Summary: Phil's excited to be moving into this new apartment. Until he meets his eccentric new neighbour - the landlord's son.
""Oh, hello," the man said, letting go of the black rubbish bag he'd been dragging behind him. "Sorry, do you have an appointment?"
"I… No, I just moved in. Downstairs," Phil tried nervously, pointing to the floor."
A/N: something a little fun and different from what i usually do, but still good.
inspired by a the song wonderful wonderful with johnny mathis
Author: awesomesockes
Doodler: philslesters Art: X (later it will arrive)
Beta: realityisnoplacetolive
Posted as a part for the Phandom Little Pop 2016 2.0
Genre: Thriller, comedy.
Warnings: Blood, murder.
Words: 1k
His new flat was a four-bedroom apartment located on the fifth floor of an old building (featuring no lift) in the centre of London. Normally, such a place would've been impossible to afford, but in this particular complex, the rent prices hadn't increased since 1896 due to an old and binding contract. Phil couldn't have been luckier, though he was curious why the previous tenant stayed less than three weeks.
As he climbed the staircase, Phil got his first glimpse of how ancient this building really was. The original green wallpaper was ripped in multiple places, leaving it hanging down the wall or lying on the floor in small piles. Clearly the minimal rent didn't cover the cost of a housekeeper. At least the ceiling was more or less intact, excluding the large crack that ran above his head.
Sneaking up the staircase was pretty much impossible. It was old and worn—almost all the white paint had disappeared throughout the years—and it creaked and groaned with each step. But despite all its flaws, Phil couldn't deny the building was beautiful.
He stopped climbing when he met a partially-open door. Surprisingly, it looked even older than the rest of the house, except for the polished metal sign hanging on it that read 'Dr. Howell'.
Phil had only wanted to take a quick look; after all, this building was to be his new home. But the moment he stuck his head forward to read the rest of the sign, the door swung open.
Phil jumped back in surprise and almost fell down the stairs. Out came a well-dressed young man, probably in his twenties, in an expensive-looking black suit, his tie hanging loose around his neck. Most of his hair was neatly gelled back, though some pieces were ruffled and out of place like he'd recently done something physical.
Nothing about that sight would've been odd, except for the fact that his hands, face, and white shirt were all spattered with blood.
"Oh, hello," the man said, letting go of the black rubbish bag he'd been dragging behind him. "Sorry, do you have an appointment?"
"I… No, I just moved in. Downstairs," Phil tried nervously, pointing to the floor.
"Oh, you must be Philip then. I'm Dan—my family owns the building." He smiled widely, exposing dazzlingly white teeth, before stretching out his hand.
They both stood in silence, staring down at Dan's blood-covered hand.
"Maybe handshakes are for later…" Dan mumbled and pulled back, his smile unfading. "Where are you headed?" he asked, wiping his hand across his forehead, which only smeared the blood more and made Phil squirm.
"Just the attic. I've got some, uh, stuff. I wasn't… lurking or anything."
"Oh, I don't mind," he said lightly, eyes still locked on Phil's. "Humans are curious by nature."
Phil finally dared to glance over Dan's shoulder and into the apartment. From what he could see, the interior was pristinely clean and ordered, almost obsessively so, with the exception of what looked to be a moderately-sized puddle of blood on the ornate rug at the end of the hall.
The uncomfortable silence was interrupted by a tiny scream coming from inside. Phil's eyes widened in surprise, and he looked back at Dan, who continued to smile like he was posing for a toothpaste advert.
"That's just the TV," Dan assured, obviously noticing Phil's concern.
"But it sounded so—"
"I have surround sound," Dan added quickly.
Phil swallowed thickly and nodded. It didn't take long before he heard it again.
"Will you excuse me for a second? I'll just go turn it off, hold on."
"Actually, I was just about to leave…"
"No!" Dan burst out, his stiff smile faltering for the first time. Phil froze in shock, not daring to do anything else. "No, please. Please stay. I'll be quick." The man in front of him reverted to his former wide smile, once again exposing his fake-looking white teeth.
"O-Okay," Phil quietly consented.
Dan turned and disappeared inside, leaving Phil alone with what he hoped was Dan's rubbish, despite the bag having a suspicious shape. Ten seconds and a loud 'bang' later, he returned in the doorway, this time followed by a trail of crimson footprints.
The blood on his face seemed to have been refreshed, and was now dripping onto the collar of his blazer. Phil tried not to gag.
"You-You've got something…" Phil drew his own shaking hand to his chin.
Dan copied Phil's movements and wiped his left hand against his jawline, before looking at it. "Oh, this? That's just blood." It came out as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Of c-course," Phil murmured.
"Is there anything I can help with? Or perhaps you'd like a cup of tea?" Dan's grin this time was so piercing that it made Phil feel a bit violated.
"N-No thanks!" Phil blurted and nervously swung the bag he was holding. "I'm fine, honestly."
"Another day, maybe?"
XX
Hours later, Phil collapsed, exhausted, onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling with mixed feelings. It had been both a long and a weird day, and despite it being 2am, he could hear Dan moving around energetically upstairs through the thin walls separating the two flats.
The creaks of his steps were combined with what sounded like sawing. Something told Phil his new neighbour wasn't exactly building a bookshelf. The song "Wonderful Wonderful" by Johnny Mathis began playing quietly, and judging by the quality of the sound it was an old LP version.
Between Dan's whistling along to the music and the sound of the saw moving steadily back and forth through whatever object it was cutting, Phil could've swore he heard a distant dripping noise, even though it wasn't raining outside.
It sent a chill down his spine, and he began to question if this was such a good arrangement after all.
/Sometimes we stand, on the top of a hill
And we gave at the earth and the sky
I turn to you, and you melt in my arms
There we are, Darling, only you and I
What a moment to share, it's wonderful, wonderful
Oh, so wonderful, my love/
Phil decided he'd probably decline the tea invitation.
thend