AN:Hey guys! I'm back with another fic. I have had this idea since 2016 and only started writing it in July this year. It has always been a story I wanted to cover, but I didn't think I was a good enough writer when I first came up with the idea :'D

I wanted to wait until it was complete to share it with you all, but I am sitting at fourteen chapters and I think there will only be sixteen to eighteen in total anyway. So I am posting this now to get a feel of what you guys think! Updates will be quick until I run out of chapters, possibly twice or three times a week.

There is humour, romance, fluff, and (of course ;)) angst ahead!

I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think!

Roy Mustang knocked on the apartment door and waited for the resident to open the door. He could faintly hear music and a muffled conversation on the other side. He glanced once more over to his own apartment door to the left of him. The door was propped open with a moving box. He was new to the building but didn't know if he could trust anyone yet. Changing his mind, he walked back over and kicked the box back inside the door, letting it close in his face. Before it did, he grasped the piece of paper that still lay on the floor since he had officially moved in an hour ago.

As his door shut, the other opened and a woman's head poked out the door frame, looking left and then right, towards him. She looked confused as to why there was a knock on her door, but no one there.

"Hi," he greeted, his tone friendly. Still in front of his own door, he walked back across to her. She eyed him warily, closing the door slightly as he approached. She had every right to be cautious. Having lived in Central his whole life, he knew it was better to be safe than sorry when opening the door to a stranger.

"Hello," she replied politely. He took in her features. Her blonde hair was long and feel past her shoulders. Her bangs swept to the left, some strands falling in front of her chocolate brown eyes. She looked to be in her mid to late twenties and she wore a look of cautious, as well as mildly frustrated. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I just moved in next door." He held up the piece of paper he'd picked up. It was a delivery note describing the packages that had been sent to his apartment before he moved in were currently at this address. "I believe some of my belongings have been delivered here?"

The woman frowned for a moment, before realisation dawned on her. "Oh, yes! They're here." She opened the door and Roy spotted the delivery boxes in a room to the left of the hallway.

"Sorry," he began his explanation. "My aunt sent over some of my things but there was a mix up with the move in date so I moved in later than expected. They'd already been sent before the mix up."

"That's all right," she reassured him. Suddenly a wail came from within the apartment.

"Mum!" a childlike voice cried. "Where's the peanut butter?"

"It's in the fridge honey," she replied, beginning to head for the room to the left.

"It's not!" The cry was one of despair.

"For the love of," she muttered to herself. She turned to Roy, gesturing for him to come inside. "Please, come in. Your boxes are in there. Help yourself." She disappeared down the hall to speak to the child.

Roy was unsure what to do. The woman had told him to help himself, but it didn't feel right to him to just wander through her apartment. As the front door closed behind him he thought how glad he was he had closed his apartment door.

The conversation between the mother and child continued in the kitchen.

"It's right there," the woman announced, her voice frustrated. "It was right in front of you, James."

"I didn't see it."

"Here you go." There was silence, followed by the sound of cutlery hitting a plate or bowl. "Now, please be quick honey, we have to leave for school soon."

"Okay!"

The room Roy was in was sparsely decorated, used mainly for storage. Camping equipment sat in one corner, an ironing board in the other, propped up against the wall. There was a set of large skis and small skis, indicating that was an activity mother and son shared together. He didn't see a third set anywhere though. Various other random things were in the room, such as a washing basket, two tennis rackets, and a box labelled "childhood stuff".

Roy turned his attention to his belongings, amused. On one of the boxes there were drawings that were clearly done by a child. He couldn't make out some of them, but there were a few drawings of houses with stick people beside it. On another was an envelope taped to the top side and partially covering the delivery address. It read, "Welcome to your new home". Most likely, again, the child had written the message, and the card he assumed lay within it. The envelope was even complete with a smiley face and a drawing of a house.

"Ah," the woman spoke. "Sorry about that box with the drawings. My son did it and I didn't notice. If you were planning on keeping the boxes I'll buy you another one."

"That's okay," he reassured her. "It was really nice of him."

The woman smiled, a relieved look on her face. Clearly she had been worried about his reaction. It was just a box. He had more than enough boxes in his apartment right now. "James was adamant about doing something though, so I finally talked him into writing you a card. Here, let me help you carry these through."

"It's all right," he began. "If you're busy getting your son ready for school I can manage."

She waved away his concerns. "Regardless of my hurrying him along, he'll always be late for school. That boy is on his own schedule."

Roy chuckled and thanked her for her help. As she effortlessly lifted the first box he noticed her muscular frame. She clearly worked out. With ease she shifted the box to her right hand and she pulled open her front door, holding it open for him.

