There was a terrifying scuffling noise coming from the back of Roxas's pantry. Armed with nothing but an old cast iron skillet, a cell phone, and his own trembling hands, Roxas swallowed nervously. A list of possible explanations as to what could be making the sound raced through his head, each possibility getting wilder as the noise grew louder and his anxiety stronger.
This was just his luck. His first few weeks living alone, and he faced a family of rats-or an enraged possum, or something. Roxas let out a shaky sigh and had a powerful urge to call his mother. After a small mental pep talk and a brief episode where he gnawed his lip like a crazed beaver, he suppressed it. He was an adult now. He could do this without his mama's help. (Sure, his mama raised two rowdy boys and could probably lift a fridge and rope cattle with one hand if she wanted, but whatever.)
A surge of stubbornness coursed through him, almost making him forget his fear of whatever lurked behind his boxes of minute rice. He was a man. Sure, a man struggling through community college and currently trembling a little out of a fear of rabid animals, but he was a man nonetheless. He would overcome this challenge, and then go grill. Or something. It would be awesome.
Just as he almost felt brave enough to fling open the cupboard and confront the scuffling beast, an ear-piercing sound like a cross between a tea kettle about to explode and Satan shrieking in misery emanated from the cabinet. Letting out a scream that completely doused his earlier feelings of unconquerable manliness, Roxas scrambled back hurriedly, holding up his frying pan like a shield against chaos.
"The holy balls was that?!" he cried aloud hoarsely. An answering growl, low and guttural, came from the beast's lair. "Oh my Goood," Roxas half-groaned, half-whimpered. "My house is inhabited by-by fucking demon gerbils-" Throwing away his brief pride like a flimsy one-use poncho, his fingers raced across the surface of his phone to trace his mother's number. He was about to jab the call button like his life depended on it-and in his panicked state, he was sure that it did-but another thump caused him to pause.
It hadn't come from the cupboard. Another thump, then another...no, someone was knocking on his back door, which connected to the kitchen. He hastily remembered that he'd left the door propped open and the entrance to his tiny dining room barricaded off in hopes of corralling the mystery beast outdoors. A guy around his age poked his head into the kitchen, knuckles still out from when he'd rapped the side of the open door. Roxas recognized him, mainly because of the hair. Wild, gravity-defying, and sticking out everywhere like the quills on an offended porcupine, The Hair brushed the side of Roxas's kitten-patterned calendar.
"Hello neighbor!" said the guy attached to The Hair cheerfully. He was always saying that: whenever he saw Roxas leaving in the morning, coming home at night, or going outside to put his clothes on the line. "Hello neighbor"? Who said that anymore? Who did this redhead think he was, Mr. Rogers? Roxas couldn't judge him too hard, though. Maybe the guy was lonely. Roxas could get that, he guessed. There weren't really any other people their age in the neighborhood; in fact, Roxas's little brother had laughingly said that he lived in an "old people suburb". Roxas himself was a bit of a loner, but he couldn't blame the other guy for not being one and saying hi. Even if his way of saying hi was outdated and bordering on corny.
"H-hi," Roxas managed to get out, still awkwardly holding the skillet in one hand and his phone in the other. His skillet arm wobbled; it was getting heavy. With an expression that was both amused and polite, the guy looked him over. "You okay over here? I was just out in my yard and heard..." the guy trailed off, and Roxas was thankful his sentence hadn't ended with your girly screams of distress. "Uh, yeah, sorry... There's, like, something huge in my pantry." Roxas squeaked.
It struck him, then, how ridiculous he must have looked. Thankfully, his neighbor didn't burst into laughter at the pathetic sight of him. Behind him, the monster in the pantry scuffled even louder, as if to back him up and make him seem less crazy. Thanks, demon gerbil, Roxas thought. "Sounds pretty nasty." the guy said. "Mind if I take a peek in there?" he nodded at the pantry, making his hair bounce even more. "Be my guest, man. Wrestle it into submission if you can." Roxas laughed weakly, setting down the skillet and moving out of the way.
Roxas expected the guy to maybe pick up the frying pan, or grab the bucket and pan lid he'd set aside to grab and scoop said evil creature and fling it spiritedly out the door with his lean arms. He did not expect his neighbor to swing open the cabinet door in one quick move and plunge his arm in up to the shoulder. "Ah!" Roxas gasped, instinctively reaching for the nearest weapon. "Man, you should really-God only knows what-you're crazy-" he spluttered, brandishing the pastry brush he'd accidentally grabbed off the counter.
But his daring neighbor had turned back to face him, cradling something fat and extremely furry to his chest. "Niffler!" Crazy Hair Guy said happily, smooshing his face into the creature's body. "What?" Roxas near-shouted. "What...what the hell is that?" "My guinea pig! He got out of his pen in the yard yesterday and must've crawled in here somehow. Gee, bud, I was worried." he beamed down at the rodent, giving it a pat on the head. "You're...you're sure...that thing was the demonic presence in my pantry?" Roxas said slowly.
At that, a laugh did come from his neighbor-sudden and uncontrolled and ridiculous, making his pet bounce against his chest. "I'm sure," he said, grinning, obviously trying to compose himself. "Good frigging grief." Roxas sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I thought it was, like, an evil zombie possum or something." Only when hungry," his neighbor replied cheekily. "Much like his owner." Roxas smiled, truly relaxing since he had first heard the noises from his kitchen. "Thanks. I mean it, uh...I don't believe I know your name," Roxas admitted, feeling slightly guilty. Here was this nice, cheerful guy willing to check up on him, and he didn't even remember his name.
The guy had introduced himself at one point, right? Roxas couldn't remember. He was often frazzled these days. The guy didn't seem offended, however. The easy smile remained on his face, a remnant of his amusement at Roxas's panic. "It's Axel." his neighbor said. "Ah!" Roxas snapped his fingers. "Now I remember. Sorry...I've been stretched in three different directions lately and-" "-and my demon gerbil disrupted your memory?" Axel suggested. His eyes glittered with harmless teasing. "Y-yeah." Roxas grinned tentatively.
"No worries, Roxas." Axel shrugged, calling him by his name for the first time. Roxas was a little surprised that he knew it. "I'll take Niffler back home. He looks tired from his adventure in frightening cute boys." The sentence was so nonchalant that Roxas almost didn't catch the compliment. He felt a surge of heat rush up to his face and neck, and was horrified to realize that he was blushing. Fiercely.
"Oh, well, it wasn't that big of a deal, I mean, yeah I was freaked out at first but then like it wasn't even scary, I mean in was nothing serious in there. Really." Roxas blathered on, hoping he didn't sound like a lunatic. Axel's expression went back to one of contained amusement. "Yeah, of course, no big deal. I feel ya. Wanna hold him?" he extended his grumpy rodent fuzzball for Roxas. "NO!" Roxas squawked, flying backward. As Axel left, Roxas could still hear his guffaws echoing out the open window.
What a neighbor he had befriended.