Addiction/Affliction {M.Healy}

{three}

Hi readers! I'm having so much fun with this story. Glad you're enjoying it!

Another weekday morning, another night of broken sleep. The adrenaline from my morning jog had me pumped, and as I listened to my music and gazed at the greenery of London in the summer, I couldn't help but think of my mysterious, charming new patient.

My arm braced against the brick wall outside of my apartment, my other glued to the back of my shoe in a long, deep calf stretch when I noticed something out of character sitting at my front door.

A simple white fabric box adorned with a  classic black ribbon.
It was not my birthday.
It was not Christmas.
I had no lovers waiting around to shower me with surprises.

I opened it to reveal the conents: an assortment of coffees and teas, varying from dark roast to blonde; chamomile to black. There was a note attached, in perfect, bold loops of handwriting that read:

My apologies for keeping you up. I trust this will help.

-Your Friendly Neighbor

Hmph. Though it was a nice gesture, it still didn't make up for the lack of sleep I'd endured. I decided to thank the neighbor, and perhaps waking them up at 6:45 am would be a little bit of sweet revenge on my part.

My hair was wrapped in a giant messy bun at the top of my head, my legs barely covered by spandex running shorts, my black tanktop damp with sweat, but I didn't care. It wouldn't be like I was going to meet anyone special.

I paused the CHVRCHES song on my arm-band and tapped on the door.

From outside the door, I heard giant footsteps pattering slowly. Whoever was behind those doors had likely just woken up. The chain lock smoothed over and clicked. followed by two more clicks of the deadbolt.

The man behind the door was extremely tall, wearing a pair of black joggers that hung just below his defined hip-bones, tattoos wrapping around his body in vivid color. His blonde and brown hair was a mess, and he was rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Hello," he said, his lips widening in a friendly smile.

"Hi," I said, gesturing to the box the neighbor had given me. "Uhm--my name is Olive, I'm your neighbor."

The tattooed man nodded and smiled. "Oh, hi. George."

I nodded, fluttering my lashes and taking my ear buds out. "Ah, sorry if the note I left was a bit rude, it's just that your guests are quite loud and I work in the mornings so--"

Then, the moment another man's voice came from the living room area of the apartment, my heart skipped several beats and I nearly dropped the gift to the floor.

"Who's here, George," the familiar voice asked.

Like his friend George, this man was shirtless--but also pantsless-- standing there in a pair of black Calvin Kleins, the familiar tattoo my eyes had caught glimpses of now in full glory. It was black ink, surrounded by doves and the words "True Love" and "Annie". His others were positioned perfectly on his arms, and one colorful piece between his torso and hipbone.

The box slipped from my hands and the contents went rolling about, some outside the door, some inside of it.

His tall, good-looking friend bent over to pick some up as Matty and I both spoke.

"Matty?" I asked, at the same time he asked "Jones?"

This was surreal, the both of us seeing each other so out of our element. Me in athletic gear, rather than my pencil skirts and blouses, and Matty, in perfectly hugged boxers in stead of his usual black and white aesthetic.