever. You gonna stand there and judge me?”
“No.”
Ian hesitated and Mickey finally looked up.
“Does this… mean we can try this again? Properly this time?”
Ian flushed at how hopeful his own voice sounded. Mickey looked sheepish.
“Not the way I imagined this conversation going but uh, yeah. If you want.”
Ian grinned.
“I’ll leave you to unpack. Come by in an hour?” He stopped by the door. “Dinner’s on me.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get outta here, asshole.”
“I missed you too, Mickey.”
Ian grinned before disappearing. Mickey came by an hour later, as promised, and if they ended up making out like teenagers that night it was nobody’s business.