Arthur usually didn't mind his neighbours.
In fact, in the two months since he had moved into his new apartment, it was almost as though the bloke next door was non-existent. Arthur might even have thought that 4B was vacant, if Matthew (the guy who lived there) hadn't introduced himself the day after Arthur had moved in.
Matthew was quite the looker, with shaggy, wavy blonde hair, and soothing violet-blue eyes framed behind glasses. Admittedly, Arthur had felt a little intimidated at the height difference when he had first opened the door, but Matthew's gentle demeanor won out. And the way that Matthew was so quiet those first two months, Arthur was sure that he wouldn't have to worry about any noise from the Canadian next door.
Or so he thought.
Arthur had just started to pour himself some tea before settling into Great Expectations, when someone started pounding on his door, startling him. Arthur gasped as the hot water scalded his hand, soaking into his left shirt sleeve. He tore off the shirt to prevent further damage, then glared at the door.
Just as he started to yell at whomever that he would be there in a moment, he heard 4B's door open and close, all rather loudly, like the person was running around in a rush. It took Arthur a moment to realize that the pounding had actually been on his neighbour's door, and not his own.
"Bloody hell, what is their problem?!" Arthur scowled at the wall, in 4B's direction. The ensuing silence only made Arthur suspicious.
He decided to go change his shirt, and try to salvage the tea, since nothing seemed to be developing. He had just finished wrapping his hand when more noise started bursting through the wall, this time 4B's stereo cranked full volume. Arthur strode back into the living room and screeched at the wall, though of course his complaint was lost to the racker.
"Turn it down you idjit!"
The fact that the next line of the song was 'turn down for what?" did not appease things.
After a few minutes, Arthur was set to put on his shoes and go protest in person, but the music suddenly stopped. Just before it did though, the Brit was sure that he had heard someone cheering.
Arthur tensely waited for the noise to start up again, but instead, he heard 4B's door open and close, then two sets of receding footsteps, along with a rather loud conversation, though the words were unintelligible.
The one word that the Brit did make out, was dude.
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The rest of the evening was uneventful, excluding Arthur having to chase down his cat Biscuit to give him a bath, out on the fire escape. The fire escape made him uneasy, since the window that led onto it did not latch properly, and the fact that one could easily climb up and into his apartment (not that he knew this from late night/early morning drunken parkourish stunts, no).
Snatching up Biscuit just before the little cat could venture off their floor, Arthur turned to re-enter his apartment when he almost tripped over something furry and irritated. Grabbing the railing before he could actually go anywhere, Arthur righted himself and pulled Biscuit's claws from his shirt (honesty, what had his shirts done in a previous life to deserve all this mistreatment?) and turned to see what he had tripped over, which was now headbutting him in the leg, somewhat gently.
"And who's fat cat is this?" Arthur crouched to pet the feline, who, as Arthur had noted, was rather chubby, suggesting he wasn't an alley cat. Indeed, his fur, white all over except for his brown tail and the brown pouf of fur around his neck, like a scarf, or those lace collars people wore around Shakespearian times.
Reaching out to stroke behind the cat's ear, Biscuit hissed and ran back inside. Seeing the Scottishfold run off, the new cat ran after it, leaving Arthur alone on the fire escape, listening to the nearby traffic slowly calming, and the two cats running helter-skelter in his flat.
He looked over towards 4B's exit on the fire escape, noting that the window was open, and underneath it was an overturned plant, a violet.
Looking around, the Brit checked the see that he was alone, then scurried over to fix the plant. It's only fair to the plant, he reasoned. His eyes strayed into the apartment for an instant, which was rather similar to his own in lay-out; couch, bookshelves, tv. There was hockey paraphernalia over most of the walls, and the tv had been hooked up to a few gaming systems, and the bookshelves held quite a few photographs.
Arthur took it all in, then snapped back to his senses.
What am I doing?! What if someone saw me- they'd think I was a burglar, he chastized himself as he went home, and closed the window firmly.
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Arthur woke up the next morning, feeling...off.
The new cat had spent the night, curled up next to Biscuit. At first, Arthur had been concerned that his cat might be smushed, but they had seemed to adjust to one another, so he let them be. Rubbing his eyes, he sleepily wandered from his room to the kitchen, closing the fire-escape window on the way.
It wasn't until he had set out food for the cats (and pushed new cat off the counter, away from his own food) that his brain perked up.
"Wait, didn't I…close that window last night?..."
Arthur cautiously peered down the hallway towards the living room, and slowly tiptoed over, escorted by the brown and white cat.
Reaching the doorway, the couch was facing its back to him, but he could see that someone was lying on it, their arm draped over the end and their toes over the other end.
