Chapter Text
Mom. Please shut up.
Your mom’s voice drones on and thumps into your ears like a ricochet bullet. Of course she needs someone to vent to, but her 17 year old is not who she needs to be discussing this with. You should be the one she’s consoling.
You know she means well, you really, really do. But somewhere deep in your own mind, you want to grab that steering wheel and make her complain about wrecking instead of where she thinks your dad is right now. You don’t want to know.
You don’t want to grab the steering wheel. You don’t. You don’t. You don’t. You don’t.
Before you can even humor that thought, you take a deep, calming breath and shoot a warm smile to your sister. You know she doesn’t want to hear this either. She looks so sad. Her head twitches every time your mother spits out an insult that will never be heard by your father.
And thank God your youngest brother is sound asleep back there, head tucked over a rather comfy looking pillow in front of a few stuffed boxes and travel bags. This car was way too small to be able to fit all that valuable stuff.
You lean forward and give a few ‘mhm’s and one ‘oh, I know it’ while you rummage through your own bag chock full of clothes and dvd’s. A small walkman finds its way to your grasp and you lean back with a warm smile, handing it to your little sister.
Not so little anymore, you think. She’s almost in high school now. Runnin’ with the big leagues. Certainly no time to be moving halfway across the state to the middle of nowhere. Bye bye Jersey, hello Nockfell.
Your sister gives an overly dramatic mouthing of thank you when she rolls her eyes at your mother, popping in the headphones and sighing as she leans back. Her hair is getting so long and you can’t help but smile when you notice her posture slack in the rear view.
Taking care of your sister like that was no big deal, it’s normal now. Big sisters are supposed to be like that, especially when mom’s can’t be emotionally stable in times of dire need. Like now, last year, and the year before that.
You’ve been your sister’s rock for a while now, you suppose. She’s your best friend, and what are friends for?
You drift off after your mother squeaks out her last near-sob sigh of surrender for the hour and all is well.
-
The potholes in Nockfell know no boundaries. You’d think that the main road leading into the town would at least be kind enough to give you a warm welcome; not bump you awake and force you to read the ironically unwelcoming sign. Welcome to Nockfell! in full, lifeless colors. Fitting for the situation ahead, you sigh out a laugh.
“Almost there!” Your mother wearily announces to nobody, your head snapping to meet her with a worn, fake grin.
“Woo-hoo.” Your sister drones from the back, unenthusiastically enough to draw a small chortle from you. Your brother stirs.
“Come on, Nell.” Mama snaps back quickly. Her tone is always too desperate to come off nicely, henceforth deeming her rude by the rest of the family. This time, though, there’s a sort of yearning in her voice. She needs this to work and she needs all of the family to help each other in this transition, she says.
14 year old drama queens don’t make things easy. Nell slumps back and crosses her arms, eyes out the window opposite of your brother, still sound asleep.
-
“Oh.” You let slip before realizing you said it. Addison Apartment’s in a disgusting shade of green is splayed plainly in front of the not-so-up to date building. Brick sits atop a foundation of the ugliest mauve color you think you’ve ever seen. This should be great.
You all sit in a sort of silence when you’ve taken in your surroundings, car shutting off and being parked in the residency area.
Weird. There isn’t an owner’s parking space, just seems to be tenants only parking over here. In the old apartment the landlord had their own space and office away from the building. This isn’t Jersey, though. Nothing remotely comparable to the hustle and bustle of constant beeping, screaming, and liveliness.
You miss your friends. At least you all exchanged numbers before you left and set contacts in your mother’s phone. But… Let’s derail that train of thought before you start to cry again. Your eyes are already bloodshot enough from lack of sleep and anxiety.
“Girls,” Your mother sighs, hands falling to her lap and looking between the two of you, “Why don’t you head up to 403 and get the keys. Let me get some help with our things, alright?”
You nod to her with a polite smile and open your doors, soggy, humid air slapping you in the face. It’s March and it feels almost a trillion times worse here than Jersey. You scrunch your face up at the tall pine trees sporadically placed around the lot.
You open the hatch of the car, grabbing a couple of suitcases of your own respective items after Nell. You catch her stuffing the walkman into her *own* bag, which you would’ve cared more about if you weren’t so tired.
Beyond the jutted pine needles, you catch a glimpse of what seems to be a box shaped treehouse in the branches of an oak tree. It looks tattered and relatively creepy at this time of night, especially with the fog rendering your vision useless. Great.
The closer you let yourself walk to the front steps, the worse you felt.
“This looks like shit.” Nell chimes behind you, her hands fiddling with the hem of her jacket against the handle of her suitcase when she stares up at the tallest floor of the building, noticing how the decrepit windows are sealed haphazardly.
