Apartment Thirty-Nine ~d.j.h~

~2~

Through the thin walls, you could hear the intricate playing of the person's fingers against the keys of the piano. It began to grow some what annoying.

I grabbed my speaker, turning it to full volume and blasting Twenty One Pilots, trying to wash out the classical piano. I could still hear it over my weak amplifier.

I sighed and walked to the wall, banging on it. "Can you quiet down in there, buddy?" I yelled.

The piano came to an abrupt stop.

"Oh, sorry, sorry." A muffled British voice rang through my apartment.

"Yeah, thanks." I walked back to my new couch, plopping down on it.

The room filled with silence. No piano. How relieving!

I began to unpack my bags, stuffing my clothes into drawers. Already felt like home.

I heard there was a pool here, surprisingly. I grabbed my black one piece, slipping it on and grabbing a white towel.

I slowly got in to the Jacuzzi, relaxing and closing my eyes. But, I was secretly eavesdropping on people's conversations.

A name that was floating around popularly was 'Dan Howell/ The Towel Boy'. But these comments about this man were not respectful. They were saying how horrible he is at his job, how he dropped their towels in the pool or was just clumsy in general. They spoke about how weak he seemed to be, almost plush, soft, and sensitive.

Suddenly, some giggles filled the pool area and his name appeared again. I assume he is the one who just walked through the door.

Tall, black skinny jeans, white polo shirt, black shoes, and towels draped over his shoulders, handing them out. His brown fringe fell in his eyes every now and then, him having to stop handing out towels to fix it. His dark brown eyes scanned the area, looking for humans in need of towel assistance. His eyes suddenly fell upon me.

His feet shuffled towards me from across the pool and soon he was standing above me, looking down on me in the Jacuzzi.

"D-do you need a towel?" A familiar voice, it was.

"No, I have one."

"Oh ok." He looked down awkwardly.

"Dan, that's your name, right?"

"Uh, yeah, Dan Howell."

"Heh." I chuckled.

"What are you laughing about?" A smile formed on his face, two dimples on his cheeks.

"Dan Howell? More like.....Dan Towel."

A "why do you do this" face rested on him, but he couldn't hold back a smile.

"It's Howell." He gritted through his fake anger face.

"If you say so, Towel Boy." I pulled myself out of the water, droplets of the liquid running down my body.

Dan was so tall compared to me. I have always been the short one, anyways. I walked past him, his eyes following me as I grabbed my towel from the green and white sun chair.

I quickly dried off and smirked at him.

"See you later, Dan Towel."