Bangers and Mash

Prolouge- Two years later

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There's a knocking on the door, quieter than last time but still prominent in the silent abyss of my apartment. It echoes off of the plethora of boxes scattered around the room and sends an irritated zip into my already pounding heart.

Slouching up from my cosy sofa- the only item of furniture I truly love- I make my way to the old oak door, covered in grains and signs of wear. My shoulders tense as I anticipate the worst.

The person knocks again, slightly louder but ten times more irritating; a growl escapes from my tense throat.

I slam the door open, anger rising uncontrollably in my grumbling stomach, as I try to control the urge to scream. It makes a sickeningly loud crunch as it hits the scrappily painted wall.

"For the last time! I am not coming back to that fu-"

My words fall short; my breath catches in my throat.

Standing in front of me, with a shockingly shy smile on his face, is a very muscular man. Bulking biceps shine through the thin shirt he has on; sleeves pulled up the elbows to showcase sleeves full of tattoos. It should intimidate me; it should make me feel threatened or some sort of way, but it doesn't.

He doesn't trigger that dangerous part of my brain.

"'ello, sorry t' bother you mate, I'm Aaron- I live in t' flat opposite. Just wanted t' know if you needed any 'elp?"

His accent is beautiful, though slightly different than what I'm used to; the ill-pronunciation is quite endearing in a way.

My fists unclench, the pulled skin loosening slightly, and my breathing calms down.

He's not a threat

I raise my hand hesitantly, my brown eyes meeting his.

He's not a threat

He accepts the offer, clasping my cold hands in his warm paws- a gentle grin on his face.

He's not a threat.

"Nice too meet you, I'm Lucas"