Synchronous
By Shahrezad1
Summary: "But no, those hooded eyes were focused on something else. Perhaps the thick lavender the mountain range was melting into, all the light both literally and figuratively at his back. Or it might have been the crumpled sheaf of paper hanging loosely from within his substantial fist."
The first in a series of Synlet challenges for Synlet month. =^__^=
Disclaimer: Syndrome (alias Buddy Pine) and Violet Parr belong to Brad Bird, the creators at Pixar, and the Disney/Pixar company itself. No infringement is intended, this is created for sheer fun.
~/~/~
Chapter 1: Solitude
"Synchronous Rotation: When an object always shows the same face to its orbiting object. See: Earth and Moon."
He was at it again.
The thought was the twentieth of its kind since the new tenant had moved in a month ago, filling the resonating space left behind by the last of its long line of residents. And with him came his noises.
Violet found that she didn't mind the cacophony resting just beyond her eastern wall. It was a blessed counterpoint to the silence she was accustomed to, her roommate working long hours in contrast to Vi's endless schooling, consequently leaving her on her own for copious amounts of time. So when she again heard the indicative dial tone of her neighbor on yet another speaker-phone call the girl couldn't help but pause and smile in her job of filling the dishwasher.
Eventually his low, textured tones reached a voicemail and she felt mildly grateful that he hadn't reached the person he'd aimed for. Those 'conversations' frequently ending in shouting matches, ringing irate and clear through the barrier dividing them, and including every sardonic and punishing intonation but none of his actual words.
It was always like that. A myriad of bumps and pounds and shouts without any specifics. And sometimes early mornings, as she went about brushing teeth and untangling her river of lank black hair, she could hear him get out of the shower or pull a dish from his own mirroring dishwasher.
It was disconcerting, but also soothing in its own right. The knowledge that even if it was through a screen of anonymity she was not alone.
With that thought in mind Violet left her apartment to take out the trash in the dying light of the evening. It was against this background of purples, reds, and oranges that she finally saw him, her unseen companion.
He was a bulky, brooding figure standing three flights above her grounded position. And for a blink the young student had the urge to disappear entirely under his scrutiny. But no, those hooded eyes were focused on something else. Perhaps the thick lavender the mountain range was melting into, all the light both literally and figuratively at his back. Or it might have been the crumpled sheaf of paper hanging loosely from within his substantial fist.
Whatever it was, she couldn't tell from her position so far beneath, grass crunching with the onset of frost.
~/~/~
Their next encounter happened two weeks later. The nights had turned colder and dimmer, the sun extinguishing itself early regardless of Daylight Savings Time. Despite this and, bearing in mind the increased time it took, Violet had started altering her path to include the sight of his balcony. In the hope, perhaps, that she might gain a greater understanding of the serious individual.
But that chance never came.
Sighing, Violet shut the door to her apartment with one hand even as she swung her backpack on to the yard-sale-reject of a sofa with the other. Immediately thereafter she groaned in weariness, remembering with an echoing peal the words her roommate had stated just that morning.
"…and could you pick up the mail after you get home from school tonight? The mailman keeps sending it back if it sits there too long…"
Shooting a longing glance at the bedroom door for a well-deserved nap, Violet ultimately sighed then pivoted mid-turn to again face the exit, locking the door behind her.
The complex's community mailbox really was a simple thing: a series of six large metal boxes propped up on short stands, their surface broken up into individual parts for each unit. Their box was along the back side, a slot that had been modified from what was previously a drop box, its surface lightly caked with dirt via a childish mud-ball.
Violet bent to fetch the mail, and when she straightened it was to the sound of a vaguely familiar voice.
"Bill. Bill. Ad. Bill."
He spoke low but clear in utter unconcern for being heard, irritation rising each time he didn't find what he was looking for. But it wasn't until the man's triumphant cry sounded that she placed the voice as being the man on the other side of the wall; the austere figure on the balcony.
The idea of sneaking a peak at her mysterious neighbor didn't last long, however as it was ruthlessly thwarted, his brooding presence stomping off into the dark and far from the halo created by halogen lights.
But she did catch an impression of red hair and horn-rimmed glasses. In addition to the slightly-daunting realization that her mysterious neighbor towered high above her much shorter frame.
~/~/~
Violet winced as she watched her friend, almost in slow motion, fall to the ground. He was currently wrestling with another of her competitive friends, much to her dismay, and shortly after the rest of the room had joined in, scary movie easily forgotten.
