Chapter Text
The elevator was broken.
Giyuu Tomioka stood in the lobby of his new apartment building, staring at the hand-written "OUT OF ORDER" sign taped to the elevator doors, and felt what little remained of his optimism drain away like water through a sieve.
Four flights of stairs. Five boxes still in his car. A furniture delivery scheduled for this afternoon. And a bone-deep exhaustion that had nothing to do with physical exertion and everything to do with the past six months of his life.
One box at a time, he told himself, the same mantra he'd been using to get through each day since Sabito died. Just get through this. One box at a time.
He'd left everything behind in his old apartment. The place he and Sabito had shared since college, full of memories that had gone from comforting to suffocating in the span of a single phone call from the hospital. The furniture they'd picked out together, arguing about whether the couch should be grey or blue (Sabito had won — it was blue). The kitchen where Sabito had taught him to cook, patient and laughing even when Giyuu burned rice. The living room where they'd spent countless nights watching terrible movies and throwing popcorn at the screen.
All of it, left behind.
This was supposed to be a fresh start. A blank slate. A place where Giyuu could exist without constantly being reminded of what — of who — he'd lost.
The building was old but well-maintained, in a quiet neighbourhood twenty minutes from Kimetsu Academy where he'd be starting his new job on Monday. The rent was cheap enough that he could afford it on a teacher's salary. The previous tenant had left it clean.
It was perfect.
Except for the broken elevator.
Giyuu hefted the first box — books, heavy enough to make his arms shake — and started climbing.
He made it to the first landing before he had to stop and catch his breath. His stamina had gone to shit in the past few months. He used to run marathons with Sabito, the two of them training together every weekend. Now he could barely make it up a flight of stairs without feeling winded.
Pathetic, he thought, and immediately heard Sabito's voice in his head: You're not pathetic, you're grieving. Give yourself time.
But Giyuu was tired of giving himself time. Tired of being gentle with himself. Tired of people looking at him with pity in their eyes.
He wanted to be normal again. He just didn't know how.
Second floor. His legs were burning. The box was cutting into his forearms. He adjusted his grip and kept climbing.
Third floor. Halfway there. He could do this.
"You gonna stand there all day or actually move?"
Giyuu's head snapped up.
A man stood on the landing above him, clearly trying to get past. He was shorter than Giyuu but built like someone who spent serious time in the gym — all compact muscle and coiled energy. His white hair was slightly damp, like he'd just come from a shower, and his face was a roadmap of scars. Sharp purple eyes fixed on Giyuu with undisguised irritation.
He was also, objectively, extremely attractive.
Which was irrelevant.
"I'm moving," Giyuu said, his voice coming out flat and emotionless as always.
"Could've fooled me." The man pushed past him, shoulder checking Giyuu hard enough to make him stumble against the railing. "Jesus Christ, some of us have places to be."
Asshole.
Giyuu watched him jog down the stairs, taking them two at a time, before continuing his own painful ascent.
Fourth floor. Finally.
He found apartment 4C at the end of the hall, unlocked the door with the key the landlord had given him, and stepped inside.
The apartment was small. One bedroom, one bathroom, a combined living/dining area, and a kitchenette that had seen better days. The walls were beige. The carpet was beige.
Everything was aggressively, depressingly beige.
It was perfect.
Giyuu set down his box and allowed himself exactly thirty seconds to stand in the empty apartment and feel the weight of what he was doing.
New city. New job. New life.
Without Sabito.
The grief hit him like a wave, sudden and overwhelming, and Giyuu had to press his hands against the wall to keep himself upright. His chest felt too tight. His eyes burned. His throat closed up around a scream he wouldn't let out.
Breathe, he told himself. Just breathe.
He gave himself two minutes. Two minutes to fall apart in his new empty apartment where no one could see.
Then he pulled himself together, went back downstairs, and got the next box.
---
By the time the furniture delivery arrived at 2 PM, Giyuu had made six trips up and down the stairs and was seriously reconsidering every life choice that had led him to a fourth-floor walkup.
The delivery guys took one look at the broken elevator and the four flights of stairs and immediately doubled their fee. Giyuu paid it without argument.
They hauled up his bed, his desk, a small couch, and a bookshelf — all of it new, purchased online, nothing that carried memories. The bed was assembled quickly, the desk positioned under the window, the bookshelf against the wall. It looked like a showroom. Impersonal and sterile. Good.
After the delivery guys left, Giyuu spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking in blessed silence. By evening, the apartment was functional if not homey. Giyuu made instant ramen for dinner and ate it sitting on his new couch, staring at his blank walls.
His phone buzzed. A text from his sister.
Tsutako: Did you make it okay? Is the apartment nice? Do you need anything?
Giyuu: I'm fine. Apartment is fine. I don't need anything.
Tsutako: That's what you always say.
Giyuu: Because it's always true.
Tsutako: Giyuu. I know this is hard. Moving to a new city, starting over. But I'm here if you need to talk.
Giyuu: I know. Thank you.
Tsutako: I love you. Sabito would be proud of you for doing this.
Giyuu: I love you too.
He didn't address the Sabito part. He couldn't.
At 8 PM, as Giyuu was considering going to bed early just to escape the oppressive silence, he heard it.
"OI! IGURO! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!"
The voice came through the wall like a foghorn, loud enough to make Giyuu jump.
"GAME STARTS IN FIVE MINUTES! IF YOU'RE LATE I'M DRINKING YOUR BEER!"
Heavy footsteps. The sound of a door slamming. Multiple voices now, all loud, all talking over each other.
