In which Y/N is the sweet girl in the apartment next door, and Cameron cares for her too deeply to ignore her cries.
apartment au
Cameron had just moved in to the dinghy flat, approximately six nights ago. Despite being quite friendly, he was also a bit reserved in nature. He was one of those people who were quiet and shy at first glance, and then highly talkative once you got to know them. For these reasons, he hadn't exactly gotten to know the girl next door, his neighbor.
From his questionable breadth of apartment knowledge, he knew these things about his neighbor: her name was Y/N, as their postman, Peter, had fondly called her while thanking her for some baked goods she had offered him during an early shift, she carried a nice, lavender and homely scent which Cameron had grown to like and made him want to ask her what detergent she used, and she really fucking loved to bake, hence the perfectly frosted cupcakes she had offered Peter and the entire two tiered mocha cake she had enthusiastically brought by to welcome Cameron with on his first day. She was also very kind, bright, and quite pretty. There was something appealing about her.
He'd find himself clicking open his door to check if 'any mail had fallen from the mailman's reach, onto the ground' conveniently when his next door neighbor was getting ready to go work at the bakery nearby. He'd do it just to catch sight of her, and although he hated small talk, he grew used to her greeting him in the mornings and searched for her bright grin. He'd drop by the bakery she was working at, which just so happened to be by his apartment, and order her contribution to the menu: a flavourful pie, filled with unknown ingredients Y/N would whip up after asking if he had any allergies. There was something about her that genuinely interested Cameron.
The way she always had that kind smile on her face, how she held the door open for seniors entering the bakery and greeted every child or baby that wandered into the shop with motherly warmth. She had exceptionally high stamina and a quantity of patience so large, it left him baffled. She would never lose her temper, not once when customers took out their emotions on her in a negative fashion, or behaved poorly. Sometimes, Cameron would want to throw his fists at the bastards who came to watch her perversely, glancing down her top when she set down a tray of fries and a milkshake, and cackling on about her uniform. She wasn't a pushover, by any means. She was just kind, until they were kind back, and reminded them that she had done nothing to receive any form of hate. For fuck's sake, there had been a grumpy man who asked the question 'the coffee here is so expensive. do you take refills?' everyday for a week, and despite knowing the answer, he'd grumble about it everyday. Secretly, Cameron would watch behind his paperback copy of Love Is a Mixtape as she'd swing her hips while walking steadily with grace, as per usual, and grab the man's empty coffee cup and promise to bring back 'some water' with a sly wink. When she'd come back and place the cup in front of him, the man would have by then cracked a small smile of his own, sipping tentatively at the hot coffee as Y/N went on with her day.
There had even been a gang of perverse bastards, and one day they'd come back from a rumble all bruised, and Y/N had fixed them up with a tight smile as she had insisted on them sitting while she brought them some ice packs and a first aid kit. They'd sheepishly apologized for their raunchy behaviour, owing it to some tragic backstory, and she'd softly smiled in her own way, stitching the last stitch and reminding them to respect all men and women. The next time they'd come back, they came with a newfound respect for Y/N, referring to her as their sister and glaring at any rude, old dipshit customer during an extra late night shift, from behind gang necklaces and leather jackets, until they gulped and left her alone.