Well, so much for that idea, the glance Violet and her roommate shared seemed to say, before the latter moved to break the fight up.
Multiple death glares were shot through the room, threats dispensed, and the movie returned to, but the noise level only dimmed slightly. A worried thought for the apartments surrounding left her sending a silent apology in all directions, but the woman received no reply to her mental plea for forgiveness.
Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, the credits rolled and the night ended, their friends dispersing one by one. Her roomie had long gone to sleep, and the young Super was left to clean up the night's skeletal remains. It was well past midnight when the knock sounded from the west, instead of the wall facing to the east. For a moment the girl froze, then shot a curious glance at the eastern side.
Insistent pounding coming from her door was her inaction's response, so tentatively the dark-haired hero reached for a stool in order to reach the too-tall peephole to be presented with solid shoulder, but not more, all glaringly echoed in monochromatic blacks and sickly fluorescent yellow. And then a profile came into view and time halted, but for only long enough for her heart to stutter then begin again.
Tentatively releasing the deadbolt, foot firmly put just on the other side of the wooden barrier in case if she needed to quickly escape, Violet slowly opened the door…
Blue eyes steamed red with anger and frustration directly at Violet's eye-level, pajama-wearing form (blue with rocket ships shooting cheerily across the expanse of cloth sky) wrapped in a ratty trench-coat and slippers even as clumps of red-auburn hair shot up in untidy spikes, as though he had just run his fingers through it, before beginning the process again and again.
The man didn't give her a chance to greet or ask any questions, merely jumping into an immediate tirade as his frustration was let loose and given form.
"Look. I've been patient for a month. I know you're just…just…having fun, I guess you could say," his expression twisted as though the words were torn from his lips, but the opposite tenant continued despite the effort, "but, for heaven's sakes, can't you just go to bed like a normal person and freaking shut up already! I mean, come on! It's almost ONE AM! I've got a…a…a job proposal in the morning, and I'm sure that you have something else you're gonna be doing once you end your vampiric lifestyle. So can you just. Go. To bed? Please. That's all I ask. No noise, no music, no laughter. Just silence. Do you think you can handle that, sweetheart?"
Silence really was his only answer as Violet could only stare. It was her neighbor, yes, that much was evident from his words and appearance. But there was something more to the man that caught her attention and held it like a bird in a room full of cats. Something about the way his glasses cast a shadow along freckled cheeks and electric-blue eyes, along with the furrow of his angered brows, arms naturally rising to rest against the doorframe.
He didn't know who she was.
But she knew him.
He wasn't just her neighbor, the man of the knocks and noises. He wasn't just an angry figure looking off into the night, or a man anxiously awaiting some sort of response (a response she couldn't help but be morbidly curious about).
He was…
"Syndrome."
The word left her lips faster than thought could silence it. Meanwhile the responding transformation was automatic as shock and anxiety took the place of anger upon the scientist's face. How did she know, his emotions seemed to say for the world to see. But that switched to a, 'Doesn't really matter. She knows too much anyway,' smirk turning dark and ruthless.
But before he could act she was hitting him over the head with a nearby lamp. And with a suddenly unconscious villain felled flat upon her doormat, all Violet could think of was:
Crap. Now what am I gonna do?
~/~/~
AN:
Happy Synlet month!
To explain: PegasusCrystal/Daniisreallywierd and I got to talking about how there should be a Synlet month, the same way there are shipping weeks for Avatar and others. Recently she reminded me of this fact, and I've been trying to find a way to celebrate it since then.
So I created a challenge for myself in order to get the inspiration flowing by creating a series of one-shots.
I'm going to try to get at least eleven done for the month of November (since Nov is month 11), but possibly upwards on thirty (the days in the month) if time will allow, choosing whichever themes I want (music, or themes of literature, or based on life experiences). I'll probably only get eleven done, really, but it won't be for lack of trying. The next one will be up soon, and is also based on real experience.
Now, for the fic: This is an art imitates life situation. I'm familiar with all my neighbors except for the ones that have the exact mirror image of an apartment to us, on the east wall. I am insatiably curious, so every time I hear them getting ready for the day or doing tasks it makes me wonder if it's a woman or a man, old or young, married or single, etcetera. I just filled in the rest as I felt inspired. Also, the apartment described is most definitely mine. The peephole is too high for me to reach, our mailbox keeps getting dirty 'cause kids keep hitting it with mud (why ours I don't know), my roommate works a lot, and we have a movie night every week. The rest is history.