The Delinquent Next Door

Strange Encounter

All Hanma wanted was to be able to pass the time with a couple of beers he had snagged from the shitty, run down convenience store around the corner near his apartment complex.

Kisaki hadn't called him up to take part in another one of his adventurous schemes that he had planned for tonight, so he decided to take the opportunity to relax and just wait for him to call him out in the confines of his small, shaggy apartment. But, that plan immediately went to shit after he had performed an entire body search on himself for the past half hour for the one thing that was keeping him from entering his apartment.

Just fucking peachy.

Cursing under his breath, Hanma continues to aggressively search his soaked hoodie and jeans for his keys.

Just where the hell could they be? I could've sworn I left with them...

Then, he pauses, and in that moment, realization slapped him across the face.

Before he had went to the convenience store, he had saw the chance to pick a fight with a few small fry gangsters that were nearby. The reason behind it? Simple. He was bored. And, while doing so, it had started to pour, but, of course, that didn't stop him.

However, it didn't occur to him at the time that there was a possibility that he could've dropped his keys while he was having a field day with the poor souls that happened to 'stumble' across his way.

After all, he couldn't just go home without having a little bit of his own fun. Wreaking havoc was something that he needed, so his life didn't feel as dull as a rock.

Picking fights was the same as eating and sleeping in his mind.

Anyone who took a glance at him, let alone witnessed the way he would walk around with his clothes that were occasionally decorated with small blood splatters as well as coupled with his bloody knuckles, would know right off the bat that the word 'peaceful' didn't exist in his world. That included his next door neighbor.

However, the current question remaining was how he was supposed to get inside without his keys.

Guess I'm just gonna have to kick the door open.

Sure, instead of busting down the door like the heathen he is, he could just ask the landlady for the spare keys to his door.

But, then he'd have an earful of the old hag's nagging, and that's the last  thing he needed to add to his night. Besides, there wasn't anyone around to scold him for it, so it was the perfect chance to bust down the door without getting reprimanded in the process.

Huffing, he lets the plastic bag he had slinked around his wrist drop to the floor with a heavy thud. He plants his left foot down, while he readies his right foot to kick the door. Lifting his right foot up, he shifts all his weight into his leg, forcing his foot forward as he lands the first kick against the door. He repeats the action for a few minutes, until he sees a slight crack in the opening, but not enough to completely open it.

Another one should do it.

Before he could kick the door again, he stops mid-way when he hears a familiar voice ring in his ears.

"Excuse me."

His body completely freezes, as if he was stuck in time for a moment.

Slowly, he brings his right foot down, and turns his head to the side, only to see the one and only person he'd least expect to be out this late at night.

You. His fellow next-door neighbor.

Usually, you'd be home by 10 and have some classical music blasted all night long.