Bill Skarsgård • Roman Godfrey Imagines

Neighbors-Axel Cluney-part 2

Header image is an edit by me, just so there's no confusion

Hope you all like this part two! Sorry for the lack of gifs to set the mood more, literally couldn't find any

Anyways, happy reading <3

The past week has been, well, interesting. The music has lowered, thankfully; but as for the girls, not even a little bit. Actually, it seems as if he's had even more women over just to prove a point. You're awoken nearly every hour on the dot to the sound of banging against your thin, almost sheet rock-like walls, accompanied by the sound of ramped, obnoxious moaning.

So here you are, for the one hundredth time, lying sleepless because of the man next door. You feel like screaming, perhaps even fighting anyone within three feet of you. The sounds just don't stop, and you wonder how in the fuck people can, well, fuck for so long. That's why you decide to fight fire with a fire, sort of.

You gather all of your strength to get out of bed, body feeling weak and fatigued. If he wants noise, you'll give him noise. "Fucking asshole." You mutter under your breath, as you swing your arm back and your hand lands on the wall. "Shut!-" you yell, hitting the wall again as hard as you can "up!" You finish, pounding on the thin surface a few more times until you hear the noises on the other side come to a halt. Your palms burn, but you don't care, not one bit.

A smug, gratified smirk forms on your face as your hands fall to your sides, and you let out a sigh of relief. You rub the side of your face before you lazily climb back into the warm sanctuary that is your bed, feeling your body melt into the mattress and under the heavy covers. You think the worst is over, until a military drill sergeant level of knocking, sounds against your front door.

You jump, a gasp escaping your lips as you perch your head over your shoulder to try and figure out who it is. "Hey! Open up!" Of course that's who it is. You groan, scowling under your breath as you throw the comfortable covers off of your body once again. This whole process is all too redundant, and you feel nothing but complete spite for the man next door at this point.

You push your cold feet into a new pair of fuzzy slippers, that you happened to buy today whilst contemplating on getting noise cancelling headphones at the same time. You stomp over to your front door, the old hardwood floors creaking underneath your weight. You can see the darkness of a silhouette from underneath the crack of the door, the yellow light of the hallway illuminating your path.

As soon as you open the door, you're met with the sight of a sweaty, disgruntled, and yet again shirtless neighbor. His eyebrows are pressed together, pink lips pursed and long arms crossed over his broad chest. You roll your eyes, one hand perched on your hip. "Can I help you, Axel?" He scoffs, taking his plump bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Oh so you're calling me by my name now? Not asshole? Dickhead?" His voice is snide and contemptuous, and you now realize that he looks a lot more angry than your last encounter. "Cut the shit. If you're here to yell at me about me banging on your wall, save it. I need sleep and there's no reason two human beings should be having sex for hours on end at two a.m. I don't feel bad and I won't apologize."

You keep your head high and voice steady, not letting him see the intimidation hidden behind your confident demeanor. His jaw clenches, chest rising and falling rapidly. You catch yourself eyeing the highlights of his biceps as they bulge from his arms being crossed over one another, but you're quick to pull your gaze away so he doesn't notice. No, don't look at him like that.

"Why are you such a bitch? I've done nothing to you. I turned my music down, and now I can't even fuck someone without you whining about it? Maybe you should hop off my dick." His arms come down to his sides, a smug and cocky expression planting itself on his admittedly defined features. That son of a bitch.

"Your dick is the place I want to be farthest from, for your information. I just want sleep, that's it. I want to be able to not wake up every morning with red eyes from staying up and cr-" you pause, your throat feeling as if it's closing up. There's no way you almost confessed to him. There's no way you nearly let it slip.

You pray to god he didn't catch on, that he assumed you got so fed up you couldn't continue scolding him; but the red blotchiness forming on your cheeks and the wide eyed 'deer caught in the headlights' expression gives it away.

"Crying? You stay up crying?" Your heart seems to stop for a moment, curiosity being pinned between the fold of his brows and the quirk of his top lip. You're still frozen, fingernails digging into the soft wood of your front door in which you're still hanging onto. "Go away. And don't come back." Your voice is cold and icy, and he looks genuinely concerned and taken aback as you attempt to slam the door on him.

One of his large hands stops it right before it closes, his voice slicing the tension in half. "Wait! Hey, stop!" He manages to open the door back up, feeling shellshocked at the sight of tears sliding down your now puffy cheeks and your glossed over eyes. "W-what did I say?" You still attempt to close the door again, wiping your warm tears onto the sleeve of your shirt. "Just go!" You fight back, and he eventually lets you shut the door.

He stands still, a sudden, guttural feeling forming deep in his chest as he realizes you haven't moved an inch. He's not used to this feeling. He used to seeing girls cry, and he's unfortunately used to being the cause of it, but something about seeing you cry; the tough and ruthless neighbor who didn't give a damn about what he had to say, actually makes him feel an emotion that can only be described as regret. Sadness, even. How strange is that? He thinks to himself.

You're on the other side, trying to catch your breath as you stare at the hard wood floor. You swallow hard as he speaks. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry." He doesn't move, not even a centimeter. You sniffle, trying to figure out why you actually don't completely despise him right now even though he's the reason you're crying.

You've always been like that though, for as long as you can remember. The people who hurt you are the ones you long for the most, the ones you forgive too easily and the ones you regret giving second chances too. You almost respond, a new breath being taken and your lips parting; but you take it back at the last minute, like a promise that can't be kept.

You slowly turn around and saunter back to your bed, wrapping your arms around yourself as you do so. You climb back in and feel disheartened when you realize the covers are cold now, that they'll have to cover you in their safety to steal the warmth from your body again. People do the same, don't they?

Axel stays still for what feels like forever, an incessant need eating away at him to know what caused you to cry. To know why he caused you to cry. With other girls he always knows why, because he acts like a jackass when they catch feelings because he slept with them too early on. It's all too familiar. But it kills him right now at this very moment because he doesn't know why this stranger who has been so awry towards him, is now shedding tears because of something he said.

He's determined to find out why, and he'll do whatever he has to do to get answers.

HIIII OMG I LOVED WRITING THIS PART TWO!

I hope you all liked it as well! Things r getting I n t e r e s t i n g

Some might even say, s p i c y

Love you guys ❤️-xx