My Hopeless Crush on the Neighbor #1
I must confess I am quite remiss in my duties of updating this blog in a timely fashion. I’d intended to update every Friday but alas, life has gotten ahead of me and I’ve been quite unable to. You see, I came down with--
...I don’t know what I take you all for. You’re not a stupid group of people. You’re all quite intelligent from what I’ve been able to spectate (granted, that’s not a lot, but you get the point--)
But to be totally, honestly fair, I just haven’t been updating simply because I just haven’t been able to.
Let me tell you why. And it’s got nothing to do with the dumb ghost living in my house.
You see, I live in a pretty modest apartment complex, and aside from the whole haunted thing, it is really nice. The spot is nice, the apartment itself is nice, and really, the people around me aren’t noisy at all.
In fact, I am particularly fond of one of the neighbors.
Okay, perhaps more than a little fond. He’s quite lovely from what I’ve seen of him.
…
Yes, he’s cute.
Yes, I said he. Did I never mention that? I have an affinity to both genders. Biromantic, if you will.
Right.
Though I’ve never actually spoken to him on a one-on-one fashion, he’s been nothing but pleasant in every interaction I’ve had with him. There are days where I actually leave my apartment, though they are very few and far between, and on one such day of returning to my apartment, I stumbled upon him in the hallway.
Now, let me exposition a bit. Picture this--a full head of silky black hair, the brightest smile you’d ever seen in your whole life, eyes the color of melted chocolate, with a body to die for. He was sculpted like some sort of Greek God, so lovely that the first time I saw him, I had to do a brief, discreet double take.
We locked eyes in the hall, me, of course, covered from nearly head to toe. I had foregone my mask that day, which, at the time I thought was a great tragedy because so many people had breathed on me that day that I still shudder to think about it. So when we locked eyes, he could actually get a good look at my face, unlike most.
I’ll be the first to admit my self esteem isn’t the highest. I’m a fraction awkward in stature--I’m scrawny and pale and I probably don’t look like I fit my skeletal structure at all, so needless to say I was embarrassed about such a beautiful man looking at me of all things.
But then he had smiled at me, and I swear, it looked like the sun. Blinding and vibrant and disgustingly brilliant that I actually smiled back instead of being mortified because I’d been seen by another human.
“Hi,” he said, in a deep, yet soothing voice. It was almost like listening to music, I swear. This guy had the vocal chords of a professional opera singer or something. So sweet and melodious, and I could tell by that one single word.
Of course, me being the awkward, one-legged pigeon I tend to be, I couldn’t even squeak out a grunt of response. I simply nodded at him before I locked myself into my apartment again, slamming the door a little louder than necessary.
I thought he’d probably think I hated him after that, when in fact it was quite the opposite.
I know all of this seems awfully off track from the ghost problem, but don’t worry. Sam comes back. Just not yet. Be patient, okay?
It all ties together, really.
But back to my neighbor. My tragically handsome neighbor. So after that first meeting with him, I felt awful for not even really acknowledging him, but what could I do? I was too scared to go over and extend a hand of friendship to him, either metaphorically or physically, one of which made me more uncomfortable than the other. So I just resigned myself to suffering in the eternal agony of my failed attempt to make contact with the outside world.
Again.
Oh, that’s another story. Ignore that.
Sam hadn’t cropped up in a few days, but that didn’t even lower my stress levels, because my stress levels were perpetually high. Mostly due to me beating myself up compulsively over my neighbor.
So in one particular bout of stress and nerves, gnawing at me, I heard a knock at my door. My first reaction had been my always reaction, to simply ignore it until the visitor went away, but this particular knocker was insistent.
I went to the peephole, and there on the other side of the door, was my neighbor.
I cracked the door, only allowing the smallest amount of space visible for me to see. Mentally and physically preparing myself for social interaction, I spoke the word that I’d been trying to say to him the whole time. “Hello?”
It was more of a question than a greeting at the time, but my neighbor seemed to take it well. I hadn’t noticed it up until that point but in my neighbor’s hands was some sort of plate, or dish, or something covered in tin foil.
“Hi,” my neighbor said, with his smooth, alluring voice. “I’m Mark. I live across the hall?”
“Oh,” I said, and I really sort of hate myself for how dejected I managed to sound. Looking back on it, I probably seemed incredibly antisocial, and I am, don’t get me wrong, but that wasn’t the impression I was trying to give off. “Cool.”
Cool. I literally said cool. Gosh darnit, I had one chance to be the cool, elusive guy across the hall and I had said the most uncool thing ever. Typical me.
Felix would kick me if he could see me now.
…
Yeah. But Mark, undeterred, continue to try and engage in conversation with me. My rational side told me that he was just being friendly and that he was just trying to introduce himself, as any good neighbor would.
I’d like to inform you all that my rational side does not dictate my brain. My irrational side does.
And my irrational side was telling me to slam the door in his face and hide.
So guess what I did?
...
Yeah. I did.
Fuck my life.
Yours, Fidget