Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

There’s truly nothing Grian hates more than a new neighbor.

He’s had far too many in the past to count. They come in, cause a disturbance to his day-to-day life, and then get kicked out a few months later. Every person who moves in next door seems to be perpetually bound to making as much trouble for that floor's residents as possible. It’s always something new, and always something far more infuriating than the last. Grian has honestly come to believe there’s been some sort of a curse placed on the apartment next to his, because nothing good ever comes from a new neighbor.

His life has been plagued for almost two years now by late parties, obnoxious music, and stupid pets.

But seriously, the always-affected man grumbles internally at the sight of the Uhaul pulling up to the street running beside his window, who in the world decides to move into such a small apartment with a great dane of all things.

A small part of Grian’s mind wonders if this new neighbor could be any different. He craves the solace of a neighbor he isn’t constantly at odds with, but the doubt trickles back into his mind at the thought of his recent luck. This next neighbor is bound to be even worse, logically. There’s no point in even giving them half a chance.

Grian doesn’t even catch a glimpse of the offending newcomer as they step out of the van, opting to shut his curtains and turn on his heel to face the rest of his room. It needs tidying, as always, but he hasn’t been able to find the motivation in himself to even begin as of late. A heavy sigh leaves Grian’s tired body as he rolls onto his bed, pulling his phone from his pocket and navigating to his text messages habitually.

He pauses for a second, considering phrasing, but settles on being as transparent as possible. He might as well, considering he’s talking to his closest friend.

You
new neighbors moving in.

Grian doesn't elaborate. He doesn’t have to elaborate. He has bugged poor Mumbo with his gripes and groans about neighbors since the first incident. Ever since the beginning of his stroke of terrible luck, Mumbo has been there to listen and offer supportive, but unhelpful, advice at every twist and turn.

Sometimes, Grian just needs to complain, and Mumbo doesn’t mind listening.

Mumbo
Oh no is it bad already? What’re they like?

Mumbo’s concerned text comes barely a minute after Grian’s first message, once again proving the sheer reliability of Grian’s closest friend.

You
no. nothing yet.
i just know theyre bound to be terrible again.
considering my luck

Mumbo
Grian, try to think of the positives
They could be really nice! You never know!

You
haha, good one mumbo, me having a pleasant neighbor

Mumbo
Really! I’m serious!
Just promise me you’ll try to talk to them at least once

Grian pauses before responding, considering his options. On one hand, he’s got nothing to lose, and humoring his best friend would be a more useful waste of his time as opposed to sitting here and grumbling like an angry little bump on a log. But on the other hand, this could be another terrible neighbor, and he might as well postpone the inevitable. Considering there’s really nothing else he can do to stop it.

Mumbo
Please?

Grian sighs.

You
ok ok
ill talk to them ONCE
but if i hate them im not doing it again

Mumbo
Deal

Grian turns his phone off and squeezes his eyes shut. He sits up from his bed, preparing to stand, but motivation refuses to grant him motion. So he sits.

The sun is beginning to set, golden light dimming to a softer hue that fills his cramped room with a warm glow. The rays are captured nicely around the edges of a water glass left on Grian’s nightstand, evidence of another poor night’s rest.

As pretty as the setting sun may be, it causes the man to pause for a moment. Why in the world would someone choose to begin moving in this late in the day. Most new residents begin hauling their various belongings up the four flights of stairs–four very important flights of stairs, as the apartment’s elevator always seemed to be under some sort of repair–at a much earlier time in the day. It only seems logical, Grian assumes, to get it over with quickly so you at least have some semblance of a livable room by the time you decide to sleep.

With this new person’s start time, they’ll be lucky to have gotten half their things upstairs before daylight fully expires.

Grian scoffs at the stupidity. What kind of idiot would mess up moving so badly their chances of success are almost nil before they’ve even begun?

Just then, he hears a thud ring out from the hallway. The thin walls do nothing to muffle the sound, and Grian can distinctly make out the crash of pots and pans.

“Well darn it,” A male voice follows the sound. Grian’s breath stops. It’s them. “Why’d I have to go and do that.”

A faint sigh can be made out from the hallway, before presumably the sound of those same pots and pans being wrangled back into whatever box they escaped from.

Grian does everything he can to ignore the fact that he’s clearly trying to focus on the negatives, and chooses to focus on the negatives instead.

A clumsy neighbor. His shoulders droop, just as they’ve been grasping for even a shred of a reason to do so since that stupid Uhaul first dared to appear. Of course I’d be stuck with a clumsy neighbor. He’ll probably find a way to break something, something just random enough it won’t be fixed right away, but just important enough it’ll be a constant bother.

