there should be a set of rules against dating your next door neighbour. but when you move out for the first time to the apartment where you currently live, there’s barely any hint in the air about the destruction that will follow in the coming months. 

the first few months are smooth and peaceful, there’s a certain independence: the fact that you can sleep naked, and throw your dirty clothes in each and every corner if you want to, but also the downsides, nobody will be there to pick up those clothes, at the end you’ll have to do it yourself and if you don’t get up and make food for yourself, nobody else would. but that wasn’t enough to discourage your spirit. there were also house parties, the one night stands, the occasional random sleepovers, done without any sort of specific permissions from anyone. and yet even with the groups of your friends cracking jokes on each other, the drinking games, the get-togethers every other weekend, still left you with a certain longing in your chest, a feeling that was unfulfilled lingered around your heart and a broken fridge in the peak summer might just be your answer to it all. 

no moving out was complete without the breaking down of one important appliance, whether it be air conditioner, fan, fridge, television etc. and you were no different, except as far as lucks went, having your refrigerator break down in the middle of peak summer was maybe one of the worst ones to have. after repeatedly telling yourself that you don’t need to walk out to the general store in this sun, because you don’t “need” cold water, and repeatedly gulping down large amounts of room temperature water in an attempt to quench your thirst, you decide to do the most unhinged thing : knock on your neighbour’s door. 

what seemed to be the worst decision ever in theory took even more time to implement, after searching up random yes or no generators to figure out if you should actually go through the decision or not (it was a yes, for anyone wondering), you finally find yourself standing right outside the door of your neighbour. 

as soon as the door clicks open, you want nothing more than to go back and chug the room temperature water until you could drown in it, as a result of which, the blabbering ensues. 

“uh, hi, i’m sorry to disturb-” the man that stands in the doorway practically is the size of the doorway, you crane your neck a bit upwards to look at him, his soft features, his kind eyes, the ones that accompany the smile on his face along with the wonder that comes with having a stranger at your door. 

“i’m your neighbour,” to which he responds with a quick, “yes, yes i know,”

“i-uh, my fridge broke down last night and the repair guys said they would come today but you see, their van broke down so they said they’ll come whenever the van gets fixed, i’m sorry, what i meant was, can i have a chilled glass of water, please, if that’s not much of a bother?” 

he just laughs. "Of course, do you want to come in?”

seeing your reluctant expressions at stepping inside a strange man’s house, despite the fact that he’s your neighbour, he points, “don’t worry, i’m not a creep, i have my son with me too, he’s 7. wait, that doesn’t mean a person isn’t a creep, but i’m just saying that you don’t have to come inside, i’ll give you your glass of water right here, i just don’t want to be rude is all.”

to which you let out a laugh, “oh no, of course not, but i’ll just have it here if you don’t mind.” 

“just give me a second.” 

as you’re waiting, you watch a pair of eyes curiously trying to get a good look at you from the corner that they’re hiding in. when you spot him, he jumps and retreates inside the wall again.

“hey, you.”

he pokes out his head again. 

“yes, you, that’s who i’m talking about.”

he finally steps into view hesitantly. a small boy, with his father’s eyes and his mother’s- you don’t really know and you are opposed to knowing, your stomach a pit at the thought of the woman who has entranced such a man and the beautiful family they’ve created. the inside of the home (at least from where you stand) is the culmination of the love that grows between people and is then extended to grow between walls.

“what’s your name?” 

he stands awkwardly fidgeting with the hem of his shirt for a few seconds, until he hears his father coming up from behind him. “it’s james, he’s too shy in front of women,” cue the child running away. “i’m sorry, he thinks of women as an alien subject, especially pretty women. he hasn’t interacted with any females outside his school.”

he comes back with a glass of water and finally, finally, you quench your thirst! a big relief!

the subtle flirtation in him telling you about his son only comes to light after your objective with water is finished.

“your wife?” it comes out before you want it to or even before you can process it even. what a way to dig your own grave. his expressions visibly become grim, “she passed away while giving birth.”

“i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to bring that up, i just blurted it out, i don’t know why.”

“it’s fine, don't worry about it.” even though he assures you that he's not fazed by the sudden mention of her, you still feel bad for bringing the topic up, because it could've easily turned into a flirtatious conversation if not for your peddling nature. but then again you didn't want to be one of those homewreckers and so had to ensure if she was in the picture or not.

he offered you a big bottle to keep for the day till your fridge gets fixed, which you cannot thank him enough for. 

it hits you after you return home that this might be the most charming and goodlooking man you’ve ever seen, when you call up your best friend and tell her about him. as it happens, his face flashes in front of your eyes as you're about to sleep, a wall separating the two of you.

