"Hey watch it!" Andy has to duck as he enters my apartment to avoid the paintbrush that I throw at his head. I don't hear an impact, but it was hard to tell with the Host Club playing music loud enough to hear a floor up. "I can't afford to get paint all over my clothes right now." I look up for the briefest of moments before I return to looking back and forth between my reference photo and the canvas I was painting on.

"Learn to read," I say, picking up another paintbrush and mixing some colors together, "I'm in a crucial state and shouldn't be interrupted. I put a sign out."

"You mean the one that says Art in Process: Do NOT Disturb? The one that's currently taped to the inside of your door?" he says, and I hear the sound of tape being unstuck and then a slap on the door. "Fixed it for you! So what exactly are you doing that you shouldn't be bothered?"

"Hair," I whisper, taking one last glance at the reference photo before starting on that very component of the portrait. "I hate hair."

"Ah," Andy settles on my couch, "right. Can I help?"

"Some silence would be nice," I say, not looking up at him. He sits back, and I feel his eyes looking over my shoulder at what I'm doing. I tap the side of the pallet with my thumb before finally sighing and setting it to the side. "What's up?"

"You know how to tie a tie right?" he asks as I turn around. He's holding one in his hand, "I've watched 4 videos and I'm still lost."

"You… own a suit," I say slowly, "but you don't know how to tie a tie?"

"Ya… well, you don't own a suit and you know how to tie them," Andy huffs as I take it from him and set about the task, "I mean, who learns how to do things that they don't even have to worry about?"

"The kind of person," I say as I finish, tugging a little tighter than was probably necessary, "that knows her friends aren't going to be bothered to learn."

He adjusts his tie, before pulling out his phone to look at it through the camera lense. "I'll never understand how people can do this on themselves. Hey," he pauses, "you got paint on my tie!"

"Most people own a mirror so they can look at themselves," I laugh, "and if you're going to complain about it then learn how to tie your own tie." I pick my pallet back up, "Now I hate to be a bad host, but get going. I need to finish this."

"Oh," Andy looks curious, "what turned you into a busy bee today? A special commission?" He leans around me to look at it, "Looks good."

"Thanks, and it's not special. I just kinda forgot about it with the commotion this week brought us," I can hear Andy's disappointment from behind me. "I'm only a couple hours behind, honest."

"Mhm, well I suppose I should leave you to it then," he says, "thanks for the help with the tie. And get your work done, on time. Cause if you don't-"

"If I don't finish I don't get paid," I finish for him as he leaves, "I know, I know. Have fun wherever it is you're going!"

"Meeting with some other landlords to talk about secret landlord things," Andy laughs as he shuts the door behind him.

I half-laugh before going back to trying to focus on the piece, the sounds of what sounded like furniture moving around now acting as my soundtrack. It was fine, it was almost done. And it was due in three days. And I still had to set up a meeting with them to hand it over… ya it was fine. I go back to working on the women's hair, sometimes looking back at the reference image. Maybe an hour after he leaves I take a walk around my apartment because I was starting to go cross-eyed. The whole time I'm trying my best to ignore the noises from downstairs.

The Host Club had been slowly getting more popular over the week. There was always a steady stream of customers entering and exiting their place. Our paths hadn't crossed much since they invited me to dinner, but whenever they did I was reminded of my invitation to stop by.

I finish my walk, pick my paintbrush up again, and almost immediately set it back down. The noise was really starting to throw off my concentration, and it wasn't like I could just ask them to quiet down. I pick up my backpack from where it was laying on the ground and pull my earbuds from it. I put them in my ears, no music playing because at this point I just need some quiet. They work for a while, muffling the noise to a level I can deal with. Sure silence would be better, but I had neighbors now. I was just going to have to get used to it.

I manage to finish up the woman's hair before one of my earbuds falls out. This, unfortunately occured in the same moment as what sounded like a group of girls all getting up at once squealing at something. I feel something on my face twitch as I check my phone. 4 o'clock. Just calm down Caelie, I try to reason with myself. It was only one squeal, and by most people's standards they really weren't being that loud before. I take a deep breath, put the earbud that fell out back in again, and turn my focus to the man in the painting. I'm just about to start on his hair when they all start squealing again, this time one I could hear even with the earbuds in. A third one follows soon after.

I drop my brush on the ground and slam my easel onto the coffee table. I yank the remaining earbud out of my ear as I walk to the door, swinging it open and storming down the steps. I don't bother knocking on the door, throwing it open as I start yelling, "Okay, I get that this is what you guys do for a living or whatever, but you have been making noise since I woke up and I can't work with all the racket you're making. I get that you're probably used to doing whatever you want to, but this is an apartment complex where other people live so you really need to start acting like it!"

I finally look around the room, noticing that it has gone very quiet. It was a lot busier than I had expected at dinnertime. Especially if they were getting ready to be done for the day. And they were all staring at me. That cools my anger a little, but not enough to start apologizing. I look around, "Well?"

They are all looking at each other, having a silent conversation. "You look stressed Caelie, is everything alright?" Honey eventually asks.

"Perhaps," Kyoya gets up and walks across the room, "Caelie and I should talk about this outside. Please, enjoy the rest of your visit ladies" he smiles at them before shutting the door behind the pair of us. He turns to look at me, arms crossed.

"I really hope you're not expecting me to apologize," I say, crossing my own arms and glaring at him.

"I suspect that even suggesting it would just make you angier," he says, "though you do have to understand that you can't just burst into the room to yell at us while we have guests."

"Oh, so you guys can't be disturbed, but I just have to suffer through the racket you're making while you're working?"

"Of course not," he shakes his head. "I'm in the process of correcting that, but it's taking longer than I thought. Andy knows about it already."

"What exactly are you talking about?"

"Sound proofing," he shrugs. "When we were first negotiating the rate for our rooms, Andy made his concerns known about the noise. Apparently you all are used to peace and quiet for the most part."
"Well, most people go somewhere else to work," I grumble.

He continues like I hadn't said anything, "I assured him I would have the apartment we worked in sound proofed at the Club's own expense. Unfortunatly, that work hasn't been completed as soon as I believed it would be. I'm terribly sorry that this has caused a delay in the work that you're doing."

I grind my teeth, taking a few moments to answer, "Well… I suppose… if this is going to get done soon."

"It shall be done within the week," he promises, before adding, "and I'll ensure that the noise doesn't rise to a point that has any more neighbor's complaining."

"Right then," I nod, "that seems… acceptable. Thank you for letting me know… and I'm sorry," I add quickly. "I probably should have come down here to ask you to be a little quieter before my temper got the better of me."

"Yes, well you were always the hot-headed one," he smiles innocently, "Though the peace and quiet is new. Care to explain that to me?" I look him in the eyes, trying to tell what he's actually thinking. It's almost impossible though, like a thin layer of varnish preventing me from seeing the true colors on an old painting.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I say coolly, turning on my heel and heading back up the stairs. Not quickly enough though, because I can hear him laughing until I reach the landing for my floor. Ignoring him and quickly shutting the door behind me, I take a breath and lean against it for a couple minutes. Once I feel the remainder of the heat leave my face I walk back over to my easel and pick the paintbrush up from the ground, a small splatter of paint now marking where it had once been. I pick the easel back up and go back to finishing the piece.