Giyuu stood up and walked to the wall that separated his apartment from 4B. He pressed his ear against it.
"—not yelling, this is just how I talk!"
"You're definitely yelling, Sanemi."
"I'M NOT YELLING! UZUI, DID YOU BRING THE CHIPS?"
"DO I LOOK LIKE THE KIND OF FLAMBOYANT INDIVIDUAL WHO FORGETS CHIPS?"
More voices. More laughter. The sound of a TV turning on at maximum volume.
Then the game started.
Giyuu didn't know what sport it was. He didn't care. All he knew was that his neighbour — Sanemi, apparently — was watching it with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for religious experiences.
"COME ON! COME ON YOU USELESS — YES! FUCKING FINALLY!"
A crash. Like someone had jumped on furniture.
"Sanemi, you're going to break your coffee table."
"I DON'T CARE! DID YOU SEE THAT SHOT?!"
Giyuu closed his eyes and counted to ten. Then twenty. Then thirty.
At 9 PM, it was still going strong. At 10 PM, Giyuu gave up on sleep and pulled out his laptop. At 11 PM, someone started singing karaoke. Badly. At midnight, Giyuu was seriously considering murder.
At 1 AM, he finally snapped.
He got up, walked into the hallway, and pounded on apartment 4B's door hard enough to hurt his knuckles.
The noise cut off abruptly. Footsteps approached. The door swung open.
Standing there, clearly drunk, holding a beer, was the asshole from the stairwell.
Of course. Of fucking course his neighbour was the same guy who'd shoulder-checked him this morning.
"Can I help you?" Sanemi asked, his words only slightly slurred.
Giyuu took in the scene behind him — three other men sprawled across a couch and floor, empty beer bottles everywhere, the TV still blaring.
"It's 1 AM," Giyuu said, keeping his voice carefully level. "Some of us are trying to sleep."
"So go to sleep."
"I can't. Because you're throwing a party."
"It's not a party, it's three guys watching a game."
"It sounds like twenty people are destroying your apartment."
"Well they're not. We're just enjoying ourselves." Sanemi leaned against the doorframe, clearly unbothered. "It's Saturday night. I'm allowed to have friends over."
"Not until 1 AM you're not. The building has quiet hours."
"Since when?"
"Since always. It's in the lease agreement you signed."
Sanemi's eyes narrowed. "You've been here one day and you're already complaining?"
"You've been unbearable for one day, yes."
"Unbearable? I'm just existing in my own apartment!"
"No, you're being inconsiderate and loud and—"
"And you're being an uptight asshole who probably calls the cops on kids for playing too loudly outside!"
The accusation stung more than it should have. Giyuu felt his jaw tighten.
"Just keep it down," he said, his voice cold.
"Or what?"
"Or I'll file a formal noise complaint with the landlord."
Sanemi laughed, sharp and mean. "Go ahead. Landlord doesn't give a shit. I've been
here three years. He's never done anything about noise complaints before."
"Then I'll call the police."
"For watching a game with friends? Yeah, that'll go over well."
They stared at each other, the air between them crackling with hostility.
"You know what?" Sanemi said, his voice dropping to something dangerous. "You seem like a real fun guy. I bet you're a blast at parties. Oh wait — you probably don't get invited to parties because you're too busy being a miserable prick."
The words hit harder than Giyuu expected. Maybe because they were partially true. Maybe because he was tired and emotionally raw and this was supposed to be his fresh start but it was already turning into a nightmare.
"Goodnight," Giyuu said, turning away.
"Yeah, run away. That's what I thought."
Giyuu made it back to his apartment, closed the door, and stood there with his fists clenched.
The noise resumed almost immediately. Louder than before, if that was possible. Spite, apparently, was a powerful motivator.
Giyuu grabbed a piece of paper and a pen.
‘Your noise level tonight was unacceptable. I understand it's the weekend, but 1 AM is excessive regardless of the day. The walls in this building are thin, and your lack of consideration for those around you is appalling. Please be more mindful in the future.’
He slid it under the door and went back to his apartment.
At 2 AM, the apartment next door finally went quiet. At 2:30 AM, Giyuu heard Sanemi's door open.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
A knock on Giyuu's door. Sharp. Aggressive. He opened it.
Sanemi stood there, holding Giyuu's note, looking furious despite the obvious alcohol in his system. "What the fuck is this?" Sanemi waved the paper. "You wrote me a note?
Like a passive-aggressive little — You want to complain, you come talk to me like an adult. You don't slide notes under my door like we're in middle school."
"I did talk to you. You dismissed my concerns."
"Because they're ridiculous!"
They were both shouting now, loud enough that other doors in the hallway started to open. An elderly woman stuck her head out down the hall.
"Both of you shut up!" she yelled. "Some of us are trying to sleep!"
Sanemi had the grace to look slightly ashamed. Giyuu felt his face heat.
"Sorry, Mrs. Yamamoto," Sanemi muttered.
She glared at both of them and slammed her door.
"This isn't over," Sanemi said quietly. "Clearly."
Sanemi turned and walked back to his apartment, closing the door with deliberate care instead of slamming it.
Giyuu went back inside and stood in his empty living room, heart racing with adrenaline he didn't know what to do with.
This was day one. He was already at war with his neighbour. Perfect.
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A/n - Sorry, I don't usually write author notes or anything, rather than dumping this all in one go like I usually do, I'm going to scatter it throughout the week because I have some things that are happening, enjoy the suspense dear readers. Sorry again.