----

yet this minor crush on your neighbour does not intervene or derail your daily routine, the college was closeby to this new apartment and so you took your sweet time in the morning - waking up, taking a bath, getting ready, preparing and having breakfast, most of which you weren't able to do unless you got up at the asscrack of dawn. and sometimes not even then.

and you're not reminded of that encounter with your neighbour, or your thoughts on him, until after a grocery run, as three bags weigh you down (courtesy of a house party coming up) and you meet him in the lift.

“need some help?” he offers.

“yes please, thank you,”

when he notices the party poppers and the excessive snacks that for sure cannot be for a person alone, he suggests if you were having a party? 

“yes, it's my friend’s birthday, we're throwing her a surprise party,”

“only ‘friend’?”

you ask him what he meant by that and he repeats himself.

“i meant, you're doing all of this for someone who's just a ‘friend’?”

“well, yes, i want her to feel good,”

“you're too nice, i wish i had a friend like you,”

the statement puts you in a bit of an awkward position, but you handle it well. the lift opens on your floor and you walk slowly as you talk.

“consider me your friend, anyway we're each other's first responders so it's best we have a friendship to check up on each other.

especially since i live alone.”

“you live alone, why?”

“i’ve always wanted to enjoy my independence, you know, and now that i’m financially stable i’m finally getting to be that.”

as you reach your door, you unlock it with your free hand, inviting him in. 

“thanks for helping me, would you like to have a cup of coffee maybe? i make a killer cappucino,”

“if you insist, i’ll have it.”

over this cup of coffee, many things seem to unravel, the grasp of it is the undeniable attraction that you both seem to reciprocate for the other, the eyes that lock into each other for too long, the accidental touches, the repeated mentions of how lonely it gets, the desperate need to be relatable to the other. it is then established that you are going to fuck your neighbour, when and how, you didn’t know, but you did know it would be sooner than you thought. it was inevitable, with the way his body towered over yours and the lasting effect of how his closeness affected, it was bound to happen. 

a few more “dates” which was just hanging out at the other’s house, (his own when his son was at school, or at his parent’s or at a playdate or either yours, late in the night when he was fast asleep) and it leads to a night where there is a particularly notorious thunderstorm outside your bedroom window, you’ve not quite planned to meet him tonight but the thunder was scaring the life out of you. it was well into the night, almost more than midnight, so you decide to call him. 

“hey, what’s up?” you ask him nonchalantly. “were you sleeping? did i disturb you?” 

“oh no, sweetheart, you tell me, what happened, is everything okay? why the sudden call?”

after beating around the bush for a few seconds, you get to the point, not caring about what it made you seem like, it was a fact that you were scared of thunderstorms, anybody who wanted to be with you should know that, right? after he makes sure his son is comfortably asleep, he rings your bell. 

“hi, are you okay?”

“yes. ofcourse.” you try to play it off but he can see it in your eyes, a fazed look. 

when you take him to your room, he’s surprised to see you’ve made a whole blanket fort to sleep inside, he didn’t know that phobia of a thunderstorm could be this deep. 

“come inside, sit with me.”

and he sits with you there, as you tell him anecdotes about your life, your phobias, particularly the one with thunder, he listens patiently, and at the moment there is nothing else for him, selfish as he may sound, even his son that breathed calmly under the covers was forgotten, only you existed, you in this soft light, you in this blanket fort where no one could touch you or harm you, you always by his side, that’s what he wanted. 

“can you come close a bit?” he requests and you do as he says and are visibly surprised when he leans in for a kiss. not that you were opposed to it, his lips are soft, hot cakes, moist and calling you in for more and more, and he kisses gently but with conviction of not letting you go anytime soon. 

his hand then travels towards the cleavage he has wanted to grope ever since you came on that hot summer day outside his door, in a flimsy tanktop, asking for chilled water, and it is so soft, so bouncy he wants to grab it again and again, and when he touches the very tip of your nipples, the moans you make while kissing him tests his hardness further and further. he places you on his lap so you have an idea on how bad he wants you. 

“can i?” he asks about removing your top, and repeats as he wants to remove the bra as well. 

you nod, there’s nothing you want more in this moment than his hands all over your body and his mouth sucking at your nipples. 

but you also want to see him naked, so you signal him to lift off his shirt too, which he does compliantly. 

“and pants?” you nod, those too, off with them. 

he only smiles. he just hopes to be good since hasn’t quite had any action since his wife passed away, one or two hookups here and there, none of them all the way quite. 

“can i remove yours too?” he asks you, and you nod again, already feeling an empty throbbing inside your core, which is only satiated when he enters his two fingers inside, is that okay? you nod and grab him tightly, your fingers digging inside his biceps. 

“yes, yes, yes, that feels good, keep going please. keep going,”

he eats up the scene, your face as it furrows in pursuit of pleasure, the slight screen of sweat on your face,  the slight redness, the closed or rolling eyes, he wants to remember it forever, he wants it to have it each and every night of his life, along with your moans of his name repeatedly, over and over again as if that was the only word you could ever remember in your life. and when he enters you? it is the closest to heaven he’s ever been, the soft, warm hole taking him in so smoothly as if it was made for him and him only. 

he undoubtedly decides to call it the best night of his life, thank thor for the thunder!

