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The first one was a surprise. Luka raised his eyebrows as he plucked the tiny pink envelope from the door frame of his new apartment. Surely the fans hadn’t found him already. His hands were already pretty full, so he stuck the little envelope between his teeth as he fished out his keys and unlocked the door.
Luka hadn’t really had time to make the place feel like home yet. He really wasn’t even sure how to do that, honestly. His room on the boat had just sort of grown with him, and he couldn’t remember a time when it didn’t feel like his. His new apartment had the standard white walls, bland carpets, beige counters, shiny nickel fixtures. It was a nice place and he was grateful to be able to afford it, but at the moment, it felt like just another hotel room.
Luka kicked the door shut behind him, stuffed his keys back in his pocket, and took the envelope out of his mouth as he let his bag drop and his guitar case slide gently to the floor. He flipped the envelope over, examining it, but there weren't any markings on the outside. Luka briefly wondered if someone had left it on his door by mistake, but he shrugged and opened it anyway. He slid out a card with a bright spray of flowers printed—painted? on the front, with the word “bienvenue” in pretty calligraphy arcing over the top. Luka opened the card, and nearly dropped a second card that almost fell off of it. This one was plastic—a gift card, he realized as he looked at it, for a bakery with a fancy monogram logo. Inside the card in neat, loopy handwriting was written, “Hi, I’m your neighbor! I heard someone new was moving in so I just wanted to leave you a note to say welcome to the building. I’m not sure when you’re getting in so please accept this card in lieu of a coffee on me—or a hot chocolate if you like that better. Make sure you try the croissants!”
Well, that was unexpectedly nice, Luka thought, smiling as he looked again at the pink bakery gift card. He wondered which one of his neighbors had left it. There was no signature and no apartment number on it. Well, maybe they’d stop by sometime. Luka stuck the gift card in his pocket, and set the little card upright on the counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment, smiling at the splash of color the painted flowers made. He put the pink envelope next to it, just to add a little more color, and picked up his bag, humming to himself as he took it to his bedroom.
It didn’t take him long to unpack, put his sheets on the bed (they were plain white too, and he was beginning to be sick of the color, how boring, he was definitely going shopping tomorrow), shuffled out of his clothes, and fell into it.
When he rolled out of the bed in the morning and groggily pulled his jeans back on, he felt the hard plastic card in his pocket, and decided a fresh, hot cup of coffee was exactly what he needed. Thank you, anonymous neighbor .
***
The second one was even more of a surprise. Luka had been in the apartment for less than a week, but there was another small pink envelope tucked in the doorframe. He found this one as he was leaving, and might have missed it if not for the flash of pink that caught his eye as it fluttered to the ground. Luka bent and picked the card up, glancing around as he opened it. There was no one in the hall; Luka kept an unusual schedule so he still hadn’t actually seen many of his neighbors. The note this time was plain rather than decorated as the first had been,, but he still smiled as he read it. “Hey, I hope you’re settling in! I just wanted to warn you do NOT use the third dryer from the left in the laundry room. I keep calling management about it but they haven’t fixed it yet. The residents know to avoid it, but I forgot this week. My favorite Jagged Stone shirt will never be the same.” There was a small face drawn in the margin here, with tears flowing from its eyes. Luka grinned. “Just thought I’d better warn you,” the note concluded—and again, there was no signature, or anything to tell him which of his neighbors was kind enough to think of him. Luka shook his head, sliding the note back into its pink envelope and leaving it on the counter next to the other one.
