Warning for: slash, domestic abuse, mentions of rape and violence, and bad language
This story only happened because of faulty air conditioning and fever dreams. And it only got finished thanks to the hard work of EvavH. Thanks so much awesome, you rock! I'd originally intended this as a oneshot...it appears I fail at following my goals...Anyway, readers, please enjoy!
Harvey came upstairs to the usual hush of his massive apartment building. On the top floor there were only a couple of other tenants, and he passed both their doors on his way from the elevators. His private elevator was nice, but he usually only used it to impress his dates. He liked the walk down the quiet hallway; it separated him from the rest of the world while the glass elevator placed him atop it.
Harvey's home was at the back of the hallway, so he had to pass the other two doors each time to get there. The first tenant on the floor was opposite the stairs, and much like Harvey, they were hardly ever home. The next door belonged to some photographer/artist/architect. Harvey couldn't remember what he did and he didn't really care to. He had only ever seen him emerge a handful of times, and they'd interacted on even fewer occasions.
He passed both doors and made his way to his own residence. Once inside, he set about making dinner and selecting programs from his television to watch, when he heard a loud thud coming from next door. Despite the sound-proofed walls, this wasn't an altogether unusual occurrence. His neighbor—the artist or whatever he was—was constantly producing loud noises, so Harvey paid it little mind and resumed his television watching.
After a few hours of viewing mindless television, he'd found himself unable to actually detach his mind from his work. Bylaws, briefs, and contracts still filled his head and were threatening a migraine. Longing for some peace of mind, he got dressed in workout clothes and headed for the downstairs gym.
He locked his apartment door and turned to head downstairs for the gym when he was met with a rather unexpected sight.
There was a raggedly dressed twenty-something-year old sitting on the floor outside the neighbor's door. He looked rather dejected as he slumped hunched against the wall. Much like the owner of the apartment, this kid looked like he belonged in some back alley somewhere, though he was considerably more attractive than Harvey remembered the tenant being-too scrawny for his own taste, but still nice to look at.
The man looked up at Harvey as he noticed he was being watched. Harvey thought his blue eyes looked a little watery, but then remembered he didn't care and resumed his walk to the gym. He passed by the kid, who gave him a weak and hesitant smile, tucking his legs further into himself so Harvey could walk by.
Harvey frowned back at him and took the stairs down. When he came back up, the hall was empty, and he was exhausted from his full workout. He forgot about the skinny blond.
…
Days passed before Harvey saw him again. This time it was late in the evening after Harvey had stayed extra hours in the office in an attempt to salvage a case his associate had almost ruined. He was trudging up to his apartment when he passed the blond in the hallway again. He was camped out in the same spot by the second door, looking like he'd been told his puppy had died. Harvey eyed him with the usual disapproving frown, and the kid gave him that same tentative smile.
When Harvey decided a late night gym excursion would successfully tire him out, the kid was still there in the hallway. The same frown/smile exchange took place as he passed, and again when Harvey returned.
The only thing he could come up with was that the kid was some relation of the annoying architect. He stopped thinking about it altogether when he remembered that he didn't care.
…
They settled into a sort of routine. Harvey would pass the kid in the hall for his nightly gym visit, they would exchange their opposing expressions, repeat the process as Harvey returned, and never speak any words.
Harvey grew so used to this routine that it actually confused him for a minute or two when he went out for one of his midnight workout sessions and found the hallway empty.
He reminded himself that he didn't care and started walking for the stairs. But as he passed by the neighbor's door he heard shouts and soft thuds. He stopped—listening in the hallway to what he hoped wasn't some sort of murder or domestic violence. He was too tired, and he convinced himself that not only was it none of his business, but it was probably just a movie playing too loud.
He went downstairs and didn't think about it again.
…
The next day was his day off. Usually, he went out and got some gorgeous woman who would be dazzled with his charming good looks, charming smile, and of course, his glass elevator. But recently, work had been too stressful. He just wanted to sit on his couch and watch old Star Trek reruns.
So it came as little a surprise to Harvey when his peaceful solitude was interrupted by a knock on his door. It was the meekest knock he'd ever heard, and he was actually amazed he'd heard it over the loud Theremin playing the theme to Star Trek.
He placed his beer on the coffee table (on a coaster, of course) and angrily approached the door. Through the peephole he could see the blond kid, nervously shuffling his feet, and it looked like he was carrying something.
Harvey sighed and rolled his eyes. He could just ignore it. He shouldjust ignore it. But for some reason unknown to him, he opened the door.
He didn't say a word, just glared at the blond.
"Hi, um, I…I'm Mike. Ross. Mike Ross. Heh. I uh, well—"
"I assume there's a reason you're annoying me?" Harvey prompted helpfully with a deceptive smile.
Mike froze, something not entirely unlike terror flashing across his face before he masked it with that same weak smile Harvey was so used to seeing. He held up the item he'd been holding, which appeared to be a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Harvey eyed them with disdain.
"They're cookies," he prompted dryly.
Harvey thought Mike shook a little as he continued, forced cheer in his now slightly trembling voice. "They're for you. I thought, since I always see you in the hall, it was silly that we didn't say anything, and I always make too many. They're made from my grandma's—"
Harvey shut the door in his face.
The next morning when he left for the office he nearly killed himself trying not to step on a plate piled high with the chocolate chip concoction. The kid had just left it outside Harvey's door, a napkin atop it with a hand-drawn smiley face written in sharpie. Harvey rolled his eyes and retrieved the cookies, replacing them on the floor where the blond usually sat in the hall. He tore the napkin in half for good measure, not sure why the smiley face bothered him so much.
…
Mike didn't appear for a couple of weeks after that, and Harvey hoped it meant he'd taken the unsubtle hint that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. The cookies had gotten the message through quite well, Harvey thought, until another day off found him and his science fiction marathon ruined by another meek knock.
The peephole showed Mike standing with another plate of cookies. Harvey collected his anger and squashed it down before tearing open the door. The motion startled Mike and he nearly dropped the plate he was holding.
"Hi. I figured maybe you didn't like chocolate chip, so I made some oatmeal ones."
Before Mike could say anything else, Harvey decided decisive action was needed. He grabbed the plate from Mike, causing the man to give him a beaming smile and a rushed "thank you" that he never managed to finish. Harvey shoved the plate back into the Mike's hands with great force, causing some of the cookies to fly off the plate. He said, in a rather calm and steady tone, "Mike. Go home," before he slammed his door and sank back onto the couch.
He was fairly certain Mike got the message that time.