Signed /Dream Team/

2

I blink. I was sure that he was one of the previous owners or maybe someone responsible for the house. But now I don't think any of those thoughts matched the reality.

"Your house?" I raise a brow, confused.

"Yes. Our house," he nods, looking as ignorant as his voice sounds, "I don't know who the fuck you are, how the fuck you got in, and why the fuck you almost blinded me, but I am this close to calling the police cause I've had enough of your shit."

I frown at him, confusion building up inside me the more he speaks, "I don't think I would have the keys to your house." I take the keys out and show them to him.

"And I don't think I would have the signed papers of this house if it wasn't mine," for a second he starts to speak normally. But then again, he becomes extremely hostile and eventually loses it completely, "you know what? I don't need to explain anything. You're probably a fucking creep that mugged my friends and stole the keys- you're probably planning to kill me or some shit, y-you know what? I don't even care. I don't fucking care! You're welcome to do anything you want. Yeah! feel yourself at home! As if I fucking care!"

I narrow my eyes from confusion, trying to process his behavior. But there's absolutely nothing to process. He's batshit crazy.

"I have the signed papers too, let me get them quickly and see what's wr-"

"What are you even talking about!? Can't I live in peace? Even here? I'm so fucking tired, just fuck off already!"

My jaw falls to the ground as I watch the stranger throw a temper tantrum right infront of my eyes and lose it completely. I can't tell if he's crying because of how red and swollen his eyes already were to begin with from the hairspray incident, but I can tell he's about to have a breakdown.

"Uh...are you okay-" I start with a low voice which gets cut off by a loud thud. He slams his hand on the counter.

"Don't fucking talk to me."

My brain is blocked at this point. I stare at him in awe, as he takes in a sharp breath and passes me swiftly, going towards the room he was originally in, entering it and slamming the door as if I didn't exist.

I stand there motionless for a few seconds.

"What the fuck." I mouth, even though no one is here to see or hear me. I think it's reasonable to talk to myself in a situation like this. I'm the only conscious human being in this house at the moment after all.

Not bothering to process what just happened, I immediately grab my phone to call the landlord. And once again I understand how dumb I am to have not saved the person's number. Now I need to call all of these random numbers until I hit the jackpot. And besides, I don't even think the landlord uses his old number anymore. He was leaving the country, so I need to find the piece of paper he gave me with the new number I have to contact.

I sigh, collapsing on the sofa with so much frustration that was enough to wipe out the pre-existing thoughts in my head. I close my eyes and try to perform the breathing exercise I learned from a video years ago. Then I remember that the only thing I am ever able to remember is how bad my memory is. In other words, I forgot how the breathing exercise went.

I'll just take deep breaths.

And maybe go get the door cause someone is knocking. Who the hell is knocking anyway?

I hesitantly get up and make my way there, forgetting that the door wasn't even locked and attempting to open it with the key that was still inside the lock. It's pointless and does nothing. But at least it makes me realize how much of an idiot I am once again.

I open the door, too stressed to check who's behind it beforehand. In the worst-case scenario, it's this guy's twin brother. Which I don't think is that probable.

Slowly the door opens, revealing a brunette with an oversized hoodie. He's around my height, maybe two or three inches taller. And he's... extremely pretty. The only thing I can concentrate on is his face, even though there is a whole living creature in his arms. A small cat to be exact.

"Uhm.." looking at me he blinks, taking a step back and checking the apartment number once again, "Uhh, sorry, I must have gotten the wrong house--"

"Are you looking for your friend?" I cut him off and then process his accent. Even his accent is beautiful.

"Yeah..?" He's more confused than I am, which is a high level of confusion if I do say so myself.

I quietly step aside and offer him to come inside with a simple hand motion. He furrows his brows and puts the cat on the floor (which immediately runs towards the living room as if it was trying to escape from him for an eternity). Coming in, the guy looks at me, parts his mouth, and speaks.

"What's going on? Who are you?" And then immediately, he takes hesitant steps, "Clay?" 

His voice is higher now as he calls for someone: the name could belong to his friend with anger issues or his cat. And judging by the lack of reaction, I think Clay was the cat.

Now I'm known for my extraordinary skills in dealing with animals. They love me. And I think this is the best moment to show off.

I get on my knees as I look at the cat, tap my fingers on the floor, and call out its name loud and clear as if I named it myself.

"Clay~ come here, Clay! Pspspsppss."

This is the first time my skills have betrayed me. The cat didn't move a muscle. Yet the owner did. And he moved multiple muscles.

"Wha- what the fuck?" He furrows his brows, confusion taking over his features. And then he laughs. For whatever reason, he starts laughing nervously, "Who are you? Where is he? Is he okay?"

"I- I.. he's in the room, uhm, I think he's okay, he's just a bit.. angry," I stutter my way through the sentence, "And I was supposed to be living here..? I rented this apartment, but like, I don't know, seems like there's some type of an issue-"

While I'm trying to speak like a toddler with speech issues, the door opens once again and another one comes in. I look back to look at him and can't help but wonder how many more of them is left.

I'm starting to think I rented a hostel.