“Yeah.” You agree with a grunt of laughter, looking up and scratching the crease of your neck. Your hair is splayed against the back of your neck, strap of your backpack tugging it just right to annoy the shit out of you. “C’mon.”
You trudge in, a cold chill meeting you when you close the door with an elbow behind you both. The chill is a nice feeling compared to the wetness of outside. It must rain here a lot.
You both inspect the place, heads jutting back and forth in search of a front desk, only to find the mailboxes near the far end of the hall. Classy, you retort to yourself.
“403?” Nell chimes flatly in front of the mailboxes, setting her bag down and reaching into the unlocked space. “Found it.”
A small key with your apartment number is in her hands now, ushering to the only hallway left to trek. She gathers her things and you start your walk over.
The hallway is undoubtedly empty and seems up kept, floors next to spotless. You inspect the elevator doors and give thanks to whatever God there is that you don’t have to carry your bags up flights of stairs.
The doors all seem to be the same except one, a mail slot seemingly untouched staring back at you. The closer you inch the more alarm bells go off in your head to grab Nell, run outside and straight back to where you came from, never looking back.
You sigh heavily, anxiety easing when the doors meet you. Just as you’re about to click the button to freedom, a squeaking runs through the halls.
“Hello, hello!” A shrill, accented voice greets. You almost hold in a terrified gasp. Almost.
Looking beside the doors, the mail slot greets you with beady eyes. You blink. What the fuck is that.
“Um... hello.” You wave, swallowing thickly and smiling nervously to the unknown creeper.
“My goodness, child, I didn’t mean to alarm you!” He stumbles, eyes blinking back in remorse. “Allow me to introduce myself! I’m the owner of these fine apartments, Mr. Addison!”
”Fine apartments?” Nell whispers just loud enough for you to have to sock her in the chest with your elbow and hold your smile at the owner.
“Nice to meet you, sir.” You nod, face scrunching in a friendly manner.
“As to you. I take that you’ll enjoy your stay here! 403 is a lovely place; plenty of friendly people reside on floor four, I assure you.” He seemingly nods through his peephole. “If you have anything you need, be sure to let me know!”
He seems nice enough. Why would you judge someone right away like that? It’s not like you, usually. His energy is kindhearted and warm, even from behind that slot. Still, the feeling of dread doesn’t exit your gut, much to your dismay.
“Yessir, I’ll be sure to do that.” You meekly agree, pushing the button with a stale click noise thumping into the wall.
“Goodnight, and enjoy your stay!” He drolls, closing his gateway before you can get another word in.
Nell looks at you with an unreadable expression. You don’t allow yourself to humor it.
—
Nothing seems too off about your room at all, just a bunch of boxes next to a window facing some pine. Kind of pretty, this change of scenery. You feel like you’re in a movie with this fauna as your view.
You even put up some of your favorite posters where your bed frame rested and your tapestry one of your friends gave you for your birthday last year. Christmas lights wrap around the top of it, and voila. Your wall decor is complete. Nothing in your room really stands out as eerie per se.
It’s the living room that gives you the cold chill up your spine and you swear that carpet looks darker in some spots than others. It smells like too much Lysol and fresh paint.
The small place came half furnished with a couch and side tables, covered in clear tarp, which your mother opted to throw your old couch cover over. It smelled like home again when you sat down to look at the television, getting antsy for your mother’s phone to be free. Nell settled into her own cluttered room and Tate in Mom’s, you do the same in the living room, watching a new home unfold.
Nothing like Jersey, you nag at yourself, not letting a positive thought about this place creep into your head. It’s off. Something is wrong.
Before you can worry yourself more with that strong of thought, a quick tapping is heard beside you and an unplugged lamp on the side table, threatening to fall over at any second.
“Oh, Jesus, dude,” you scoff. Visitors? Now? It’s almost half past 10 and you’re decked out in a dirty band shirt of Mom’s, mismatched socks and flannel pants. This is no attire to make first impressions. Nonetheless, they know you’re all home and it’s be rude to leave them hanging.
Quickly pattering to the door, you creak it open and peek past the corner of the old wood.
“Hi!” A kind smile hails to you, gap prominent in his teeth. The tall, lanky boy is holding a pan covered in Saran wrap and hiding what seems to be a cobalt headed girl next to him, stunting neat pigtails and an eerie mask. You’re taken back by the sight of her, jumping when your eyes meet her azure ones.
“Oh! Um,” you notice he looked back at her and smiled. So she’s nit a threat, got it. You tuck back your hair and give a meek wave. “Hello.”
The long haired brunet wavers on his feet, eyes darting between the food offering and you, then back to the mysterious girl beside him.
