You're His New Neighbor

Two

The familiar sound of John's voice echoing through your front hall woke you up at nearly the ass crack of dawn.

You were starting to regret giving him a spare key.

"I brought coffee and some of those chocolate pastries you nearly fought me over last week." His gravelly voice reached your ears before he rounded the corner with two coffees and a bag of bakery goods in his arms.

Maybe you'd let him keep the key after all.

You pushed yourself up off of the floor, your sleeping bag rustling as you pulled yourself out of it.

"Christ, love, when did you say your futon was supposed to be delivered? It's been days now, and you're still sleeping on the floor?" He took in the sight of you, messy hair, disheveled clothes, eyelids still heavy with sleep.

"It said it got delayed two days ago, but now I just think I got scammed." You groaned, yawning and stretching, your back popping painfully as you moved. "So now I'm out £80 and I can't afford to replace it now." You laughed, your voice still gravelly from sleep, "Gimme that coffee. I'm dying."

He chuckled and set the bag of pastries down on the nearest flat surface that wasn't covered in dust sheets or paint cans. As you took the coffee from his hand, your fingers brushed against his, sending a little tingle up your arm. He seemed not to notice, or maybe chose not to comment, his eyes watching you closely as you took your first, desperate sip.

You couldn't help the satisfied moan that slipped from your lips, the coffee was exactly what you needed. "God, that's good," you murmured, cradling the cup like it was the most precious thing in the world.

John chuckled again, a mischievous glint in his eye. "If you think that's good, let's have some of these," he said, nodding towards the bag of pastries. "I remembered how you nearly took my hand off last time I came between you and a chocolate twist."

He found an empty spot on the floor, making himself comfortable. His prosthetic leg made a soft clunk as he adjusted his sitting position. "You should sit back down for a minute. You've got that 'I might collapse at any moment' look about you."

"Yeah. Sorry about the seating situation — or lack thereof. Kinda in a pinch right now." You drank your coffee quickly, digging your hand into the bag of pastries to fish one out. You crossed your legs to sit next to him, nibbling on the pastry while your appetite caught up with your desperate need for caffeine.

"Why'd you order a futon anyway? Why not a regular couch?" He asked, setting into his own pastry.

"Because a futon is both a bed and a couch. And I couldn't afford both." You admitted.

After how close you and John had gotten over the last week, there was no point in hiding the truth from him. He'd learned all about your budget, how you'd come over to the UK with a set amount of money.

He just hadn't learned why. But he also hadn't asked, believing you'd talk about it when you were ready.

"Well now you've gone and got yourself scammed and can't afford either now, can you?" He sighed, "Tell you what. I've got a spare bed in the secondary room in my house. We can dismantle the whole frame and bring it over here, but honestly, as long as we at least get the mattress over here, I'll feel loads better."

You were on the verge of declining — after all, he'd already done so much for you — but then your back popped again and you groaned and knew he was right. You couldn't keep roughing it on the floor and expecting your body to make it through the grueling construction you needed it to handle on the daily.

"Fine. I'll do that at lunch today. Before I get too tired." You relented and he gave you an approving nod.

"We should check out your shower today. I didn't see any mould when I checked your sub-flooring yesterday, so that means the pipes should be holding up." He bit into his pastry, "I'm sure you'd like to shower."