The third one was less of a surprise, since there was an identical one stuck in several of the doors along his hall as he walked down it. Luka realized he would have been disappointed to be left out, and wondered if that was weird, but there was no denying the surge of warm fuzzy feeling at the sight of the note in his own door. It was taped to the door this time rather than just wedged in, and there was a small pink bag attached to it. Luka pulled the note off and opened it standing in the hallway, and chuckled to himself. “Happy Valentine’s Day neighbor! Hope this makes you smile!” Luka peeked in the little cellophane bag, and pulled out a macaron with pink filling. He shook his head, still grinning, and stuck the cookie between his teeth as he opened his door. Once inside he reached up and broke it off. Wow, that’s good , he thought, as he chewed. He ate the rest of the cookie and set the note on the counter next to the first one. The little cluster of pink on his boring beige counter still made him smile, even though he’d begun to slowly add his own touches to the apartment. Luka’s pick collection had pride of place on the living room wall, hanging above his instrument stands. The instruments themselves had a fair amount of color, other than his black-and-white guitar that he’d never had the heart to change. Because of his crazy schedule, he’d hung up blackout curtains throughout the apartment so he could shut out the world any time he needed too. They were a dark navy, but they relieved the blank white of the walls at least a little. He’d bought a bright red coffee maker for the kitchen but somehow that just made the stark white in there worse.
He still needed more cheerful colors, Luka decided. Too many dark blues and deep purples so far. The apartment needed to look like it was his, not Juleka’s.
Well, tomorrow was the day after Valentine’s day. Probably he could pick up some pink floor cushions for cheap, brighten things up a little bit. Maybe more of a hot pink rather than the pastel of the notes, and he could get some brighter purple to go with it, and that would remind him of his sister without bringing in too much goth. That might help. Anyway, the pink made him smile, so why not? He sure needed smiles in his life right now. Life on the road was harder than he expected, with the lights and the people in his face all the time. Luka loved what he was doing, but he definitely needed a place to be home that was all his own.
Out shopping the next day, Luka kept seeing things that reminded him of the little pink envelopes. He wished he knew which of his neighbors were leaving these notes, so that he could thank them or leave something in return. He’d like to give back some of the joyful moments they had given him. He wasn’t sure how, though. It would be weird to stalk his own door waiting, right? He had been thinking about a security system for when the fans inevitably discovered where he lived, but the building already had good security and installing a camera just to catch his note-leaving neighbor was probably just as weird as waiting in the hall all night for days. Luka picked up a little set of blue stationary with matching envelopes, and then rolled his eyes at himself before he put it back. He did, however, grab a little wire mail rack made to hold cards.
Luka mused on the question as he arranged the notes in the little stand, and then put out the rest of his purchases. He made dinner mechanically, but as he ate his thoughts wandered from Pink Note Neighbor to secret kindnesses, and just like that there was a hook in his head, and he left his dinner half eaten on his small round dining table.
A few days later there was a new note on his door, and Luka snatched it up quickly, glancing around the hallway. “Hi neighbor, was that you playing last night? I don’t know anyone else who plays, so I figured it must be you. I just wanted to let you know I could hear you, but I don’t mind! It just felt weird to listen if you didn’t know. I definitely enjoyed it though so don’t feel like you have to stop! If I need quiet, I have great noise-canceling headphones. Not that your music is noise! It was good! I just wanted you to know.”
Luka brought a hand to his face and realized he was grinning broadly. Whoever was writing these notes was funny, cute in the way she—or he, Luka supposed, despite the feminine look of the writing—was so eager to reassure. Luka tapped the note on his hand thoughtfully. Did this mean they were in one of the apartments adjacent to his? He supposed they could have heard him in the hallway, but the bit about the headphones suggested they were a direct neighbor. If they were that close maybe he should just go knock on the neighboring doors one of these days, if he could manage to drag himself out of bed at an hour where normal people were likely to be home.
He wondered suddenly if Pink Note Neighbor had ever actually knocked on his door. Their notes seemed cheerful and friendly, but people could be cheerful and friendly and still prefer to keep their distance, as he well knew.. Maybe the notes felt safer than a face to face interaction. He didn’t want to make his mystery neighbor uncomfortable. Maybe they didn’t actually want to meet him.
