oh my god, they were neighbors

instant noodles

It would be an utter lie—no, worse than a lie, like a fallacy—to say that Ezra had never once attempted to get a look at his next door neighbor. He had never meant to seem creepy, though he doubted that was ever the intention of most people, but he had hardly ever gotten a look at the man. The apartment building was generally quiet, cheap rent for college students barely scraping by or for newly divorced men that suddenly needed a place to live. And even with that in mind, the apartment next to Ezra's (that of the mystery neighbor) was painfully and dreadfully quiet. Like. Entirely. He had no visitors, and whenever his hallway door creaked open, it was always late at night when Ezra was already near asleep.

    Ezra was, by all standards, relatively average. He never excelled in school, from the early days of elementary up until he dropped out of college. His work at the local 7-Eleven was never going to earn him any medals. And it was rare he even touched the guitar in the corner of his small apartment anymore.

But Ezra's life, boring as it was, was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

    It all started with a package of instant noodles.

    Ezra had gotten off of work at 7 o'clock and immediately went home to crash for four hours, and when he woke, he was entirely starving. There was a small corner store right down the block from the apartment building that always sold instant ramen for dirt cheap, somehow cheaper than at 7-Eleven. So, that's where he went.

    When he came back, though, he felt a change in the air. It was as if the world was suddenly tilted, as if Atlas had finally shrugged. And he knew its source the moment he saw it.

His neighbor was out in the dim hallway, checking his mailbox. He was tall and slender, entirely the definition of lanky. In spite of his imposing height, he seemed to want to hide, almost curling into himself a bit as he peered into the little box. Thick, dark curls fell from his head to just below his ears and his white t-shirt was stained: a disaster of a man. Upon noticing Ezra's presence, which was almost instant, he seemed to freeze. His eyes widened, his movements ceased. He looked as if he had seen death.

    Ezra, too, took pause, clutching his plastic bag filled with nothing but instant ramen and lukewarm Pepsi tightly. He wasn't sure why, exactly. He didn't feel unsafe—rather, just a bit uncomfortable.

    "Hi," Ezra managed.

    The neighbor stared for a second, registering the interaction, processing it, before he responded. "H-hello."

    It would feel awkward to slip right into his apartment now, after greeting the man he'd been curious about since he moved in. But he also wasn't sure how to dismiss the conversation, so he kept it going.

    "I'm Ezra," he said, but he couldn't form a smile.

    "Mateo," the tall man replied. He finally pulled a letter from his mailbox, and took a step back. "Good- goodnight."

    Ezra said nothing in return. He just nodded at him and walked into his apartment. He wasn't sure what he'd expected from the man. Friendship? Banter? What the hell was he thinking? God, he needed a cold shower.

    Before cooking his ramen, Ezra went into his small, grimy bathroom and turned on the shower. He set it to cold, not that he'd really get much more than lukewarm if he wanted anything different. It was a horrible force of habit that when he took a shower, he'd actually spend a few moments staring at himself in the mirror before he got in. At least he wasn't running through any hot water.

    He wasn't sure where this habit started, but once he'd start looking in the mirror, he couldn't look away. It always started with his nose. Fuck, how he hated his nose. The damn thing always looked a bit crooked after he broke it as a kid. He tried to smile at himself, to lighten his mood, but his teeth were slightly yellowed from coffee and soda, and he despised it. He despised everything about his appearance. As he took off his shirt, he made note of that too. No abs to speak of. Christ, he was a walking piece of shit.

    Finally, he got into the shower, and it was a bit grounding for him. At the least, it woke him up. Got him out of his own head and back into his own body. He realized that he'd forgotten to get more anti-dandruff shampoo after his shift, so he just threw a bit of body wash into his messy brown hair and hoped it would do a good enough job. When he got out of the shower, he felt refreshed, and temporarily alright, even if that wasn't really the case.

    Ezra cooked his ramen and added a few drops of hot sauce to keep things interesting, and as he sat down and ate, he saw his guitar. And in a way, it felt like it saw him. The guitar was a gift from days gone by, a sad reminder of the past to the 22-year-old who barely had one yet. It was dark blue—his mother's favorite shade.

    He had played in the church band. Everyone loved him. Too bad he hadn't loved Jesus.

With a sigh, he cast the bowl of ramen aside and went to the guitar. He picked it up, sat back down on his couch, and just held it for a moment. He tried, sincerely, to play something, to pluck at the strings. But it didn't feel right. Somehow, it was like he'd forgotten every chord, every note he could play, even how a guitar sounded. So he set the instrument back in its corner, finished his ramen, washed it down with his Pepsi, and fell asleep on the couch to the horrible and unrealistic idea that things could ever be different.

    And somehow, fascinatingly, they were.

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a/n

i'm pretty new to this whole publishing thing but i wrote this half a year ago and my girlfriend encouraged me to do this, so i'm putting this out there for everyone to enjoy

i hope you have fun!!

- thatonegiant_817