“Heard you guys finally got here, sweet. My mom let me know beforehand so...” He handles the dish towards you, kind of peeking past and trying to avert his gaze inside.
“We made you somethin’ to welcome you to Addison.”
This guy is kinda cute. Super sweet too, that’s rare to find. Maybe it’s just because he doesn’t know you or maybe it’s because his mom told him to be friendly. Either way, it’s a kind gesture so you take the dish gingerly into your grasp and nod.
Wait. Is that— Is that lasagna? Sweeeet.
“Oh, looks great, dude, thanks!” You peek under the wrapping and shoot a grateful expression. You’re getting more and more comfortable with these friendly folks by the second.
“Oh yeah, of course! My names Larry, by the way,” He stuffs his hands in his pockets with vigor. His head tips back to motion to the girl. “And this is Sal.”
Huh. Sal? As in Sally? Kind of a weird name for a girl, but nicknames have never been your forte anyway, so who are you to judge?
That thought is shattered when the blue haired one speaks.
“Welcome to Addison.” A deeper voice than expected bellows, waving at you quickly and a smile evident in his eyes. His hands clasp at his back and he teeters on his toes.
You take a second to reply, which probably looked rude as fuck. Sal isn’t a girl. Got it.
“Thank you, guys! Means a lot.” You stutter through the beginning of your sentence trying desperately to not sound some kind of stupid. At least as not stupid as you can in your pajamas, holding a plate of lasagna.
“Yeah, um,” The blue haired one stammers, pointing to the door over. “I live literally right there, so if you ever need anything, just give me a knock.”
Sal seems sort of nervous, shoving his hands into his back pockets and eyes darting around you. Little to your knowledge, he definitely is. He’s very grateful you’re looking anywhere but him right now.
“Oh, really?” You peer out of the door and nod with a gratified look.
“Yeah, he lives there and I live...” The taller boy taps his foot on the ground. “All the way down there, in the basement. If you need anything, I’ll get Mom to grab you a key card and we’ll help you with whatever.” His smile is inviting, you can’t help but find it contagious. These guys kind of kick ass. Nobody’s really this nice upstate.
“Alright, well, uh. Thanks again guys, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” You nod, trying desperately to end the conversation without seeming rude or awkward. That is until you almost let the plate slip from your hands as you step back.
“Oh, shit!” You struggle with the hold on it and your face falls victim to the blood rushing around your cheeks. Fuck.
Larry laughs to your dismay, hands at the ready to catch the plate. You can almost feel your ears turning more red than the ugly couch cover behind you, oh Christ.
“Careful! We made that special!” He teases, flashing a toothy grin.
Your face burns with every cell in your body trying to fight it, lips pursed in embarrassment. You’re the literal biggest klutz in the universe. Ever.
“Yeah, right.” Sal chimes in with a scoff. “After you almost burnt down the whole complex, dude.”
That makes you stifle a giggle, Sal turning to you quick and breathing out a soft laugh. His ears are kind of pink now, probably in secondhand embarrassment.
“Alright, alright.” Larry waves him off and stammers with defensiveness. He turns to you and nods curtly after a chortle. “Have a good night, dudette. Remember to let us know if you need anything.”
You wave them goodbye and assure them you will before closing the door with your foot, watching them turn on their heels and step out of your doorway.
You slowly slink down the underside of the door in shame, eyes squeezed shut and face pursed, listening to Larry giggle like schoolyard girl as they walk away. So much for first impressions.
You lean forward feel the dish, noticing a sticky note attached to the bottom. Tilting your head, you gaze at the note and pluck it from the underside.
When you’re done, return to room 402.
A small smiley face is drawn in the bottom left hand corner. You copy the tiny gesture and shake your head. Oh well.
Sal’s ears still burn when you shut the door, pulling at the hem of his shirt. Larry takes immediate notice and stifles his laugh from before.
“Dude? Okay, what was that?” He nudges his best friend, eyes facing down, face not falling.
“What?”
“Don’t play Mr. Dumbshit with me, man. You usually love meetin’ new folks.” He scoffs, rolling his hazel eyes.
“Just got nervous.” He shrugs with disdain. “She seems nice enough, it’s just a new neighbor. I got plenty of time to warm up to her.”
“Oh shit.” Larry grins maniacally.
“What?” The brunet doesn’t respond.
“What, dude?” Sal’s eyes shoot back and forth and brow furrows up at him, head shaking. Larry doesn’t respond
“What?!”
“Sal has a crush.” Larry beckons, poking his shoulder and sticking his tongue through parted teeth.
“Dude,” the blue eyed boy sighs.
“Shut up.”
—————