A couple of minutes later all the boxes had been moved. The pair were in the hall when a child's head poked out the doorframe, like his mother had done about ten minutes ago.

"What are you doing, Mum?" he asked, his gaze flicking backwards and forwards between the two adults.

"This is the man who's moving in next door," she replied, gesturing towards him. She looked at him questioningly. "His name is…"

"Roy," he interjected.

"My name's James!" he announced, stepping into the all. He looked about seven or eight. The boy's hair was blonde, like his mothers. It was long on top and combed over to the side. Placing them next to each other, you would definitely be able to tell they were related. The similarities between mother and son were uncanny. He looked very smart in his school uniform, complete with a black and red tie and a black blazer with a red trim. The school's crest was on the left breast pocket. Roy noticed he went to a private school. Surprisingly, he noticed it was the same one he had attended as a kid. "That's my Mum." He pointed at the woman.

"Riza," she replied, offering her hand out for a handshake. He took it in turn, offering them both a smile.

"Nice to meet you both."

"I was helping him move his boxes through to his house."

The boy's eyes lit up. "Did you like my drawings? And the card?" he asked excitedly.

Roy chuckled at his enthusiasm. "I haven't read the card yet, but the drawings are very nice. Thank you."

"Can you open it now?"

"James," Riza warned. "Roy's busy right now, he'll open it later. You need to get ready for school."

His face fell, but his bright smile returned once more. "Okay! Let me know what you think!" He turned and ran back into the apartment.

Roy chuckled and Riza shook her head, but she was amused.

"Thank you for your help, I really appreciate it."

"No problem." She smiled before returning to her own apartment. She paused in the doorway. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. Welcome to the building."

Roy nodded, thanking her once more. He returned to his own apartment, still amused at the interaction he had witnessed with the young boy. He walked down the hallway, shifting the boxes into his living room. The first door on the right situated a small room which he had decided would either be used as storage or a study, the latter being more likely. It was the same room his packages had been in in Riza's apartment, just mirrored. He assumed the whole apartment was the same layout, just mirrored.

The second door on the right was at the end of the hall which led to the master bedroom, which had an en suite. His bed would be delivered later that day and while he waited he hoped to unpack as much as he could. Directly at the end of the hall was the kitchen and dining room. It was large in size, especially for an apartment in Central. With the money he paid for the apartment, it better have been. On the left side of the kitchen there was a small square dining table with four chairs around it. The living room was next to the kitchen. There was a door in the hallway leading to it, but there was also an open door frame leading to the kitchen as well. The doorway on the left of the hallway, closest to the door, led to another bedroom, and a main bathroom was next door to that one.

Each room was empty just now, save for the living room, where the majority of his belongings currently sat. Some boxes had spilled into the hallway. Roy stood in the middle of it all, wondering where to begin. He spotted the box with the envelope attached and he smiled to himself. He picked his way through the chaos and retrieved the envelope.

He grinned as he pulled the card out. There was a typical kid's drawing of a house with a stick man standing next to it. A tree sat on the right while the sun had been drawn in the opposite corner. Opening it up, the message read, "Welcome to your new home", like the envelope, and it was signed with their names. The boy, James, had wrote his own name, the child like scrawl giving it away. However, it was clear his mother, Riza, had signed her own name, her writing incredibly neat.

Roy stood and walked towards the kitchen. The archway between the two rooms was large, about the size of two doors, and there was a half wall to the left with a small ledge. He placed the card on there. He would use it as motivation for unpacking, pleased that at least two people were happy about him moving in.

"James!" Riza called after her son as he practically ran into the school grounds. When he turned, she held up the lunch box he had forgotten in the car, which held his food for the day. He raced back, skidding to a stop in front of her.

"Thanks Mum!"

"Have a nice day honey." She kissed the top of his head then watched him race off to find his friends.

"You too!" he yelled back to her. The kid was always going one hundred miles an hour. She smiled to herself as she watched him run, his school bag banging against his back, his lunch bag flying wildly. The other parents looked on in disapproval at how boisterous he was. Riza ignored them in return, beaming at her son.

She was used to that kind of behaviour. Private school hadn't been her choice for her son at all, but her father insisted on it. Riza knew there was no arguing with him. She had done so in the past and it had concluded with unpleasant results. He was an alcoholic and when he was drunk he was angry. It made for a very difficult childhood. She tried her best to shield her son from it, but her father would always show up, unannounced, voicing his disapproval of her living here in Central. He would insist the pair of them move back in with him in his mansion outside East City. Riza would refuse and that was when the shouting started. However, Riza was nothing but a learner from experience. It had reached the point where she would keep a gun conveniently hidden in her living room, reserved for when her father got too aggressive. She would not let that bastard hurt her again. There was no way he was getting near her son either.