Or maybe they had tried, and he wasn’t home, or wasn’t awake. Luka sighed, annoyed at his own indecisiveness…but there was something nagging at the back of his mind, something about missed connections, so close but so far…maybe he should follow that thought. If Pink Note Neighbor liked his music, it might be the best thing he could do to say thank you while he figured out what he wanted to do about all this, if anything. And if his neighbor did want to say hello, at least they would know he was home.
He did check the time before he started, and set an alarm on his phone to make sure he wouldn’t be playing too late. He hadn’t been thinking about it last night and who knows who he had kept awake. Better to be careful, in case any of his neighbors were less forgiving than Pink Note Neighbor. He could always put on headphones if he was still in the zone when the timer went off.
***
Luka spent a lot of time working on new music for the next few days, and had to set alarms to eat and make sure he went out for a run or a bike ride before his body cramped up on him. Gradually he noticed his eyes seemed to have become particularly attuned to a particular shade of pink, turning his head when he passed flowers or a poster or anything with that baby pink color. He noticed it in the hallways of his apartment building too, on top of a box sitting outside one of the other apartments, or stuck in the doorframes, sometimes with little parcels attached. His next note actually came with a bag of rather lumpy looking cookies. “These didn’t turn out quite right, but they still taste good, so I hope you enjoy them!”
Luka did, and felt himself smiling like a dope as he did so. He played with his headphones off again that evening, trying out the new song he’d been working on. It was sounding pretty good, if he did say so himself.
The notes kept showing up for the next few weeks, farther apart now but just as random, often with baked treats attached. Luka was determined to find out who was, but he was running out of time.
It was time for his next road trip, and Luka was…not looking forward to it as much as he should be. He was excited to get back out there and put some of his new music in front of people, but he felt weird about leaving his new home for the first time.
And…he wanted to let Pink Note Neighbor know he would be gone. It felt weird to just disappear, but he wasn’t sure how to break this odd one-way communication they had going on. He’d noticed notes on other doors too, so it wasn’t as if PNN only came to him. He’d run into someone in the lobby carrying a pink envelope and had tried awkwardly to strike up a conversation with him, but the older man had been on his way out of the door and not particularly chatty, so all Luka had gotten for his trouble was “oh yeah, she’s a sweetheart, always looking out for people,” and a lingering feeling of embarrassment at his pathetic conversational skills. Luka wasn’t sure whether he felt regretful or relieved that he hadn’t managed to ask where PNN lived; if it was indeed a girl as the man had indicated, he probably would have looked weird trying to find out where she lived.
His problem remained, though; he had no idea who PNN was, and no way to let her know he was going to be out without advertising it to the whole hall at a minimum, which seemed like a bad idea. He slumped on one of the big pink cushions adorning his floor and pondered the problem. His eyes found his demo recording equipment, set up in a corner of his living room.
The next morning, uncharacteristically early, Luka carefully taped a blue envelope to the CD he’d made the night before. He got all his stuff together, piled it outside his door, and then closed and locked it, taking a deep breath as he did so and blowing it out slowly. Luka picked up his CD-envelope package, and started to place it in the center of his door. Then he paused, and moved it lower and closer to the right side, nearer where Pink Note Neighbor left their messages. Then he moved it a little lower, just in case. He didn’t know how tall PNN was or how far they reached up to place the notes. Better to be cautious. He pulled the tape out of his pocket and taped his message to the door, trying to make sure it was secure without going overboard. He’d written To Pink Note Neighbor in black marker on the front of the envelope.
Luka looked at it for a moment, hands nervously tapping his thighs, and then shook himself, turning to sling his guitar case on and pick up his duffel. He was going to have to find something to occupy his mind on the bus, he realized quickly, or he’d be fixated on wondering if PNN had gotten his message or not. He’d debated leaving his number, but ultimately caution won out. Luka had already had to change his private number several times and he really didn’t want to have to do it again. Probably PNN was fine, they seemed sweet enough, but just in case. It was better this way.
