The apartment came unfurnished but with free utilities. It certainly was spacious—two rooms, one of which he planned on using as a living area-slash-den-slash-office and the other as a bedroom, separate kitchen and dining areas, toilet closet, bath and open shower area, and a loft—definitely worth more than the asking price. The only thing he found lacking in it was that there was no balcony, due in part to the lowness of the apartment. It was on the first floor, while only rooms from the fifth floor on up had balconies. Usually having an area open to fresh air and space helped his writing, but he supposed the fire escape would serve just as well. And there were no window seats, but then again played the low-floor-level card. Window seats were reserved for the higher-up apartments, while only the penthouse had the French doors he craved. But he was living on a budget, and he was fine with what he had. At least the apartment came with an electric stove.
"It'll do," he told the landlord, who then laid out a contract on the bar separating the living and dining areas.
The landlord nodded sagely and handed him a pen. "Sign here and here, and initial here, here, and here." As he made the appropriate marks, the landlord continued, "Rent is due at the end of every month, on the thirtieth or thirty-first, depending on the month. Rules are strictly enforced, though I don't think we'll have much difficulty with that, they're rather simple and common-sense. The ground floor, as you know, is a museum, but in the back there's a bakery, and you're more than welcome in there." He picked up the contract and tore off the pack sheet. "Here's your copy, and I believe that's it. It's doing business with you, Mister Maxwell."
Duo nodded and handed the man his pen back. "Would it be all right if I moved my furniture in tomorrow?"
"Of course, of course." The man bowed once, then turned to leave. When he reached the door, he turned back as if remembering something vitally important. "All of our residents receive a complimentary newspaper each morning, and trash pickup is on Mondays and Fridays. If you have any questions or concerns, my number is written on the contract."
Again Duo nodded and held the door open. "Thank you, Mr. Landlord. I'll call if I need you." He closed the door behind the man before he could turn around and begin babbling again.
Sighing deeply, Duo stalked out to the fire escape and leaned on the rail. The air was crisper on this side of town, but somewhat stale this close to the ground. He'd have to get used to it. A change in scenery was just what the doctor ordered to get his mind off Quatre. It seemed everything that happened before was from another life, as if this new home turned him into a new man, with new responsibilities and interests. The only things that hadn't changed, it seemed, were his editor, Relena Peacecraft, and his book contracts. He'd even purged his refrigerator of any scrap of edibles, purchasing only the necessities for the overnight he'd have nothing. Tomorrow, while the movers brought in his new furniture, he'd restock his new refrigerator and pantry with whole new foods. Maybe he'd even experiment with different cuisines, like Italian or American. He was a new man now—why shouldn't he?
The door buzzed: he had a visitor. Duo pushed himself from the railing and sauntered to the door. He didn't exactly feel up for company, but he figured it was probably the landlord back with more details about the apartment. What he did not expect was there to be a teenager—a teenage girl, at that—standing in his doorway, in her arms a cellophane-wrapped plate of what appeared to be cookies. Her blue-black hair was cropped short in what he recognized to be a French pixie cut, half-hidden beneath a pale red beret. Sparking blue eyes peered at him from behind her bangs. The girl was clothed in a radical tight-ish blue and black jacket and black slacks, with her feet tucked into black boots. A bright red cloth bag hung around her waist from a strap that traced its way across her chest and over her shoulder.
She grinned and tipped him a two finger salute with a wink. "Hiya, mister! My name is Schbeker Hilde. I live with my mum up on the third floor. The Old Man told us you were moving in today, so we baked you these!" She presented him with the platter of sugary goodness. "We've been here all my life—that's sixteen years—so we know the ropes pretty well. That's apartment three-ninety-seven—give us a call or drop by if you need anything, kay?" The girl leaned over at the waist and rocked back on her heels, peering up at him.
"Um, okay," he stammered and examined the cookies through the translucent plastic. Golden-brown with dark lumps. "I'm Maxwell Duo. It's nice to meet you, I guess…"
Hilde gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide. "You're Duo-sama? The Duo-sama? Mama and I have read every book of yours! We buy them the instant they come out! I'm the president of your fan club at school! See—!" She reached around and dug through the bag. After a moment, she produced a business card-sized photo of Duo and flipped it over. On the back was an "official" notice stating her status. "We made them at the club after we got the pictures in. See, they're signed and everything! Oh, wait'll I tell everyone at school!"
"Really, I'd rather you not," Duo said, exasperated. "See, I've just been through a bad breakup, and I'd rather have my alone time…" He took the picture delicately and scrutinized the signature. It wasn't his. Oh well. Better not to burst her bubble on his first night. "I'm flattered," he said instead, and he was. "Well, I'm pretty tired, so—"
"Oh! Excuse me!" Hilde snatched the picture back and stuffed it in her bag. "Um, enjoy the cookies, and don't worry about getting the plate back to us any time soon. We're right upstairs—we know where you live!" She laughed at her own joke while he managed a watery smile. The girl continued without even noticing. "You get some rest, Duo-sama, and I'll come by tomorrow to help you move in!"
