Neighbors(.)

Chapter 1

Scott sighed, completely and utterly bored. It was around 3pm on his day off. The weather was absolutely beautiful outside, but he'd woken up with a headache after a bad night's sleep and all he wanted was some peace and quiet. That idea had died quickly when he realised how little exactly there was to do in his small and minimalistic apartment (it was advertised as 'simplistic and modern' but it was more like 'bland and cramped'), but as a testament to laziness he still refused to go outside.

There was not a single good thing on television, so he was aimlessly flipping the channel from channel 26 to 25 and back again, trying to find something remotely interesting in the snippets of conversation he was hearing.

"And now to the weather, where-"

"No! I will not allow this weddin-"

"Sunny in California, with a-"

"Cheated on you with Dave! I-"

He groaned and settled on the news channel, seeing as he couldn't possibly bear to watch a soap opera; things weren't that desperate yet. He fell into a sleepy stupor as the news-readers read on, their monotonous, deadpan voices lulling him to sleep faster than a boring science teacher.

Bang!

Scott jolted awake instantly with a yelp, looking wildly around him. The loud noise had startled him immensely. He looked over to the television to see if a new program had come on while he drifted off, but the news-readers were reading on, undeterred by the rude interruption. It seemed that he might have just dreamed the noise after all. Taking a few deep breaths to steady his racing heartbeat, Scott sighed and nestled back into the couch.

Bang, bang!

Alright, that was it. Scott virtually jumped off of his comfy position on the couch, thoroughly vexed. His headache was coming back. Out of his bedroom came his black cat, mewling angrily at the inconceivably rude humans for waking him from his cat-nap. So to speak.

"You too, huh, Alphy?" Scott groaned sleepily. "You know what it is?"

The cat seemed too disgruntled to deign a reply to his owner's question. He simply held his head high, gave an indignant "Maow", and pranced into the next room.

Scott rolled his eyes and walked sleepily into the kitchen. He was still wearing his pyjama pants, which was probably a little inappropriate for the mid-afternoon on a perfectly good Sunday, but fun fact: Scott didn't give a damn. It's not like he was trying to impress anyone or anything.

Bang!

Growling slightly, Scott flicked his kettle on. It sounded like his neighbours on the right were having some kind of rave party, that or rearranging the furniture. The constant banging seemed to be in time with the throbbing of his head.

Scott paused for a moment, blinking. He turned so he was facing the right wall of his apartment, from whence the loud crashes were coming from.

He didn't have neighbours on the right.

The apartment had been for sale for six months at least, with absolutely no sane person interested in taking it.

Bang, bang, bang!

Scott smirked to himself, leaning against the kitchen counter. And yet another poor man or woman gets sucked in by false advertising. He could remember when he first bought his apartment, promises of "panoramic views", "great neighbours" and "designer apartments" running through his mind. Ha.

Speaking of great neighbours, though...

He wondered what kind of person was moving in next door. It was either a guy or a girl - or somewhere in between, Scott wasn't prejudiced - and he wasn't sure which he'd prefer. If it was a girl, she could be a nice, shy little thing who didn't make much noise.

Most likely, she would be another one of the women around here who cake their faces in horrible make-up and wear skirts so short and shirts so tight that they'd almost be more respectable with no clothes on at all.

If the new neighbour was a guy... ugh. He would either be a rowdy teenager with gangly limbs, low hygiene and no respect who threw parties every second night, or he'd be one of the tough young adults who took no nonsense from anyone - the kind of person who'd spit at your door and snap "what are you looking at?"

Bang!

Of course, Scott reflected, as his kettle finished boiling, They might be a poor, sucked-in kid like myself, a perfectly nice person about to get a harsh slap in the face by reality.

That thought alone sparked somewhere in his curiosity. Nine times out of ten, the person moving in would be a total jerk. It was that one time out of ten that inspired Scott to pour himself a coffee, run a hand through his messy brown hair, and decide to go and meet whoever was moving in. After all, he reasoned, if it's a sensitive young lady, I'd rather it's me she meets first than any of the other neighbours.

"How do I look?" he said out loud to Alphy, who had just padded back into the lounge room.

"Maow," Alphy replied.

"Good enough for me," Scott placed his coffee down on his kitchen bench, ran his hand through his hair again (a nervous habit of his) and started towards his front door.

His hand hovered over the doorknob, his social anxiety creeping in on him. Did he really want to be greeted by some aggravated, burly middle-aged man? Oh well. One way to find out. He began to twist the doorknob open, and then suddenly stopped, almost laughing out loud. He was still in his pyjamas, his hair hanging everywhere and his eyes slightly puffy with tiredness. What on earth had he been thinking? Going out like this? He really was tired.

He let go of the door handle and stepped back, shaking his head and grinning to himself.

The grin disappeared when the front door to his apartment was flung open, and in the doorway stood a distressed-looking man with purple hair, "I need your help. Right now."