He dropped his head back to look up at the ceiling for a moment and sighed. It was going to be a long two weeks.
Or so he thought. Apparently the time off had dulled his memory, or his wits. The bus ride was a slog, but once they got to the first venue, Luka was almost too busy to breathe, let alone speculate on his mystery neighbor. There were moments on the bus between cities where his thoughts drifted to the note he’d left, but he almost always fell asleep before the thought could really take hold.
He was so tired when he dragged himself up the stairs of his apartment building that he wasn’t even thinking about Pink Note Neighbor, until he trudged up to his door and shouldered it open. The flutter of pink only just caught his eye as the note slipped to the floor, and Luka nearly tripped over himself trying to reverse his momentum to grab it. Swearing under his breath, he shoved his gear inside and picked up the delicate pink envelope, hastily brushing off the marks his shoe had left when he stepped on it. He only just caught himself before kicking the door shut; it was late—or early, depending on one’s perspective, and he didn’t want to wake all his neighbors. He shut the door gently, and then quickly opened the envelope.
He wasn’t sure what had originally been written on the note; the words had been well scratched out, and the handwriting beneath wasn’t as neat as usual. Rewritten against the door? How long had the note been there? He’d explained that he’d be out…Luka shook out his thoughts and looked at the only phrase still legible: “I’ll be there.” Luka let out a sigh and slumped down on the floor, suddenly realizing how tense he had gotten in the few moments it had taken him to look at the letter. He glanced at it again, and saw another note added near the bottom. “#3 was my favorite.” Luka chuckled.
“Mine too,” he murmured, and then dragged himself up with a groan. He dropped the card and envelope on the counter with the rest of his collection, and stumbled to bed, making sure to triple check his alarm before passing out.
***
Luka tried to remind himself as he walked to the T&S Bakery that he knew absolutely nothing about his mystery neighbor, and he shouldn’t be nervous. If he was lucky, he’d make a new friend. If he wasn’t, he’d buy them a coffee, make awkward small talk for half an hour, and go home and hide under his covers until he didn’t feel like dying of embarrassment anymore for being so incredibly wrong and his next hit song would be about shattered illusions and the stupidity of self-indulgent fantasies and he’d have to laugh awkwardly in interviews while trying desperately to avoid telling the truth of his inspiration.
Luka took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, acknowledging the thought and letting it go with his breath like his therapist had taught him.
He shrugged his shoulders slightly to resettle his leather jacket, and then pushed open the door.
Luka’s eyes flicked nervously over the customers, quickly dismissing the middle-aged couple looking in the pastry case, pausing on the redhead with a sketchbook leaning against one wall, and then settling on a dark-haired girl hovering near the counter, nervously fiddling with a familiar pink envelope.
His feet were moving before his mind had really caught up, and the girl turned towards him, blue eyes framed with dark lashes going wide as her perfect lips formed a little oh. Damn, she was pretty. Really pretty. He felt himself flush and his stomach went all wobbly.
“Um, hi,” Luka said. Well that would make a brilliant first impression.
“Oh my God, you really are Luka Couffaine,” she whispered.
Luka’s shoulders folded inward a little bit and he ducked his head without meaning to. “Yeah,” he said, sticking his hands in his coat pockets. “You figured that out, huh?”
She nodded, eyes still wide, fingers still pressed to her lips. “I did…sort of,” she said, tugging on a strand of hair. “I didn’t think it’d really be you, though, I mean—why would something like that happen to me? I mean…” She fluttered her hands vaguely. “A rock star moves in next door and I leave him all these stupid little note because I’m a spazz and I’m always in a hurry and I didn’t have time to catch you actually at home and—” She cut herself off, blowing out a frustrated breath, and then put her face in her hands and whined.
