i’ve got high hopes
Liam is going to cry. He’s gonna make a burrito out of himself and his comforter and dampen his pillow case with his tears. All because his fucking neighbor didn’t understand the concept of common fucking courtesy.
Liam is losing his damn mind.
He moved in to the complex a week ago, excited at finally finding a place that was within his price range and was actually pretty decent looking. He’d thought he’d been blessed. He’d also been wrong.
Whoever his neighbor is, they’ve been hammering on the walls every single night since Liam moved in, at 3am. It never fails. Liam will crawl into bed around eleven, hoping and praying that that night is the one he’ll actually sleep the whole time, and he’s yet to get a full night’s sleep in the week he’s been in his new flat. It’s very inconvienent. Liam has work to do in the morning, like a normal person.
The pounding on the walls get louder and louder and Liam is done. He tries his best to be a level-headed person, never letting his patience leave him, tries to think positively.
He throws his blanket off him roughly, grabbing a tshirt and slipping it on quickly and makes his way next door. He knocks as loud and hard as he can, just to be obnoxious, wants this person to see how it feels. It’s petty, he knows, but he’s also running on very little sleep. He’ll be ashamed in the morning.
Liam hears the hammering stop, then the sound of feet shuffling to the door. It opens, and Liam stands there a moment, mouth agape and eyes wide. His neighbor is hot, holy shit. It’s a guy, probably around Liam’s age, and he’s shirtless. Tattoos are scattered all about his toned torso, along his lovely arms. His brunet hair is pulled up in a bun and it’s actually making Liam feel things. To top it all off, the guy is wearing skinny jeans. And they’re doing a very nice job of showing off the bulge in them. Liam swallows.
But then he remembers what he came here for, makes himself look back up into the guy’s eyes (fucking bright green, what the hell) and clears his throat. The guy raises a single brow at him in greeting, and Liam narrows his eyes.
“So I just moved into this apartment, and I realize I don’t really know how things work around here yet, but do you really have to hammer up all these picture frames at three o’clock in the morning?” Liam says, hopefully not too harshly. He’d rather not make enemies his first week of living in this complex, but. If he does, oh well.
The other eyebrow joins the first, the guy’s lips quirking up on one side. “M’sorry, mate. Didn’t realize I was disturbing anyone.” And wouldn’t you fucking know, his voice is actual sex. Of course. “It’s just,” the guy continues, unaware of Liam’s inner struggle, “I got some new artwork from my best mate, Zayn, and I’ve been trying to find the best spot for each piece.”
“At three o’clock in the morning?” Liam asks, stressing the time, because honestly, why.
The guy’s smile is a little bashful now. “Yeah, I uh, kind of have a bad habit of not going to bed until early morning hours?” He says it like a question, somewhat sheepish. “All the other tenants have gotten used to it, I guess. I forgot we had a newbie. I apologize for any trouble.”
He’s making it awfully hard for Liam to be angry.
“It’s… alright,” he replies slowly. “I’ve just got work in the morning, is all. Kinda hard to sleep with all the noise.”
“I’m really sorry,” the guy says, sincerely from what Liam can tell. “I’ll keep it down.” Thank god. “I’m Harry, by the way. Don’t think I got a chance to introduce myself yet,” he says, holding out one of his big hands.
Liam takes it, immediately wishes he hadn’t (it’s warm and strong and yes), and says, “I’m Liam. Nice to meet you.”
Harry grins at him. “Likewise,” he says, biting his lip and giving Liam a once-over.
Liam clears his throat for a second time. “Right, well, I should… go.”
“Alright,” Harry says, and if Liam isn’t mistaken, he sounds a bit disappointed.
“Gotta get some sleep,” he continues unnecessarily, rocking back on his heels. “Work in the morning, and all that.”
Harry huffs a laugh as he leans against the doorframe. “Yeah, you said.”
Liam flushes, scratching the back of his neck. “Right,” he says again. “Goodnight, Harry.”
“Night, Liam,” he says, winking at him.
Liam turns even more red and quickly heads back to his flat. As he’s settling back into bed, he secretly hopes Harry makes more noise so he’ll have to go back over there.
(They end up making the noise together a couple weeks later. Very loudly. Many, many times.)