Grian’s thoughts meander about for quite a while whilst he spirals further in his doubt. Some logical part of his brain is fully aware of the stupidity of his current train of thought. But that part is quickly drowned out by the sirens blaring from everywhere else.

By about the time his brain has begun fantasizing every possible way one could trip through a wall and manage to cut the power in its entirety from the building, Grian is snapped out of his thoughts by a sound. The culprit makes itself wildly apparent as his phone dings for a second time. Grian shakes his head and picks the device up once again, checking to see if it was anything worth his time.

Mumbo
So?
How are they?

Grian pauses, remembering his initial intention before his mind had diverted all form of movement to his brain cells bouncing around at record panicking speed. He was supposed to talk to that new stupid clumsy person. Grian groans out loud and massages his temples with his fingers. After another second, Grian’s phone is back in his hand, and a response is on its way to Mumbo.

You
terrible.

Mumbo
Really??? You’re entirely sure of this??

You
yes. fully.

Mumbo
What did they say?

You
oh i didnt talk to him.

Mumbo
Then how do you know they’re awful!

You
he was loud. and clumsy.

Mumbo
Really, Grian? That’s all?
You seriously didn’t even talk to him

You
yes, and i dont plan to.

Mumbo
Okay, I’m not going to argue with you, but you
should at least try to make some sort of actual
conversation.

Then there’s a pause, nobody says anything for a while, Grian having given up, and Mumbo thinking through Grian’s previous words.

Mumbo
Wait, how do you know he’s loud and clumsy if you
didn’t talk to him?

You
he dropped some pans in the hallway.

Mumbo
Oh grian, you can’t actually think that’s that much of
an issue.
You know damn well how many stairs it takes to get
to your floor. Pretty much anybody would drop pans
they were carrying in that situation.

You
i wouldn’t have

Mumbo
Grian, give them a chance
An actual chance
Please?

Grian rolls his eyes. He’s given so many new neighbors a chance, and it never works out. This one has no cause to be any different. He might as well just prepare for the inevitable and avoid getting his hopes up.

He stands up. It may be late, but if this new neighbor is going to be moving in all night, caffeine really couldn't do Grian any harm. He's gotten used to not sleeping anyways.

Grian finds the small kitchen in a matter of a few steps, his apartment so cramped that the room is basically in his bedroom. The kettle is right in the cabinet where it was left, Grian snatching it up and beginning his task almost robotically. The mindless activity leaves his thoughts wide open to spiral once more, and try as he might, the small man can't seem to keep his thoughts from going bigger and bigger.

Surely, Grian’s mind whispers amongst the chaos, this neighbor ought to burn down the apartment complex. Send everything you own up into a blaze while you're at work, and you won't be able to do anything to stop it.

Well, now his mind is just targeting his constant sense of helplessness.

As the water is set to boil, Grian leans back on the counter behind him, hands coming up to smooth out his rumpled red sweater. He lets out yet another heavy sigh, and the tension melts from his frame along with the movement. He glances around at his meager apartment, ever the tiny little thing, and thinks of his possibilities. He could move to a different apartment complex, but that would require money, something the author didn't have a lot of. His first book of his series, Third Life, had done well enough to support him, but not all too well. With the release of his second book, Last Life, Grian is sure to have a bit more money, and probably a decent chance of getting a better apartment. An apartment without his roulette of a neighbor situation. The issue with that is that his second book is nowhere near done, and after that there's publishers to deal with and-

Knock knock

Grian freezes. If he just pretends he's not home, maybe they'll go away.

The second this brilliant plan pops into his head, however, the tea kettle manages to have the perfect timing to whistle, thus giving away his presence. Grian sighs and walks over to retrieve the object in question.

“What do you want?” He snaps at the door, in effort to shorten this conversation as much as possible.

“Well hello there! I'm your new neighbor, Scar, and I was just wondering if I could meet you! I'm just about done bringing my stuff up here, boy those stairs are awful, that elevator needs repaired ASAP.”

Grian holds in a laugh as the man continues talking.

“Anyways, I thought it would be nice to meet you? Maybe talk a bit?” The man, Scar, sounds hesitant in his wording, but Grian doesn't care. As nice as this man may seem, he's bound to be terrible, he just knows it.

“I'm actually busy right now,” Grian considers tacking a sorry onto the end there, but refrains for the sake of maintaining distance. There's a pause from the other side of the door before the voice returns.

“Oh, okay. That's fine, no problem.” He clears his throat. “Well, I'll just, leave you to it, then. Talk to you later!”

