Nischa Oneshots

Neighbor

NOEL MEETS HIS NEIGHBORS ODD FOSTER KID

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Noel sat crisscrossed on his bed, writing poems in fancy cursive. The window directly next to his bed blew in warm summer air that made him relax. The smell of summer filled his room. He couldn't describe what it smelt like, but all he knew was that it smelled like summer.

He let out a soft sigh and placed his pen between two pages of his notebook. He closed the book and put it on his nightstand.

"What to do..." he mumbled to himself, tapping his chin. That was the bad thing about summer—as soon as school was let out, Noel became the most unproductive person ever. He locked himself up in his room all day, drawing his OC, Monique, and writing poems. On some days, he would hang out with his friends, but most of the time, the "hangouts" were over the phone.

He looked over to his desk, which was littered with art supplies and an open notebook.

"I could draw," he mumbled.

He looked over to his phone that was face down at the edge of his bed.

"Or text Connie," he muttered.

He pondered momentarily before groaning and lying down on his bed, placing his hand on his forehead for dramatic effect.

He was extremely bored.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a car door slam shut. He lifted his head and looked out his window, where he saw his neighbors leaving their car. They were a fairly nice couple, the woman being in her late thirties while the man was in his early forties. Noel had never really interacted with them, but from what he heard from his mom, they were okay people.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion when he heard a sob come from the wife. The husband sadly shook his head and embraced his wife in a hug.

"Did someone die?" Noel mumbled to himself. He knew it was bad to watch someone cry, but Noel being Noel, he was a nosey little shit and continued to watch.

The backseat door burst open. Out stepped out a teen boy Noel had never seen before. He wore obnoxiously baggy clothes and had poofy brown hair hidden by a backward cap.

The boy yelled out something in another language. Noel couldn't decipher what language it was. It sounded a lot like Russian.

The wife clung to her husband and sobbed harder. The husband looked at the boy with complete hatred and started screaming at him.

He couldn't understand what the husband was saying—he was speaking too fast, and his British accent made it all the more unintelligible, but whatever he said riled up the young teen even more as he yelled back in his native language.

Eventually, the yelling stopped, and the husband brought his sobbing wife inside, leaving the teen boy alone outside.

"ебать!" He yelled, kicking the tire of the car. Noel was surprised the boy didn't even wince after the kick. Noel kicked a tire once and ended up with a sprained big toe.

The boy flung open the trunk and took out two dark blue suitcases. He placed them both onto the ground and slammed the trunk shut. Noel jumped at the loud noise.

The boy ventured inside with his luggage. He slammed the front door shut.

Noel stared at the parked car in the driveway, his mouth agape. He slowly closed his window and locked it shut.

Well, that just turned his boring afternoon into an interesting one

——

It was almost a month later, and Noel had barely seen the unknown boy. He saw him maybe three or four times sneaking out of the basement through a tiny window during the night. He never saw him out and about during the day.