1001 LOVE STORIES(book Of Oneshots)

My Sunshine Pt.1 (18)

Word count: 1704

I remember when Matt first moved in next door.

I remember that was the first time I felt my heart thump unnaturally.

I try my best to carry the bags up the flight upstairs, me being hell bent on only making one trip in the bitter cold. Yet when I get to my door he's standing there.

He leans against the railing smoking a cigarette. His hand bleed from its poorly rapped bandages.

"Hey." He asks looking up at me and locking those luminescent blue eyes on me. Almost instantly my heart's beating begin to double in speed.

"I uh live here now." He says gesturing to the door.

"Oh." I say looking at my door. "I'm your neighbor. Dillon." He smiles a warm smile before holding out his injured hand at me before looking at it, pulling it back and offering me the other.

I look at the bags I were holding before setting them down and taking his hand and shaking it. He offers me a smile and I return it.

"Im Matt." He says and I smile.

"Nice to meet you sunshine." This causes my heart to instantly flutter.

"Hey." I tell him pulling out my key.

"Would you like to come in, I could suture that wound properly." I offer and he looks at his hand.

"Deal."

I sit on the bathroom tub while I rap his hand.

I'm the center of his palm was a giant gash.

"What happened?" I asked and he smiles.

"I cut at work. Nothing too serious thankfully." He says keeping that steady smile.

When I'm done he sits on the slightly worn sofa and I hand him a mountain dew.

"You can stay for dinner if you want. I'm not making anything fancy. Probably just barbecue chicken and fries." He turns to me looking as though I had just offered him a million dollars.

"Yes." He says with no hesitation. I smile at his child like look of excited want.

"OK you can find something to watch while I cook."

That day. I fell in love with him and he became a major part of my life.

I'm awoken by the soft nock on my balcony door and I sit up knowing it was Matt.

I sit up and there he is. Standing on the balcony holding a rag to his head.

In the moonlight I could see the blood covering the towel and I grabbed the bag I carried my (stolen) medical equipment from my nightstand and rush to the door.

This was an almost everyday thing. He'd come to my balcony with a different injury ranging from gashes to broken and dislocated bones.

I'd then spend anywhere from ten minutes to two hours getting in back into shape.

I open the door and he instantly steps in and sits onto the floor next to my bed.

Me being in medical school made it all the more easier to suture his wounds and luckily I had spent the following day learning how to give stitches.

I sit on my bed as he lays his head on my lap allowing me to see the wound.

From the many of metal books I had read it was clear that he had been hit in the head with some kind of glass object, more then likely a bottle.