Luka’s shoulders fell back a little and he felt a smile tugging at his face. “I liked them,” he said, shrugging. “And my hours are always weird, so…I don’t know, it worked for me. But I did figure we should, you know. Meet in person at some point.” He gestured between them, and Pink Note Neighbor gave a breathy laugh.
“Yeah, I guess so. Well. Um, nice to meet you, Luka. I’m Marinette.” She put out a hand and shrugged awkwardly. “Although, you knew that already, I guess.”
“I didn’t, actually,” Luka grinned, taking her hand. It was tiny in his palm and he tried to squeeze reassuringly, but not roughly.
Marinette blinked at him. “You didn’t?”
It was Luka’s turn to shrug. “You didn’t sign the notes, so…”
Marinette’s eyes widened. “I didn’t? None of them?” She groaned, pulling her hand out of Luka’s to cover her face again. “Oh, why am I like this?”
Luka’s own hand went to cover his chuckle. She was funny, and something inside him lightened. So far nothing about Marinette was a disappointment. Far from it, actually. When she peeked over her hands he dropped his and grinned. “I’m glad to meet you too, Marinette.”
“Oh, Luka!” Luka glanced up, and saw Sabine coming in from the back as she wiped her hands with a towel. “It’s good to see you! It’s been a few weeks.”
“I was out of town,” Luka replied, turning to face her with a smile. He liked Sabine, she was chatty but not nosy, and she had a sweetness about her that made her easy to talk to. “I was hoping I could get a coffee and whatever my new friend here usually orders.” He nodded his head towards Marinette, and then did a double take as he looked back at her. Her face was turning quite red. “Marinette?”
“Just let me die,” she mumbled, and Luka frowned, but behind him, Sabine laughed.
“Oh, I see,” Sabine said, her voice taking on a teasing lilt. “You’re the neighbor Marinette was meeting this morning? That explains so much.”
“Mooom,” Marinette whined, and Luka blinked, looking back and forth between the two of them.
Sabine chuckled, and then spotted the redhead against the wall. “Oh, good morning Nathaniel! Did you want to pick up some pastries for the art club meeting?”
“Nah,” the redhead chuckled, grinning towards Luka and Marinette. “I’m just Marinette’s excuse to bail if she needed to, but it looks like she doesn’t need me.” He winked at Marinette, who flushed, and pushed himself off the wall to offer his hand to Luka. “Hi, I’m Nathaniel, and I hope Marinette appreciates how much I am not freaking out right now. I’m almost as big a fan of your music as she is.”
“Nath!” Marinette hissed.
Luka shook his hand awkwardly, a bit embarrassed. “Nice to meet you, Nathaniel. I’m glad you like my work.”
“Thanks for coming, Nath,” Marinette said, giving Nathaniel a little shove towards the door.
“Are you kidding?” Nathaniel grinned wickedly at her. “I wouldn’t have missed it. Marc and Alix are gonna rupture something when I tell them.”
Marinette groaned. “Do you have to?”
“Absolutely.” He raised the hand holding the sketchbook to give a quick wave. “See you at the next meetup. Good luck with your rock star.”
“ Nathaniel! ”
Laughing, Nath blew her a kiss as he backed out of the door.
Marinette sighed, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. “Sorry. We’ve been friends since we were kids. I just—I mean I didn’t—”
Luka put a hand on her shoulder before she could get too nervous again. “I get it. Smart to have backup. It’s nice that you have friends you can trust to watch out for you.”
Marinette gave him the first really genuine smile he’d seen. “Yeah, it really is. I’m still sorry for freaking out. I just, when I listened to your music, and then I was watching the livestream of your tour and I kind of connected the dots. Sorry if you didn’t want me to know.”
Luka shrugged uncomfortably, his hand leaving Marinette’s shoulder to rub through his hair. “It’s not that I didn’t want you specifically to know, I just...it’s getting a little hard to keep things private, and you never know with new people, how they’re going to react.”