"Really, that's not necessary," he protested, but she was already gone, bouncing her way up the hall and waving. He sighed and closed the door. Dimly he wondered what had made her that hyper—was it her nature, or an outside influence? Maybe it'd be best not to drink the water… Duo placed the cookies down on the bar beside his copy of the contract and plopped himself down in the middle of the floor.
He'd brought a sleeping bag for the night, but the landlord had provided him with a temporary futon. Despite the lateness of the hour and his genuine fatigue, his mind was racing with the possibilities of his new life. Duo decided to stretch his legs and walk to the corner convenience store for a late-night snack. After securing the door to the fire escape and the windows, he pocketed his key and locked the door behind himself.
The cashier at the convenience store, also a teenage girl, was reading a book, leaning disinterestedly against the counter and smacking a piece of chewing gum, when he came in. Duo recognized almost immediately the book as being his latest and ducked his head. First the psycho neighbor, next maybe the clerk? Vexed, he decided then and there to start using a pen name.
Luckily, as she rang up his purchases—a bottle of water and a small carton of chocolate brownie ice cream—she didn't give him a second glance. Either she wasn't as die-hard as Hilde or she just didn't care, but Duo thanked his lucky stars and scurried back to his apartment as if his heels were on fire. He didn't stop long enough to even collect his receipt.
He ate the ice cream on the way home then managed to sneak back into his apartment without further incident. He pulled his laptop from his overnight bag and set it on the floor in front of him. His next deadline was looming, only a few weeks away, and he had nothing. This time his publishers, Gordon Enterprises, was threatening to pull his contract and cut him as an author if he didn't live up to the conditions. Unfortunately, this was his very last cut-off date extension before the term "deadline" turned quite literal. Relena already swore to have his head if he missed another deadline, though her tears and all. As usual, she broke into tears at the mere mention of the word "extension".
The words stubbornly refused to come. It wasn't that he was out of ideas—not at all. At night he couldn't sleep for the plot bunnies running rampant through his mind, reproducing and replicating until there was scarcely any room to breathe. His creative juices just seemed to congeal somewhere between his brain and his fingers. It was at these times he'd pay a visit to Quatre. After an hour or two of Quatre's attention and under his expert ministrations, Duo never failed to come up with the next big hit.
There he went again, bringing the demon Q-word into thought. Duo pulled his knees up and dropped his forehead on his kneecaps, thrusting his hands through his hair. He was a new man, damn it, he needed to start acting like it. Quatre's not here, he told himself coldly. You have to work with it, accept it, and live with it. Still, he couldn't help but feel lonely in his empty apartment. The shadows danced around him, mocking his frustrations. Sounds echoed, harmonizing with his sorrow. From somewhere deep inside the apartment a cold wind began to blow.
Duo stood and brushed his hands up over his arms. He stalked into what would soon be his bedroom to discover the window wide open. With a sigh he closed it again, then yawned and stretched. Now he was tired. Back in the living room he unfolded the futon and slid into it, pulling the unzipped sleeping bag overtop him as an extra blanket. Within moments he was sound asleep.
Hilde was waiting on his doorstep when he opened the door at six the next morning. Today she was dressed in denim coveralls, a green, yellow, and blue striped turtleneck sweater, and sneakers. Her head as bare, her hair brushed and parted neatly to the left. A black barrette held her bangs from her eyes. She was sipping a coffee cup while another sat on the floor beside her. When he opened the door, she rolled to her feet and presented him with the second cup and a rolled up newspaper.
"Here's your paper, and I bought you some coffee," she chirped. "Two creams and one sugar, right? I read that in a magazine eons ago. That's just something a fan club prez needs to know, doncha think?"
Duo winced and took the coffee. "Yeah, sure. Awful chipper for this early, aren't you? What're you drinking?" He'd barely managed to crawl out of bed and find a pair of jeans and a fairly-clean T shirt to wear, forget folding up his sleeping bag or futon. Coffee was vital—how could he have forgotten to pack his coffeemaker?
"Decaf mocha latte," she answered immediately, dancing in place. For some reason he trembled at the thought of her off decaf. "Where're you going?"
"To the store," he answered, sipping the drink. "What are you doing here so early?"
Hilde grinned. "I told you I'd help you move in, didn't I? Anyway, you go to the store, and I'll direct the movers when they get here. Kay? Leave it all to me!"
While he had doubts about leaving his furniture in the hands of a sixteen-year-old atomic-bomb-waiting-to-blow, she couldn't possibly do a worse job of arranging his stuff than he could. Why not? One less headache for the day. He let her in and continued on to the store.
ZN
Obviously this is different from the anime because in there Hilde and Duo were of similar ages, while here they're not—she's a teen and he's an adult. But that's okay. And if she's OOC, I'm sorry for that, too, but it's necessary. Anyway, I hope you liked it!