Next Door || HAMZAH THE FANTSATIC

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏

-Y/N-

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:01

The trees rustled in perfect unison with my paintbrush.

During restless days, I only wanted to become one with my bed. However, I habitually leave assessments due at the last minute. 

I let myself breathe in the fresh air before preparing to continue painting.

 I wanted to just collapse into my bed, but instead, I picked up my paintbrush. Not because I had to but because I always find a way to turn my passion into something that feels like an obligation.

 However, I let myself enjoy the calm tranquillity; the only noise being accepted is my music. Today's shuffle being Clairo. I hum softly to the lyrics.

(You make me wanna) go dancing

(You make me wanna) try on feminin― "MARTIN"

I physically and mentally pause. Room 407.. again. 

I let out a soft, frustrated sigh, pausing for a moment before finally forcing myself to stand. It happens every day. I've never had the courage to go next door, let alone say anything, but there are times when my patience with people just wears thin. 

For a few seconds, I stay frozen on my stool, paintbrush still in my hand, lost in thought as my eyes drift over the canvas, not seeing it. I take a deep breath and try to tune out any more noise from that room. 

 I slowly raise my paintbrush― "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

Well, that's great. 

Without thinking, I push myself to my feet and quickly slip on my Crocs. By the time I reach the door, a wave of anxiety starts to creep in, but before I can second-guess myself, my hand is already knocking.

 At first, there is silence, and I consider that a sign to leave. I realise that my hand is still pressed onto the door. I then hear shuffling from inside, then loud creaks turning into footsteps. I quickly place my hand back into the proper position. 

As the door slowly opens, the man inside peeks through the crack before eventually opening it fully. I find myself having to look up to view him. 

The man looks to be in his 20s. My eyes glimpse quickly at his dark curly hair and then immediately at his clothes when I notice his shirt says, "Sorry, Too busy gaming."

When I caught sight of his shirt, I couldn't help but bite my lip to suppress a smile, feeling my cheeks warm as I quickly looked away, suddenly embarrassed for him — and me. 

He glanced down at his shirt, his face flushing as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. I quickly stand up straight and remember why I had come here, 

"Oh, sorry, hi. I'm just next door" I stumble upon my words as I make myself focus on why I came here. 

"Yeah, Y/n, right?" He has his hand still gripped on the door. 

"Yup... so I'm trying to focus on something, but it's a bit hard with the noise. Can you keep it down? Sorry." I try my best not to sound condescending. 

He gulps quietly and nods, "Yeah.. yeah, I'm sorry I- we didn't mean to disturb you." He says softly. I gently smile as a sign of leaving and mumble a quiet thank you.  He hums as a response before closing the door. 

I stand there for a slight minute, and I'm able to hear his friend, Martin, laugh at him. I let out a small sigh before heading back. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

AUTHOR'S NOTE: 

- Small chapter  ᐢ..ᐢ