Alec Meets His Neighbour {AH}

Our flats are opposite each other and your kitchen window faces mine so we always see each other making coffee at 3 a.m. This may sound odd. Who makes coffee at three in the morning? Most sleep at this time, some only just going to bed. But I do, and you do. I don't know what you get up to though. I, on the other hand, am a student. So, I have many things to get done–assignments, coursework, reading.

If you notice me from your window, I'd divert my gaze, pretending not to see you. But during those times that we do lock eyes, you'd smile and wave. Which I'd return by saying "Hi." Stupid. Because how could you hear me from all the way over there? This is why it's better if I pretend not to see you.

I pour my steaming hot coffee and bring it with me to my table. The table is overcrowded with books. Thick, heavy books. Open and overlapping each other. I push some aside to make room for my coffee. I have an exam tomorrow–on Anatomy–so I'm putting in extra work. I love Anatomy, because it's so relatable, I guess. For once, I can actually see what I'm studying on my body–most of it anyway–as opposed to biological molecules.

A knock on my door breaks my concentration. Adjusting my glasses, I get up to go to my door. Probably not wise to open the door to mysterious knocking in the middle of the night but I do it anyway. In my defense, it was a safe neighbourhood, no burglaries, no murders–that I know of.

I swing it open and there you are in all your rumpled glory. You have a t-shirt and slacks on and bunny slippers.

"Hey there," you say. "I'm Magnus Bane." Up close, I can see all the defined features of your face–all sharp angles and soft features at the same time.

It was a little quiet after that as I anticipate what you're going to say next. And then I realise I was supposed to introduce myself. "Oh! Uh, I'm Alec–Alexander. Alec." I inwardly groan. "My friends call me Alec."

"Okay, Alexander," you smile crookedly. I have a sense that you are laughing at me. "Nice to meet you."

I nod.

"So, I don't want to keep you from your astounding amount of work," you gesture at the pile on the table behind me. "I came for some sugar."

"Oh, of course. Come in. I mean, no, don't come in," I say as I remember the mess of a state my flat is in. "I'm sorry. If you wanna come in–"

You laugh. "That's okay. I'll wait out here."

"Great." I swivel around and go to get the sugar. "Here you go," I say as I hand them to you.

"Thank you," your fingers brush against mine as you take the cup.

I close the door, locking it shut as soon as you leave. Resting my forehead against it, I try not to relive the cringiest exchange in my life.

xxXxx

It's been a week since we met that night. And I've successfully not bumped into you. Well, we've never bumped into each other before anyway. But I am still thankful. I don't think I can ever see your face and hold a coherent thought much less articulate them into words.

My routine goes a little something like this; go to class at 9 a.m., endure long hours of lectures, lunch break, more lectures and then only get to go home at 7 p.m. Of course this would change once I start clinical years.

But today is an anomaly because classes in the evening are canceled. So, I get to go home and nap.

As I walk up the path to my flat front door, I hear someone call my name. Lo and behold, it was you.

Have you seen me see you? Can I still pretend I didn't see you and bolt for the door?

Alas, you've caught up to me.

Panting a little, you say, "Boy, this must be my lucky day. I never see you outside."

I laugh, although it sounds unnatural–like I'm dying. Which I am.

And there was that awkward silence again where you're just staring at me and I'm just trying not to spontaneously have a seizure right this moment.

You finally break your reverie and say, "So, there's a party tonight at the room next to mine. I'll see you there."

There was no question in that sentence. You are telling me to go.

And with that, you jogged away.

xxXxx

Party is an understatement. This is a rave. I'm surprised no one called the police yet. Then again, I'm pretty sure the whole floor is in this room right now. So, really, who was there to complain.

There is dance music, lights that gave out neon streaks, a disco ball and a keg. It was all college students here, so that was good.

I've been trying to find you for the last 20 minutes and am about to leave when you let out a loud hoot as you see me.

"Alexander!" you shout. "There you are!"

I tap my red cup against yours. "Here I am."

You down all your drink. "Come meet my friends."

I follow you to a group of good-looking people lounging on the sofa.

"Scott, my partner-in-crime–literally. Ragnor and Catarina, my childhood friends. Raphael, my friend-ish," Raphael drinks to that. "And Camille, my beautiful new friend."

Camille gets up and presses up against you. "Just a friend?" She leans in and kisses you on the mouth.

You kiss her back for a second and pull away.

After your friends leave us both alone to go dance, you ask me, "What do you do in college again, smarty pants?"

"Pre-med."

You're filling your cup. "Follow me."

We walk up narrow steps of metal stairs. They're all rusted and unsteady.

Upstairs, it is a smallish room that houses drum set, guitar, bass and a speaker. It's a band set. The ceiling here is very low so you and I have to slump forward.

"You're in a band?" I ask.

You toss your drink back and shake your head. "Sco-ott's," you hiccup mid-name.

And suddenly you're too close to me. You have your face so close to mine and your breath smells like rum.

My heart speeds up as you lean in closer. And then our lips touch.

And before I know it, we're kissing. We're actually kissing. You have your hands in my hair and mine are grabbing your shoulders.

I have you pushed up against the wall. And we just keep kissing, like we're addicted to each other.

"Alexander," you whisper.

"I think you can call me Alec now," I breathe.

"But I don't want to be just your friend."


Thanks for reading, loves! x

Disclaimer: All characters belong to thy queen, Cassandra Clare.