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Summary
He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, imagining the notes he heard earlier are from a residual dream. He opens his eyes, and, nope. The music is still there. Notes of a song he could never forget clear as the confusion in his head. That is to say, they’re really not very clear. The more he strains to comprehend what the fuck is actually going on, the more he understands.
Understands that what he’s hearing is piano keys, not a record of a song.
Understands that whoever is playing the piano is really not very good at it, hesitance heard before each press of the key.
Understands that his fucking neighbour is waking him up at – he fumbles with his phone on his bedside - 7:30 in the morning by playing Aladdin songs on a piano. Badly.Or-
Louis has moved into his new apartment to start his new job as a teacher. Things would be great. If only his arsehole neighbour didn't wake him up every morning by playing piano.
Shenanigans ensue. Like a very inadvisable kissing bet.