In order to keep the peace, and to stop another shouting match, Riza had agreed to private school. Berthold was paying for it, so she had no reason to complain. The parents and teachers were too stuck up and the majority of kids picked on her son for not having the flashiest gadgets or the most designer clothes. She would have been happier sending him to a public school, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

So, instead, she continued to grin as her boisterous son ran through the school grounds, hollering to his friends. They eagerly greeted him in return, all smiles. The sight made her happy.

It was her day off today and she was meeting her old friend, Rebecca Catalina, for lunch. Riza had a few hours before she had to leave for the train station to pick Rebecca up, so she returned home to do some housework.

As she passed her new neighbour's apartment, she smiled at the interaction they had shared earlier on that morning. She had been unsure who she would get as a neighbour. The last guy had been a creep who had eventually been evicted, so Roy was definitely an improvement already. As long as he wasn't a murderer, she would be happy.

Fondly, she recalled the memory of finding her son scrawling over one of Roy's boxes.

"What are you doing James?" Riza asked, finding her son on his knees on the floor. In his right hand he held three pens, all different colours, and in his left he was drawing with another colour all over the brown cardboard.

"Drawing," he replied simply, sticking his tongue out in concentration.

"James, you can't draw on these," Riza replied, realising exactly what he was drawing on.

He frowned, looking up from his handiwork. "Why not?"

"Because they're not ours." Riza had initially thought they were her own moving boxes. She still had old things stored in boxes in that room, mainly because she didn't have anywhere to put them.

"I know, they're for the person moving in next door. I want to send them a nice message."

Riza smiled at her son and his kindness, but not everyone would see it that way. "How about we make a card instead?" she offered. Riza knew he wouldn't stop, so this was the next best thing. "Most people throw out their moving boxes once they're done with them. They're more likely to keep a card."

His eyes lit up. He jumped up from his knees, pens clutched tightly in his excitement. "Okay! Let's do it!"

"Okay," Riza replied, pleased to have steered him away from his initial idea.

He was such a kind boy who always saw the good in everyone and everything. Riza hoped he would never lose that.

Speaking of her new neighbour, Roy chose that exact moment to step out of his apartment. His hands were full of folded up cardboard boxes. He juggled with them all as he tried to place his keys in the door and lock it.

"Need a hand?" she offered, peering around the mass of cardboard.

His gaze shot up at the sound of her voice and he smiled. "Please," he replied, desperation in his voice.

Riza chuckled. "Here, let me." She took half the stack from his hands, lightening the load.

"Thank you." He locked the door behind him.

"Are you taking these to the waste room?" she asked.

Roy nodded. "Yeah. It's only after I moved that I realised I have a lot of crap."

"I hear you. Try doing it with a three year old."

Roy shuddered. "I can only imagine. No, thank you."

As the pair began to walk, she stole another look at her new neighbour. His black hair was long and tousled, his fringe falling over his eyes. The eyes themselves looked almost black, but she couldn't tell in the artificial lighting of the building. He was a few inches taller than her and he had an athletic build. His face was handsome and his voice was pleasantly deep. "He's an attractive dude," she smiled to herself, amused.

"How long have you lived in the building?" he asked conversationally. He pressed the button to call the elevator. The numbers rose on the LED display above the door, counting up to number seven. They were almost at the top of the apartment building and had a good view of the city skyline.

"For five years," Riza replied, stepping inside with him. She watched as his finger hovered over the panel indicating the floor numbers. "The refuse room is on the first floor." He pushed the button and the door closed.

"Thanks, I'm still trying to find my way around." His smile was sheepish.

"That's okay. Like I said, if you need anything, just ask."

The pair made small talk during their trip, mainly discussing the weather, among other things. It was an unusually hot summer. Riza's apartment had felt stuffy for the last week or so and they were all hoping for some rain or a storm to clear the air. She had bought a fan a few days ago and it had become their saviour.

"It was nice talking to you Roy," she said politely, continuing to walk over to her own front door.

"Same to you, and thank you for the card," he grinned. "That was very nice of you."

Riza smiled. "I'll let James know you said thanks, he'll be thrilled. I'll see you around."

The door closed behind her and she found herself feeling better about her new neighbour. He was friendly and polite. They had shared a pleasant conversation on their travels to the refuse room and back. Roy seemed like a genuinely nice guy. He was attractive too, which was a nice bonus.

Placing her bag on the hook by the door, Riza busied herself with her work around her home. She wanted it to be all finished before she left for lunch so that when she left to collect James, the pair could have a free evening. Those nights were her favourites.