Chapter Text
Martin is not the type to be judgmental, but even he has to draw the line when his neighbour decides to move all of his furniture at 3am on a Friday night. Martin is even less so the type to actually get annoyed about it enough to take matters into his own hands and complain, but really, this is too much. And Martin is exhausted. And, quite frankly, Martin is very much ready to be asleep and to end the misery that this day has been.
So Martin gets up. He is just awake enough to remember to throw an oversized T-shirt on over his pajamas pants, but just groggy enough not to bother switching his pastel blue teddy bear slippers for something more… respectable. To hell with first impressions.
Martin leaves his flat unlocked and climbs up the stairs to Flat 4, right above his. A small, more conscientious part of him tells him that maybe he should wait a few days before complaining about noise. Martin’s only been here for two weeks, after all. But he shuts that part of him right up, and goes to knock on the door. The shuffling in the flat stops immediately. Martin can tell that the person on the other side has heard him, but they seem unsure about whether or not to open the door. Martin knocks again, louder this time. To hell with first impressions.
The person inside the flat seems to make up their minds, and soft footsteps make their way toward the door.
Martin makes a conscious effort to mold his features into an expression which would adequately transmit his exhaustion and annoyance. Maybe if his neighbour pities him then this will go more smoothly (and Martin has been told that he is easy to pity, take that as you will).
Finally, the door opens, and a man peeks out from behind it, like he isn’t sure what to expect. Whatever prep Martin had put into appearing angry and tired becomes useless in an instant as he observes the man in front of him. If Martin appears tired, then this man is positively lacking several days of sleep (if not weeks). Martin didn’t know dark circles could get so… dark. Almost like a reflex, his heart clenches, and he has to stop himself from asking the man if he’s okay. That… wouldn’t be appropriate, Martin thinks. Wouldn’t be appropriate even if the man in front of him looks like he really shouldn’t be standing, even if Martin can see strands of white in his otherwise black hair, even if he looks to be about thirty but carries himself like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, even if the pastel pink sweater with the words “What The Ghost?” in bubbly font seems to be swallowing his small frame whole.
“I… er… yes?” the man says, voice soft and whisper-quiet.
It takes Martin a few seconds to respond.
“Hi…” he says, “Umm- Martin. I’m… Martin, I mean- it’s nice to meet you?”
He didn’t mean for it to be a question, but he can’t stop it from turning into one.
“Oh… uh, I’m Jon,” the man says. And then he holds out his hand.
It’s 3am and Martin is wearing teddy bear slippers, and this man is almost swaying with tiredness, and Martin can’t think of a more awkward gesture than this handshake. He takes the man’s hand anyway, and shakes it. The man’s, Jon’s, skin is brown and cold and soft. Martin can see some papercuts along some of his fingers. He lets go before it becomes uncomfortable.
He waits for Jon to say something- then realizes that he’s the one who showed up on his doorstep in pajamas in the middle of the night.
“Jon- hi,” he finally says, “I’m sorry to bother you but…” Martin fumbles for words, “I was wondering… if you would- if you could, perhaps, just keep the noise down?” There, it’s out, well done me, Martin thinks. And yet he can’t stop himself from rambling on, “I don’t um, mean to be that one grumpy neighbor making a fuss about the noise you know, but it’s… it’s just been a long day… A really really long day actually, and I kind of need the day to be over, but I can’t sleep right now.” He feels like he’s forgetting something, but it comes back up, “Oh! I’m your downstairs neighbour by the way. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to introduce myself yet- just moved in a couple of weeks ago, you know?”
Jon blinks and stares at Martin like a deer in headlights. A very pretty deer, Martin thinks, with lovely golden-brown eyes. Jon looks back into his apartment, and then back to Martin, looking slightly embarrassed.
“Oh, I’m… very sorry,” he says, “I couldn’t sleep. But that’s no excuse of course, I know. I just haven’t lived in an apartment, with people so close by I mean, for a little while, and I didn’t even consider how noisy it might be.”
Jon looks down, almost sheepishly, and Martin follows his gaze down too. Opposite his ridiculous slippers, Jon is wearing a fuzzy white sock on one foot, and a Christmas-themed sock on the other. It’s July, but Martin isn’t about to comment on what appropriate footwear is.
Martin is aware that now is the time when he should accept Jon’s apology and go back to bed, but he’s so intrigued by his neighbour that he doesn’t want the conversation to end just yet. Or maybe he just needs to talk to someone, because he’s been cooped up inside his apartment all day. Maybe that’s why he just keeps on talking.
“So… you’ve just moved in as well then?”
Martin can tell that Jon wasn’t expecting the conversation to keep on going, and he looks a bit startled by Martin’s newfound enthusiasm for it. He still answers though.
“Oh, yes, I actually just moved my things this morning.”
And Martin thinks that Jon might leave it at that, but to his surprise he keeps on going, “I’ve been struggling to set up my Internet for the whole day…and night, really… And then I was so irritated by it that I couldn’t get to sleep, so I figured I might as well start unpacking.” As he says this, he looks at Martin and smiles apologetically, “And that wasn’t the best idea, obviously.”
He looks so miserable that Martin nearly forgets why he ever knocked on his door in the first place. The annoyance he felt for his upstairs neighbour has long since dissipated, and all that Martin feels now is worry for this man. Okay, and maybe a very miniscule part of Martin is also amused when he pictures Jon with his pink hoodie and mismatched socks, and who is seemingly just as young as Martin, spending an entire day struggling to get his Internet up. It’s a very cute image.
No, not cute, Martin reprimands himself. He tells his sleep-deprived self that what he really needs to do is sleep, and that his tiredness is the only reason why he would ever think that Jon is adorable. He’s sure that after a good night’s sleep he will realize that Jon is just a very average looking man, who is noisy at night, and who Martin will get annoyed by again. Right now though, Martin thinks that he really needs to leave Jon alone.
“Moving sucks, I fully agree with you. Um, I suppose I’ll leave you to it then? I’m going to try and get some sleep.”
Just as Jon was surprised by Martin keeping the conversation going, now he seems surprised that it is ending. He takes it in stride though.
“Oh, yes of course. Again, I’m very sorry I’ve been keeping you up.”
Jon starts to close his door, and really that should be the end of it, but- but Martin is exhausted and also Martin is lonely and also Martin thinks that Jon is very cute.
And maybe he’ll hate himself for it in the morning, but right now he can’t stop himself from adding, “I just set my own Internet up, so, err, I suppose that I could help you with yours if you’d like? Tomorrow, that is, because I’ll be useless until I’ve had a few hours of sleep. But I’ll be free tomorrow- or today, I guess? I suppose that technically we’re already tomorrow aren’t we?” Martin chuckles softly. “So just… come knock? If you need any help?”
Martin doesn’t wait for a reply before turning around and almost running down the stairs. It only takes him about 30 seconds to rush to his bed and collapse with exhaustion. It takes a little longer than that for his heart to stop racing in his chest.