A distant noise woke Vanitas from an already light sleep. The rain hammering against the windowpane had been unrelenting, enough to transition from a lulling ambiance to a grating distraction, keeping him restless and awake far later than he had intended.
He blinked, the numbers of the alarm clock a red blur until his eyes focused…if it was nearing 6:30am already— 3:55am, thank fuck— he resettled into mattress, a relieving thought that he might be blessed with a couple more hours of sleep as he shut his eyes once again.
But life wasn’t that kind to him. No.
That noise again— a distinct ‘ca-chink,’ the scraping of metal on metal.
The wind probably knocked something against his door. He resettled, frustrated in his inability to change the weather.
And then…rustling. Unmistakably the forced turn of a doorknob, a snap…His eyes shot open. The emptiness of his apartment settling in, tiredness leaving his body in the form of adrenaline. Oh, was he awake now.
Of all the places to rob….what an unlucky idiot.
Vanitas slipped out of bed, his bare feet padding cautiously against the wood floor. He kept his body flush to the wall as he pulled the curtain back to peer out the window— unable to see much of anything beyond the shadow of a person…a woman, he thought. She looked…spineless; hunched over and making no headway on lockpicking anymore. Had she really come this far just to give up? He was almost disappointed. Almost.
Never one to be too cautious, Vanitas grabbed his keys off the dresser drawer on his way to the entrance, clutching at the small folding knife attached to its ring. Face to face with the front door, he paused a moment. The sensible thing to do: call 911. But when was he ever sensible. With his luck they’d dispatch Aqua anyways. He would rather this thief shoot him point blank between the eyes than have her come to his rescue.
The doorknob had stopped jangling entirely. Perhaps they’d realized the error of their ways. Coward.
With a steady breath, Vanitas slid the chain out of place, unhitched the deadbolt— the worsening rain drowning out every noise either of them could possibly make— and pulled the door open.
…What the hell kind of sick joke was this?
This thief was…about as threatening as a mouse. Soaked to the core and shaking, her black hair clung around her face and framed her wide eyes, akin to the expression of a child who’d stuck their hand down the cookie jar and got caught. As if he’d scared the shit out of her.
And still, he eyeballed her suspiciously. A glowering threat still lingering under the surface.
“If you’re trying to break into my place you’re doing a shit job at it.”
He took one look at her confused expression and put two and two together. Wrong apartment. What did she not know how to read? The tenseness in his body relaxed, the tiredness reentering him in the form of pure exasperation. He pointed to the number above the buzzer, a quick and condescending prod. Apartment 224. “Unless I’ve pissed off the landlord recently, I’m pretty sure I still live here.”
With the way she curled in on herself, Vanitas towered over her— until she straightened her back, putting them near eye to eye. The broken key clutched in her hand… “Ah, fuck.” …The rest of it jammed in his doorknob.
“How did you manage to—?” Vanitas huffed, forgoing the effort of dislodging the broken key from his door, “Forget it. I don’t care.”
The door opening was probably the last thing she’d been expecting. A thunder strike was more likely perceived than suddenly being faced with a disgruntled man with spiky black hair and a glare powerful enough to melt her on the spot. She was frozen, broken key clutched in her fist.
The way he spoke set her nerves on edge. She’d obviously woken him up from what had previously been a restful sleep. All rough and irritated. She felt her face flush as he continued to speak, almost burning as his eyes met the lock.
The shock was making her thoughts jumbled. It finally clicked. She was at the wrong apartment. She looked left of the door and sure enough. Door 222 was right there. As she was standing with a broken key at 224. The embarrassment and confusion she felt before was nothing to how she felt now. Her ears felt hot as the sting in her eyes intensified. She brought the broken key up to her chest, looking away from the man, as meeting his eyes would be too difficult, as well as needing to hide her face.
“I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, looking up briefly. “I- I thought it was my door and so i just- I just shoved the key in and- and it-” Her grip tightened around the metal as she shrank back from him. “I’ll pay for a new lock! I promise.” It was the least she could do. Money was always pretty tight, but locks weren’t that expensive, right? Surly she could cut back on a few non necessities and come up with the money.
But that still didn’t solve her ‘locked outside’ problem. She was still standing outside a strangers doorstep with a broken key. She supposed she could maybe crawl through a window? She’d have to break it though. And she definitely didn’t have the money for that. Thinking of, she wasn’t sure why she didn’t think of that earlier.
That still didn’t address the most immediate problem at hand however. She was still standing outside a strangers door, with a broken key jammed into their lock. With a few deep breaths, she managed to pull herself together enough to actually look at him without an immediate flush of embarrassment and guilt.
“i uhm. I can give you my number! To get a hold of me. To pay for the lock. That I broke. I’mstillsosorry.”
With a quick hand, she moved a sheet of hair back from her face and pulled out her phone with shaking hands, still frozen despite her heated face. Opening up the dial pad, she held the phone out to him with hurried motions. “Here. Just uhm. I’ll leave you alone after this. Out of your hair.”
She could just like. Walk around for an hour or so. Long enough for him to go to sleep. Then try the window thing. And if that didn’t work then there was her original plan. The bus stop or her job. Regardless, she’d already bothered this guy more than enough.
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