Chapter Text
When she heard loud moans from what was obviously a porn video, she decided enough was enough. Sansa knocked for the first time on the wall she knew she shared with someone who apparently had been raised in a cave.
“Hey! Could you turn it down?”
Receiving no response, she sighed: she had held on for a week, not giving in the temptation of complaining about the constant noise that was coming from the adjacent apartment, because she knew she would have come off as an uptight girl that didn’t know how to have fun. And as she had just moved in what she hoped would be her home for at least a few years, she had originally decided not to let her neighbors label her right at the beginning.
So she endured the music, the drilling at 7 am, the dishwasher at 1 am, the clattering, and any kind of noise that can be considered annoying. In return, she had acted like the perfect neighbor, hoping that would show the man how civilized people lived.
But, as already said, enough was enough.
The third time she knocked, the audio stopped.
“I’m sorry, did you say something?”
She had heard his voice a few times before, but never so clearly: he must have been standing right next to the wall like she was. It was a deep voice, a voice that she might have liked if it wasn’t so obviously amused by the situation.
“Yes, I was wondering if you would be so kind as to lower the volume of you laptop.”
“Wow, so well spoken, aren’t we? Well why, is that bothering you?”
“Yes, actually. I have a friend coming over in a few minutes.”
“And we wouldn’t want to shock her”
“Exactly”
“Very well then, as you wish milady”
“Thank you.”
“Just one question though, will I spend the rest of the night hearing about her brother’s love life?”
At that, Sansa held her breath: one thing was to be intentionally annoying, another was to pay attention to your neighbor’s conversations enough to remember the details.
“What?”
“What? Isn’t that what you’re interested in? You’re not very subtle, I must tell you.”
Panic began to rise in her chest; she knew the wall was paper thin, much thinner than what she had ever heard, but the realization that he could hear her just as much as she could hear him dawned on her altogether for the first time.
“Did someone tell you to listen to me?” She knew it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear, but she was still processing what that meant.
“What?”
“Did someone ask you to listen to me?!” She screamed, frustrated with the situation.
“Woah, no. It was just hard not to, with you basically shouting at your phone everyday.”
“I don’t shout.”
“But you do speak very loudly.”
“I do not.”
“Yes you do.”
She sighed; he was just being an asshole, nothing worse.
“Just… whatever, don’t talk to me ever again and I promise I’ll try to lower my voice, okay?”
“Okay, okay, and uhm… my lady?”
“What.”
“I’m sorry if I upset you.”
She didn’t answer, but simply walked away, knowing he could hear her doing so.
When Margaery came over, she found an excuse to sit with her at the table in the kitchen area rather than the sofa that was right at the cursed wall.
* * *
Besides the original anxiety caused by the sense of lack of privacy, that short… conversation with the man had actually improved the situation. She could still hear everything he did, as that was no one’s fault other that of whoever was responsible for that wall, but the loud noises in the middle of the night had stopped. In return, she had been checking her tone whenever speaking at the phone, always on the other end of the studio apartment. She realized, now, she might have been slightly annoying as well: it wasn’t just the phone, she noticed she left the television on even when she wasn’t watching it and sometimes she would blow-dry her hair late at night. She didn’t like the fact she wasn’t free to do as she pleased in her own house, but then she figured, he probably didn’t either. And if he was making an effort, she could try as well.
A month passed and the incessant rain on a cold Friday night gave her the perfect excuse to stay in and indulge in some guilty pleasures. Besides, he (who still didn’t have a name) probably wasn’t home. He never was on Fridays, she could often hear him come home later than her, probably drunk considering the way he’d stumble into everything, and cursed every time.
So she turned on the TV and put on the latest episode of Big Brother: she’d never admit it to anyone, but she ate all of the trashy reality shows up and not even ironically.
Of course she could see how stupid and scripted and badly acted they were, and yet she truly enjoyed those alternate realities, where everything was loud and exaggerated. Halfway through the episode she was completely invested in what the blonde girl was saying in the confessional, when a raw voice right behind startled her.