The sound of footsteps retreating fills the room in absence of other sound. Grian huffs. His only thoughts are of how infuriating that man was, as he takes his tea with him back to his bedroom. He pushes away the warmth that calming voice brought to his mind, nimbly avoiding any false hope that could flood his mind in an instant.

Grian's phone still lays on his bed, right where he left it. He could text Mumbo back, tell him he had a brief, but pleasant conversation with the new man. No, he corrects himself, an unnecessarily annoying conversation.

His hand reaches for the device, but stops midway. He pulls back in favor of sitting in silence, gently holding his tea in his lap as he pulls one leg up onto the bed with him.

Grian stares out the window. His phone dings once more, but he ignores it. The sun is behind the trees fully now, urging him to turn on his bedside lamp, but he still makes no movement to do so.

He just sits there, wondering what the issue with this new person could be. Where a flaw could be found. He ignores the fact that he can't seem to find anything.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Scar was getting tired of stairs. So, so many stairs. Enough stairs to make his legs ache rather intensely as he sits down on the bed of his new apartment. The drive from his old place to here had taken him all day in that cramped little van.

But now, finally, boxes litter the floor in odd little stacks to be sorted out later. It had taken a while, but Scar was simply glad he was able to get them all upstairs before it was too terribly late.

If he could've started earlier in the day, he would've in a heartbeat, but that just wasn't possible. The late start meant his things were just now all in his room, as the sun was setting. His eyes are torn from the tiny window in his new bedroom as movement next to him catches his eye.

“Hi Jellie!” He smiles as the cat leaps to be next to him, turning around in an effort to find a more comfortable position. Scar brings his hand up to scratch behind her ear. “This is our new home! What do you think?”

The cat meows politely in response. Scar takes that as his answer, smiling as she makes her way from his side to his lap.

“Yeah, I like it too.”

He sighs.

“Jellie, I don't feel like unpacking my boxes yet.”

Scar's hands run gently down the gray cat's soft back as he starts to think. Gray and white fur rumbles beneath his touch, the gentle sound of purring filling the formerly silent room.

“You're right, I should go over and meet the person next door. I've always wanted a nice neighbor!” He stands abruptly, startling Jellie off of his lap. His hands make their way swiftly to his hips, accompanied by a sharp inhale and a major improvement in posture. Scar rocks back and forth on his feet, and then turns around to face the bed. Jellie is now on the floor, looking up at Scar with a puzzled expression. Scar bends over to give her one last pat on the head, before turning out the door of his new, but rather cramped, bedroom.

“Okay Jellie, you wait here, I'm gonna go make a friend.”

She stares up at him, blinking, not understanding, but appreciating the excitement in her owner’s tone. Scar doesn’t see this however, as he’s already in the doorway pulling on his shoes.

The door closes behind Scar with a dull thud. It lacks the satisfying slam he had been expecting, but the man doesn’t let that bother him, instead focusing on the task at hand.

The room to the right of his apartment had been shut the entire time Scar was moving his boxes upstairs, and he had never seen anyone enter or leave. Logically, one would assume that nobody was home, but Scar chooses to believe his new neighbor-slash-best-friend is just having a relaxing day in.

Knock knock

His knuckles rap against the door just hard enough to emit a sound, not terribly annoying, but definitely audible throughout the room. For a minute, Scar hears nothing. The room must be empty, as no one seems to have heard him. He raises his hand to knock a second time, just in case, when the ear-splitting whistle of a kettle rings out.

So there is someone home!

Scar smiles, delighted.

“What do you want?” A somewhat higher pitched voice barks. The man in the apartment seems to be on an extremely short fuse, but Scar doesn’t seem to notice the shortness in his tone.

“Well hello there!” Scar begins with his signature greeting. “I’m your new neighbor, Scar, and I was just wondering if I could meet you!” The other man makes no move to further the conversation, so Scar takes matters into his own hands. “I’m just about done bringing my stuff up here, boy those stairs are awful, that elevator needs repaired ASAP.”

Silence continues to drag itself through the ever-thickening air.

“Anyways, I thought it would be nice to meet you? Maybe talk a bit?” Scar’s initial confidence begins to wear off, but he refuses to give up. He waits for a response, any sign of life at all, hopefully in the form of an invitation to come inside and meet the man-

“I’m actually busy right now.” Scar’s hopes plummet from the clouds. That was not the expected response.

“Oh, okay. That’s fine, no problem.” Scar pauses, feeling increasingly awkward due to the refusal of the other man to make any sort of conversation. He clears his throat, shakes his head, and continues. “Well, I’ll just, leave you to it, then. Talk to you later.”