----

he did not get to have a proper married life with his wife, since they were together for only almost 6-7 months before jumping in to get married, and he was also not as financially stable as he is now, so he could never really spoil her with gifts when she was alive. a problem that he is never going to let happen with you, you’re showered with the best that he can afford, be it food, clothes, makeup, books, whatever that you briefly mention is either ordered right in front of you or drops by on your doorstep a couple days later. 

this should’ve made you happy. everything was just perfect, the sex, the emotional needs, the material needs were all satisfied, the person himself was one of the most loving partner you’ve had, if not the only one, and yet it felt suffocating, a constant strain. what began as an attempt to cure you of your loneliness started being something that was actively interfering with your daily life. 

he was everywhere. your workplace, on the pretext of dropping and picking you up. your house, and if not there he would have you over to his own, he would even knock at the bathroom door if you were inside for too long. 

it felt suffocating and obsessive and just right at your neck, so you had to end it. 

but you couldn’t tell him the actual reason, so you had to go with “you’re too serious, i can’t be that serious, i want to live my life and explore” which was also true and yet not the entire reason for the breakup. it hurt to go through with the decision but in your mind you were convinced you were making the right choice by turning him away so he can find someone that is more available for him. 

but in this short span of dating him, you couldn’t get to know him. he, on the other hand, had started knowing you and noticing you. so he knew for a fact that this was not what it seemed, but what could he do if this is what you wanted? he shut the door rather gloomily that day, his son pestering him with questions about you, to which he just replies with, “she’s just going to be busy for sometime,” and ends up sleeping in his room.

----

a few days later, he decided that enough days have passed for him to reconnect with you and talk about what happened, or ask about it, because he had accepted most of it, he just needed you to talk him through it once more, it is not as easy to get on with your daily routine when your life has just crumbled. 

he waits after he rings the bell, and he knows you’re home, there is slow music coming from your bedroom balcony to his, tracks that have made their way into his own playlist from yours, but he doesn’t have the heart to play them anymore. 

a few minutes later, he rings it again, it is suspicious, he’s a little scared for you, but soon enough there is a padding of footsteps and a man he’s never seen in his life opens it, his first response is to think, maybe it is the wrong apartment, or maybe he didn’t even notice that you moved away, but those doubts are cleared when your voice echoes through the doorway, “is it the pizza?”

“um, what’s up, man? are you okay?”

“uh, yeah, wrong house, sorry,”

he turns away and pretends to look into his phone for an address while the man closes the door.

back home, he collapses as soon as he enters, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach, is this why you didn’t want to be serious? because you wanted to “explore”? was it worth it for you to give him up for dating a bunch of random guys who don’t look like they even know what they’re doing?

it was all too much for him. but he knew he couldn’t let his son see him like that, so the very next day he drops him off to his grandparents house, and both of the parties are extremely overjoyed at this opportunity.

---

“can we have dinner? one last time? at my place?”

you sigh as you read the text, why won’t he just leave you alone? there was enough guilt eating you up when you looked out the window and saw him there sometimes, but this permanence, was it really for you? should you really string someone along for your own benefit?

but you decide that the least you can do is offer him a closure sort of a thing, so you decide to take him up on his offer.

“how have you been doing?”

your very presence has left him bothered, while his face is painted with dark circles and a visible stubble, your face looks like it could feature in a skincare commercial without photoshopping anything and he's annoyed by it, wondering whether this was the work of the man standing in your doorway.

“just okay, yeah,”

when you ask him about his son, he informs you that he had been begging to visit his grandparents, the small talk circles around your job, his son, his job until it gets to the nerve.

he puts his fork down, “why?” 

the question doesn't need any more elaboration, you know what he's talking about and he's aware that you know.

“i don't know if i want to be serious, i’m sorry,”

“so you want to sleep around with the entire town but you draw the line at settling down with a good man?”

you're offended at the comment, “i’m sorry, who told you i was sleeping around? are you crazy?”

“i saw the guy staying over the other night,”

“he was a friend, i don't even know why i’m explaining this to you when we're not even together anymore,” you get up, leaving your sandwich half eaten, “thank you for the dinner, and don't you dare interfere in my life anymore,”

he gets up and grabs your arm to stop you, “wait, wait, wait, i’m really sorry, i didn't know, i’m so sorry, i’ve been spiraling, i’m a mess, i’m really sorry, it's hard to go back to normal when you made my life so wonderful, and now i’m just lonely again. so fucking lonely.”

your eyes soften a little, taking into note his appearance since the time you walked in. you had been so busy painting him as the bad guy that you didn't notice the pain in his eyes. 

he takes the opportunity to lean in for a kiss, and before you can push him away, he has grabbed a suspicious looking handkerchief to put over your nose.