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The next morning, Connor woke up to loud banging coming from next door. The banging continued for a good few seconds before being replaced by some choice words. Connor remained on his bed, just listening to the swearing and wondering if his new neighbor was aware of the thin walls.

Things remained quite until that evening. Connor was reading on his bed when he heard a loud dull thud, followed by a yelp and another set of colorful words. The voice wasn't menacing by any means, but he could easily read the frustration in the other man's voice. He had to wonder what had happened. Perhaps his neighbor dropped something heavy on his toe?

Connor tried to imagine this new neighbor. Probably someone in his twenties, judging from the language and the voice. Probably some frat boy-type with a lean build. Probably blond. Most likely blond. Maybe a tattoo on his arm.

Before he could speculate further, he heard a familiar knock, followed by what had to be Michaela coming in through the front door. He muttered under his breath and made his way into the living, because no way in hell was he going to risk having her march into his bedroom. That was off limits. Michaela had a brown paper bag in one hand and a purse in the other. Initially, he had been quite angry with her for just barging in whenever she felt like it, but he learned to ignore it. She was stubborn and he didn't have the energy to argue against, so he let her be.

"OK, you're going to take this and eat, or I swear I'm going to actually kill you. And let's not forget, we've all studied how to get away with murder," Michaela nearly yelled as she stormed into the living and shoved the bag onto her friend's chest. Connor took it and continued to stare at her.

"Seriously. Eat it. Now," Michaela placed her hands on her hips and put on a expression that meant business. Conner didn't have much of an appetite, but at the same time he also knew that he hadn't eaten in a long while. He opened the brown paper bag and saw that she had brought him his favorite sandwich from the shop a few blocks down.

"OK, fine," he muttered as he discarded the bag haphazardly onto the couch and took a bite. He wasn't in the mood, but he knew that Michaela was watching him, so he chewed mechanically and forced the food down his throat. His stomach immediately protested, but he did his best to ignore it for the time being.

"So," she began after a few minutes of silence. "I see that you have a neighbor now."

Connor raised his eyebrows. So he hadn't been hearing things. Someone had moved in.

"I saw a bunch of empty boxes right outside next door. Not sure if it's a man or a woman though."

"Man."

"What?"

"It's a man."

"And...how do you know this?"

"I can hear him."

"You can hear him?"

"From the bedroom. He makes a lot of noise."

"He was probably unpacking," she replied as she sat by him. "So, we were all wondering if you wanted to join us for a movie?" she asked, trying her best to sound casual but failing miserably.

"I'll pass," Connor answered into his sandwich. He had anticipated this attempt at trying to get him out of the apartment. He just hoped that she wouldn't continue to bother him about it.

"Come on, I heard it's really good."

"I'm fine," he answered a bit more forcefully. Michaela opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself. She recognized that tone of voice. He wasn't going anywhere and that was final.

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With Michaela out of his apartment again, Connor was back in his bedroom with another book in his hand. He knew he was going to end up with the book opened to a random page and him staring off into space. He climbed onto the bed and sat against the wall by the head of he bed. He was flipping through random pages of the book when he heard noises again.

It was from his neighbor again.

There were a few dull thuds and then silence. Then singing. Yes, actual singing.

Connor closed the book and listened. He couldn't make out the exact lyrics, but he could hear the soft, lulling voice. He continued to picture this mystery man. He was starting to picture him with dark brown hair instead of blond, and the frat-boy image was soon replaced by that of a poor musician. Skinny. Definitely skinny.

Then there was another very loud thud, followed by an elongated "fuck" that just had Connor break into a chuckle. What was with this guy and and banging into things? Or was he dropping shit onto his feet constantly?

Connor waited for more noise, but none came. No thumping, no singing.

He fell asleep that night wondering if his neighbor was blond or not.

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Connor's eyes snapped wide open into darkness. For a brief moment, he was so disoriented that he couldn't tell exactly where he was. It took some time for his vision to adjust, and one by one, he could make out the familiar objects of his room.

Connor had to continuously remind himself that it was just a nightmare. A horrible, horrible nightmare. His hands were still shaking against the sheets, and he was vaguely aware of the film of cold sweat covering his entire body. He forced himself to inhale and exhale, because he was sure that he couldn't breathe otherwise.

He was shaking now. Trembling uncontrollably from both fear and the sheer trauma from having to relive the worst moment of his life through this recurring nightmare. He was starting to believe that he would never be able to move on from this point of his life. He was stuck here, in this quicksand of nightmares and misery, and he wanted so badly to stop feeling like this.

But he didn't know how. It only got worse. The darkness was consuming him, cell by cell, fiber by fiber, and he was losing the little willpower left in him to get his life back.

He jumped when he heard loud, almost frantic knocking coming from the front door.

That couldn't be Michaela. And there was no way that he had a visitor, especially not at this time of the night. He slowly made his way towards the door, doing his best to not make any noise. He didn't want to give anyone any impression that he was in here.

He looked through the peephole and saw an unfamiliar man standing, fidgeting and pacing in a small circle. Who the hell was this?

The man knocked again, sending Connor stepping backwards in surprise. He tripped over another pair of shoes and had to slam his hands against the wall next to him to keep himself from falling flat onto his back.

"Uh, hello?" the person on the other side asked, and the voice sounded too familiar to ignore. "Is everything alright in there? I heard screaming and I swear I'm going to call the cops!"

Connor massaged his temples. Goddamn it, he had been screaming again. Until now, it hadn't caused any trouble because he didn't have a neighbor, but now he did, and damn it all to hell, how was he going to get out of this? This neighbor looked like he meant business, and he really didn't want to get the cops involved.

"I-I'm fine," Connor blurted out and winced at his hoarse, broken voice. He sounded like he had been screaming for quite some time.

"I don't mean to intrude, but can you open up? Do you need any medical help? Do you want me to call 911?" His neighbor continued to fire away rapidly, and Connor just knew that this man wasn't about to let go. "Hello? Are you there?"

Connor realized he had no other choice.

He opened the door and finally came face to face with the new neighbor.

The man was not at all short. Not at all skinny. He was neither the frat-boy type or the starving musician type. He was quite well-kept, with short dark hair and a surprisingly expressive pair of eyes.

"I, uh, I'm sorry, I just...I wasn't sure if I should call the cops or not," his neighbor continued, suddenly looking nervous and unsure of himself.

"Everything's fine," Connor replied, clearing his throat.

"You haven't..murdered anyone, have you?" the other asked, and Connor wasn't sure if he was joking or not. He wanted to think that his neighbor was trying to be funny, but the other man looked completely serious and a little too afraid.

"Even if I had, I wouldn't tell you now, would I?" Connor replied, forcing a grin onto his face, hoping that some humor might alleviate the situation. He didn't want to continue this conversation for very long. He just wanted to return to his room and mope? Try to sleep? Stare at the ceiling? Anything but this.

"I guess that's true. Um, I'm Oliver, by the way. I just moved in a couple of days ago ago and uh, wow, I'm just realizing that this might not be the best time for introductions."

"I'm Connor," Connor replied before he could stop himself. He had no intention of letting his name be known, but it sort of came out by reflex.

"Nice to meet you, Connor. I'm sorry about all this. I just freaked out. I guess I'll just return to my room now, and please don't murder me if you actually are a murderer."

With those words, his neighbor, who now he knew as Oliver, was gone. Connor returned to his bedroom as well. He hadn't talk to anyone other than Michaela for over a month now, but now he had. This week was quickly growing worse with each day, and all he could do now was just pray that he wouldn't have another nightmare to make things worse.

Please review and let me know what you guys think about this fic (nervous!)