Prompt: You live above me and I'm going to murder you if you don't stop throwing parties on Sunday nights.

Tessa took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before knocking firmly on the door. Her heart was pounding, which was ridiculous, given the situation. It was like she was bad guy here. She just wanted to, somehow, reach some common ground.

At least, she would have if they'd answer the damn door.

She was just about to turn to leave, a strange feeling of relief and annoyance at the missed opportunity, when the door opened. Her prepared speech caught in her throat when she saw the boy at the door. Even though he was obviously incredibly hungover, he was beautiful. That was the only way to describe him, especially considering that he was only wearing pajama pants and his dark hair was adorably rumpled. She halfway considered making up an excuse and running away. He was that gorgeous.

But then she thought her eight a.m. class and the quiz she'd failed because she'd been able to hear the music from his party and the constant thump of dancing feet and the fight that happened somewhere around three in the morning and she got angry all over again.

"Good morning." Her voice came out cheerier than she would have liked, but then he flinched and raised his hand to cradle his head and she realized how very hung over he was and almost smiled.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" he groaned as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Nine fifteen. I decided to stop by after my eight o'clock class." She was smiling, in spite of herself, because she was so pleased that she'd obviously woken him up and it gave her a small sense of poetic justice. "I live below you."

He looked at her blankly.

"I live below you," she repeated, this time just a little bit more loudly, just to watch him flinch. "And I have an eight o'clock class. On Mondays."

"And…?" He squinted his bright blue eyes at her like he was trying to solve a particularly difficult puzzle.

"And your parties on Sundays are going to make me crazy." She was still smiling, but the words came out tight. She hated that she was having this conversation in the first place. She knew that college was a place where you were supposed to have fun and let loose every now and then. Which she did. Or, at least, she thought about doing that. She didn't want to be that girl. And yet, here she was…And, he was still looking at her like she was an alien species. She felt herself deflate just a bit.

"It's just that, I have this class at eight on Mondays, and I have to well in it in order to get into this internship. I know it doesn't seem like a big deal, but it is and my professor gives out these impossible quizzes and I can't bloody study, or hell, sleep with your music and the shouting and the stomping, plus I don't have the money for noise cancelling headphones, and the library closes at nine on Sundays, so I was just hoping that maybe you could just not throw parties on Sunday nights?"

The words fell out her mouth in a rush and when she stopped, she found, to her horror, that there were tears gathering in her eyes. At some point during her speech, he'd straightened up and cocked his head to the side. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her hands were shaking. God, she hated confrontation and he was looking at her like she'd grown an extra head. She took a deep breath and was about to ask him if there was some way they could compromise when he shut the door in her face.

She gaped at the closed door and halfway considered pounding on it until he came back to it and handled the conversation like an adult. How many words had he even said to her? Ten? She stood in front of door fuming for a good tne minutes trying to determine the best course of action. In the end, she stomped back to her apartment and angrily made coffee while she listened for any sort of noise from the floor above her.

She fumed for the rest of the day, nearly biting the head off of anyone who tried to talk to her. When she got back from her late shift, there was a gift bag on the welcome mat outside her apartment. The tiny card attached to the handle had one word written on it in looping script: "Sorry."

Inside the bag was a brand new pair a Bose noise cancelling headphones.