“Oh my god, do you think he cheated on her?”
She screamed and jumped on her feet. The voice was so near, it had felt like he was right there sitting next to her.
“I know, I know, no more eavesdropping, but look it’s not my fault, and you know it.”
“You could go somewhere else rather than staying literally a foot away from me.”
“But that’s where my bed is!”
“Oh”
“Yeah, so you see, I had decided to go to bed early tonight and contemplate the futility of life, but all I can contemplate is Clarissa’s mental breakdown over a text.”
“Well, you could always move your bed.”
“You’re right! I should definitely rearrange my whole apartment just because you moved in.”
“It’s not like the wall wasn’t thin before I moved in!”
“But no one had stayed more than a fortnight before running away.”
“Ah! So you were doing it on purpose.”
“Well, you can thank me. That’s why your rent is so low now.”
“Oh my, maybe I really should be thanking you, my lord.”
“My lord?”
“You did call me my lady, and I don’t know your name.”
Sansa heard a laugh, and couldn’t help but calm down; there was something about his voice, something that made her want to listen to it more. She didn’t want to admit it though, so she just lowered her TV’s volume a little, and in no time she heard a soft snoring from the other side.
The third time they spoke was two months later, on Christmas Eve: she had hoped up until last minute that he would leave so she could spend the holiday in peace by herself, but it looked like that wasn’t going to happen.
“I say we have a drink”
It was just after 9 pm, and Sansa was looking through Netflix catalogue trying to ignore the knot in her stomach whenever a Christmas movie would pop up.
“I don’t drink.” She answered, sitting comfortably on the couch and covering herself with two blankets.
“You don’t… wait, how old are you again?”
“24. I only drink on occasions”
“and Christmas isn’t occasion enough for you?”
“I don’t have anything in the house...”
“Ah, that’s a shame, it means I’ll have to drink for you too then.”
“I’m sure that’ll be so hard on you”
“Well, you know me” he said, as he walked away, probably getting his drink.
And to be honest, it was like she was starting to get to know him. She knew what music he listened to, what movies he liked, his work schedule, his opinions on various topics (okay, so she also could hear his phone calls, sue her: it’s not like she did it on purpose). She knew he was often bitter about everything, and that was one of the reasons why she was sure he was much older than her and probably had a boring office job. It was like having an invisible roommate.
“So, what movie are we watching tonight?” He asked as he returned.
“I don’t know, I was in the mood for a rom-com, but they all seem to be about Christmas.”
“Not a fan?”
“It’s just… hard.”
There was a short moment of silence in which she prayed he wouldn’t ask her to elaborate.
“That makes two of us” His tone was light as he drank a sip, and she was glad that was all he was going to say about it. Desperate for some company, though, she decided she wasn’t going to let the conversation end so soon.
“What do you say we watch the stupidest movie possible and make fun of it?”
“I think that’s the most millennial thing I’ve heard you say.”
“Are you in or not?”
And so they watched a Noah Centineo movie - “I mean, he’s not even the main character”- with Sansa describing what was happening and the man commenting or laughing or loudly cringing at the plot. She could hear him refilling his drink from time to time, hear his voice was growing deeper and his words getting a bit more slurred, but she didn’t mind.
By the end she was feeling so comfortable she had almost forgotten he wasn’t on the couch next to her: which was convenient, as she could be in her pajamas in the safety of her own house whilst still in his company.
“The app wasn’t even called swiped!”
“Exactly”
“Well, after this incredible masterpiece, I’m afraid I will try to get some sleep now. I have to wake up early tomorrow, lucky me.”
Oh, so he does have Christmas plans.
“I’m sorry I kept you up...”
“No, no, please. I should actually thank you, I haven’t had a good laugh in a while.”
“You sure?”
“Of course”
“Okay, I guess that’s good night then.”
“Good night, my lady.”
“Night, my lord.”