Scar lingers for a moment, awaiting a goodbye of some sort, or really just any form of acknowledgement from the other, but nothing comes. He turns back to his apartment and retreats.

The door shuts gently behind him, once again lacking a satisfying sound, but Scar doesn't really care right now. He glances around at his apartment full of boxes, and decides that needs to change. He kicks off his shoes, and strides over to the kitchen island.

His apartment door opens right into his kitchen, so quite a few boxes have made their way onto the counters while he was moving his things. The living room lays to his left, boxes much fewer, but still present. His apartment had come with a couch and TV, so at least he didn't have to carry those up.

He turns around to the other counter, next to the stove, and begins sorting through a box in an attempt to figure out where it belongs. It turns out to be full of kitchen utensils. The kitchen is rather bare, and with Scar being someone who loves to cook, that is something that needs changed immediately.

Before he begins however, he remembers something. Scar pulls his phone out of his pocket, dials a number, and sets it on top of a nearby box. The tone rings for only a few moments before his call is answered.

“Scar! How's your new apartment?” Scar smiles at the long-awaited sound of his mother’s voice.

“Pretty amazin’! I’m just unpacking my stuff now!” He turns towards the drawers with a handful of cooking devices, spatulas, whisks, the like.

“BDUBS!!” Scar jumps slightly at Cleo’s abrupt change in volume. “YOUR BROTHER’S ON THE PHONE!”

Scar’s younger brother, Bdubs, must’ve been over at their mother’s for dinner. Scar briefly wonders why he hadn’t been invited, but quickly comes to the conclusion that they simply just didn’t want to bother him while he was moving in. His new apartment is still within easy driving distance of his mother’s house, honestly closer than his apartment from before, so he reminds himself to make plans soon.

The sound of rapid footsteps gets louder until an out of breath Bdubs yells “SCAR!”

“BDUBS!” Scar returns the enthusiasm, happy to hear his brother’s voice as well. “How are ya buddy?”

“I should be asking you that!”

Scar laughs as he reaches for another box, this one containing some rather pesky pots and pans.

“I’m doing pretty good, lotta boxes to unpack!”

“How’s the new place? Everything you expected?”

“It’s pretty awesome, Jellie seems to like it quite a lot, so I automatically approve!” The gray cat in mention nuzzles up to Scar’s leg, passing through the kitchen on her way to the new couch. Possibly in hope of snacks.

Scar laughs.

“Actually, she’s right here waiting for her dinner, say hi Jellie!”

Jellie does not say hi. Scar shakes his head and widens his smile.

“I actually have to feed her, one sec. Anything new with you guys?” He rummages around in the box he swears he put the cat food in. No dice.

“No not really,” Cleo stretches the ‘e.’ “We were just having dinner, I think Bdubs was doing something in his old room, I’m not really sure.”

“Yeah Scar, we wanna hear about what you’re up to!”

“Hm, well, I tried to talk to my new neighbor,” Cleo makes a sound of intrigue. “But he wasn’t very… Nice. Maybe he was just in a bad mood, I can always try again!”

“That’s the spirit!” Bdubs cheers. “Bother ‘em ‘till he gives in!”

“Bdubs!” Their mother interjects. “Scar, don’t bother the man so badly he hates you.” She sighs. “But I mean, I suppose you can bother him a bit.”

“Thank you mom, I’ll try to keep my neighbor from hating me.”

“Good,” A brief silence is broken quickly as she adds, “And you’re coming home to see me on Friday evening, right?”

Scar smiles. “Of course! I’d love nothing more than to see my amazing mother.”

“D’awww you guys are the cutest.” Bdubs pauses. “Oh shoot, mom, I gotta go if I wanna get home in time, sorry.”

“That’s okay Bdubs, I should probably let Scar get back to his unpacking anyways.”

“Okay, bye mom! Bye Bdubs!”

“Bye kids!”

Cleo ends the call.

“Ah! There it is!” Scar slips the phone pack into his pocket as his eye catches a tin of cat food, buried under all sorts of other things.

“Jellie!” The cat returns quickly, acting all sweet for the meal she knew Scar was holding. “Here you go Jellie,” The can opener had been in the box Scar had unpacked earlier, so all he was missing now was Jellie’s dish. After a quick attempt at a search, Scar gives up and sets down the now open can. Jellie rushes to the food, and Scar throws away the lid of the can.

He returns to unpacking as the setting sun’s gentle light makes its way through the doorway of his room into the kitchen.