Arthur went into full alert mode, and ran to his room to call 9-1-1. As he entered the second digit, a thought occurred to him- what idiot burglar would fall asleep on the couch for the occupant to find him?
Hanging up the phone, he went back to the living room, to take a closer look.
At first, he was thrown for a loop- was that….4B?
Arthur stared at the back of the man's head, and stared him down trying to establish if that was really his neighbour.
The hair was the right colour, but it was too short, though the person wasn't. The Brit was set to walk around and give him a kick, when the guy groaned and turned over.
…..Arthur wasn't entirely sure anymore.
It was 4B...but it wasn't. He was very similar, but a few little features said that he wasn't. He had the same shade of blonde hair, but this fellow's was shorter, and had a stubborn cowlick instead of a curl. He had a tiny bit of stubble on his chin, only visible in the angled sunlight. His face was somewhat young, in his late teens or early twenties, thus a little younger than Arthur's 22 years. Arthur wouldn't admit it out loud, but this fellow was rather….handsome. Arthur blushed as his mind started to run away from him, and noticed the smell.
Alcohol.
Arthur narrowed his eyes and realized that his apartment had been breached by a drunk man.
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Arthur clunked a glass of water down on the coffee table, jolting drunk blondie awake.
"The liiiiiiiiightzzzzzzzzz…..they burrrrrrrrrrrrn…" he hissed, his voice hoarse. He blinked slowly, squinting, then groped the table, putting on his glasses, which Arthur hadn't noticed.
Arthur's breath caught a little at the clear blue of the man's eyes, bloodshot though they were. Catching himself as the other rubbed his face, Arthur cleared his throat and addressed him.
"I believe you owe an explanation and an apology."
"Whut?" The bespectacled man scratched his belly, his shirt on the floor by the window. "Who are you?"
Arthur's eyebrows bristled, like a ticked-off cat. "Arthur. Now, if your brain can process this- Why. Are. You. In. My. Flat?"
The Hungover guy looked around, reviewing his surroundings. Slowly, it seemed to dawn on him.
"Huh? Crap…I..uh..." he spotted the water and chugged it down, grateful. Finishing the glass, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, then rubbed the back of his head, putting back together the prior night.
"Um, well- I was visiting my brother Mattie for our birthday, and since we turned 21, we went out for drinks, and I thought I was climbing into the right window, and was sleeping on the right couch- though I did wonder when he got two cats but I didn't question it so now I'm hungover and shirtless in your living room so, um, hi."
Arthur glared him up and down, trying to determine wether he was telling the truth. Glasses boy grinned, and the Brit couldn't help but blush a little.
That's when he noticed that he was still in his pyjamas- namely, dark grey boxer briefs and a white tee shirt.
Face the colour of beets, he shoved glasses boy out the door the best he could, despite his smaller stature, and slammed the door. As an afterthought, he opened the door and said
"Matthew's in 4B."
Then he slammed it shut again and collapsed against the door, irritated, embarrassed, and being pawed by the new cat for more food.
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It was later that day, around three in the afternoon, that Arthur's door was actually knocked on. He answered it, and almost closed it again if the person hadn't stuck their foot in.
"Ok, two things- ow, and I'm sorry. Also, could I get my shirt back?"
"That's three." Arthur eased up a little, and was rewarded by falling onto his bum from the door swinging open. Suddenly, he was being pulled up really quickly, and was in someone's arms. He pushed himself away and went to grab the shirt from the floor. Shoving in Glasses Boy's arms, he started to push him back out the door, but felt quite a bit of resistance.
"Hey, thanks, and sorry about earlier. I'm Alfred, by the way. Alfred F. Jones."
"Brilliant. You have your shirt now, Mr. Jones, so if you could just-"
"But I feel really bad about it! I'm a hero, and heroes make up for their mistakes! Let me buy you a coffee, or something."
"I don't drink coffee," Arthur answered flatly.
"Hey Hero!" Alfred was suddenly on the floor, playing with the brown cat. "So this is where you went, buddy!"
Hero meowed happily, and headbutted Alfred. Biscuit mewed from the window sill and came over to investigate. Hero immediately forgot about his owner and ran over, practically tackling the smaller orange tabby.
"Oi! Careful!" Arthur warned Hero, who nuzzled into Biscuit affectionately. Alfred laughed. "See, they're buddies! Hero's just playing."
Arthur smiled a little, and made up his mind.
"Tea."
Alfred looked at him, confused.
"You may buy me a tea."
Alfred's grin seemed to get even bigger, somehow. "Awesome!"
"You may also fix the latch on my window."
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