“Well,” Sabine said, setting two steaming cups on the counter. “Marinette, why don’t you take your new friend to the park? It’s such a nice day.”
“Sure, Maman, that’s a great idea,” Marinette said, taking one of the cups. Sabine waved Luka off when he went to pay, and, blushing, he picked up his coffee and followed Marinette out of the door.
“Probably better this way,” Marinette said with a nervous giggle. “My dad can be a bit overbearing when I meet new people. Um, this way.” She steered him toward a crosswalk. “We should be able to find a spot that’s not too public. So you’re not…you know.” She gestured vaguely to her face. “Recognized. Sorry, I still can’t believe it’s really you.”
“Mm,” Luka said, turning the direction she indicated and lengthening his stride a little to keep pace with her quick step. He really wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t really gotten used to the idea that people who didn’t know him, knew him, and he wasn’t sure how much she knew or what she’d seen.
They found a bench and sat together, partially shielded by one of the fountains.
“So,” Marinette began brightly, and if she was a bit stiff Luka didn’t blame her. “How do you like the building?”
It wasn’t the question he expected, and he was glad to be sipping his coffee so he had a moment to reorient before he had to answer. “Can’t complain,” he shrugged with a smile. “It’s my first apartment so I don’t have much to compare to. It’s comfortable. Neighbors are friendly.” He shot Marinette a sideways grin and then hid behind his coffee again.
Marinette laughed a little too loud. “Yeah, um, sorry if it was too much. I just worry, you know, all the time, about like, everything, and I can’t help myself sometimes, trying to help out. I’m glad you didn’t think it was creepy, especially being…” she waved her coffee cup at him. “You know. You.”
Luka chuckled. “I’m not that famous,” he told her, a real smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m really only just starting to be known, so I’m still trying to figure all that stuff out. I liked the notes, they were nice. And thanks for the warning about the dryer.”
Marinette laughed, more genuinely this time. “I’m still so mad about that shirt!”
Luka grinned. “You’re a Jagged fan, huh?”
“Huge,” she said, gesturing with her hands. “I’ve been following his career since I was old enough to have taste. I’m his biggest fan.”
“Oh yeah? Wanna bet?”
They spent the next hour in a one-up contest that was more fun than Luka had had in weeks. Marinette wasn’t kidding, she was a fan, though ultimately Luka won their impromptu contest. The conversation turned to Luka’s music, and he was rather embarrassed when he realized he had been talking about himself for at least half an hour. Marinette was a sympathetic listener, understanding and apparently genuinely interested, and he hadn’t realized how much he had needed someone to listen. Luka made a mental note to call his sister soon and began an effort to pivot the conversation to Marinette. He listened to her talk about her day job and then, with considerably more enthusiasm, about the design business she ran in her off hours. They talked until Marinette’s phone beeped and she jumped up with an exclamation.
“I should get home,” she sighed, and smiled at Luka. “I have a project I’m supposed to be working on this afternoon and I need to get started. I had fun, though. I’m glad we could finally meet.”
“Me too,” Luka said, standing and tossing his long-empty coffee cup in the trash by the bench. “Your notes really brightened things up for me when I first moved in. I really appreciated them.”
“Oh, well,” Marinette blushed, and waved her hands vaguely. Luka gently plucked her empty cup out of her hands and threw it away as well as she sputtered about how it was nothing, really.
“Well,” he said, when she ran out of words. “Since we’re both going the same way. Can I walk you home?”
Marinette blinked at him for a moment, and then laughed. “I guess we are, aren’t we?” she giggled. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
Luka offered his arm. “So tell me about this project,” he said, as she took his arm and they turned towards home.
“Oh, well it’s…”
Their pleasant conversation continued all the way home, and Luka was sorry to say goodbye at Marinette’s door—though he was glad to finally know which one it was.
He perked up considerably when he found a new pink envelope on his door the next morning. The note inside asked if he’d like to have coffee again sometime—and it still wasn’t signed.