Loud, Rude Love (OLD)

I am literally gonna end all of humanity within the next five minutes. I'm not joking. It's 2am in the fucking morning and here I am lying awake, listening to griana andre, contemplating the best way to set my neighbour's house on fire, without getting caught. Like seriously, if it wasn't for the legal repercussions, I would have started a small electrical fire by now. But I am sadly a law-abiding citizen (and I don't want to accidentally burn any of my stuff in the process)

Ugh.... seriously I swear this is the third time I've listened to this song, or maybe it's a different song? I don't fucking know anymore, it's all become a puddle of gross pop songs, they're all the same any way. They're either about a relationship, wanting a relationship or ending a relationship. So, they're all dumb.

I actually cannot take this anymore; I need mental support to stop me from committing multiple felons. I pull out my phone and message Milo.

MC: Miloooooooooooooooooo Help!!

MB: What?

Of course, they answer, they seriously never sleep.

MC: I need you to call the police for me, it is a matter of life and death!!!

MB: Oh? has someone finally come through on their threat to find and murder you?

MC: no, their all cowards

MB: true.

MB: Ok then, why do you need me to call the police? and who's life is at risk?

MC: My neighbours' life

MB: How so?

MC: simple, if they don't turn of their music, I am going to kill them 😀

MB: ?

MC: Their throwing a party, It started at like bloody 12:30 and is still fucking going

MC: I NEED SLEEP!

MB: sleep is debatable

MC: no, it's not really

MB: each their own, anyway, I cannot call the police

MC: Why TF not?!?

MB: Because, assuming you're not talking about Mrs O'Reilly and you mean your other neighbour.... um... James something? Whatever, I can't call the police on him cause then he'll call the police on my next party

MC: I am not talking about Mrs O'Reilly

MB: Good, because I wouldn't call the police on her either, and I would have to report if you murdered her.

MC: But not if I murder the other dude?

MB: I'd play dumb to it, but I don't recommend killing him.

MC: But you wouldn't care as long as I don't kill Mrs O'Reilly?

MB: Yep

MC: I cannot be bothered to question your weird infatuation with my ninety-five-year-old neighbour

MB: one word: Cookie

MC: fair

MB: anyway, why can't you call the police? your an anti-social ass, so they can't ruin your "party's"

MC: no they cannot, but I can't have another person trying to kill me, especially one who knows my location.

MB: true, that would be a problem, well I'm sorry I couldn't be of further assistance

MC: you were of no assistance!!!!!!!!

MB: 😄

MC: Fuck you

I get off my phone having found no solution, I can still hear the music from next-door, I think it's actually gotten louder, which shouldn't even be possible since they clearly already broke the fucking sound barrier!

I get up, I can't stand it anymore. I pull on some grey slacks and chuck on a red jacket over my white tank. I storm out of my house towards the insufferable noise and knock three times.

Knock, Knock, Knock.

No Answer, fucking typical. I knock again, louder, fuelled by rage.

Knock, Knock, Knock.

This time a kid around my age, possibly younger, opens the door. He has dark ash blonde hair, that's tinted a bright orange from the florescent lighting from somewhere within the house. His eyes are a deep ocean green, and his lip is turned up into a fake Greet Your Guests smile that all kids learn when their young. He looks me over, probably confused by my just got out of bed but let's go party anyway attire. I feel my face heat up, looking away. I clear my throat.

'Uhm.... Are you James?" he looks at me as if I just spoke in a foreign language formed by algebraic equations, my face gets warmer.

"I mean... is, is this your house, like do you live here? I realize now, I may have gotten your name wrong, I've never spoken to you guys or anything" I nervously laugh "Like I don't even know if this is your house or if you're just a random party goer who answered the door... uhm and I... Uhm" I don't have a mirror right now, but I swear my face is red enough that I could give Rudolph a run for his money, "I uhm, sorry, I'm rambling, is this your place?" I finally choke out, he just looks at me as if he's supressing his laughter Great, I made a fool of myself, this is why I don't do social interactions!

"My name is James, and yes, this is my house" he answers, still looking at me as if I'm some amusing little creature.

"Oh, cool..." I trail off. He looks at me confused waiting for my reason for being here. A few minutes that feel like years pass between us.

"Uhm did you want to come in?" he finally asks, breaking the awkward silence.

"Wh-what? ah, no, no I don't want to come in" I stutter out, he looks at me perplexedly.

"Then what do you want?" he asks, a hint of annoyance in his voice, God I shouldn't have come...

"My name's Mikey, I'm your neighbour, I live next-door" I point at my house just so my hands are doing something and not awkwardly tugging at the loose string on my jacket sleeve.

"Oh" realisation dawns on him "Uhm, my neighbour, right" he trails off. I can literally feel the awkward tension in the air, I could actually cut it with a butter knife.

"So, ah, do you need a bag of sugar or something?" he asks me, clearly puzzled as to why I'm here. Seriously? he thinks I need a damn bag of sugar?!? I can feel my blood physically begin to boil, my face is still hot, but now from anger and not embarrassment. What is this guy's deal? can he not tell how fucking loud the music is, does he not know it's fucking two-thirty in the morning on a fucking Sunday?!?

"No" I state, my anger slowly taking control, "I don't want a bag of fucking sugar, I want you to turn the fucking music down!" I don't mean to swear, or to raise my voice, but the fact that this asshole had the audacity to ask me if I wanted fucking sugar, really pissed me off.

He looks at me, controlled anger dancing behind his eyes, "I'm sorry, Mikey" The way he says my name is infuriating, like I'm some sort of whiny child who's complaining that it's too hot and asking for my parents to fix it "But I can't really control the music"

"That's absolute bullshit! It's your fucking house and I assume your party right, James?" I spit his name out like venom, clearly pissing him off, his calm host demeanour evaporating.

"Yes, it is, Mikey, but I can't really turn my music down suddenly in the middle of a party, that fucking rude".

"The middle?! It's fucking two thirty!"

"So, fucking what?"

"So, what!?!" My voice gets audibly louder, but I don't care, this guy is seriously pissing me off "some people have fucking lives, I have a fucking history test tomorrow!" I can tell I'm gonna say something I'll regret, but it's already too late, it's like a switch has been set off in me and if I don't say anything I'm gonna implode. "And you know what's fucking rude, Asshole?" his eye twitches at the remark, my face begins to contort into a smug grin as I continue "throwing a fucking party on a Sunday and keeping all your neighbours, who have actual lives beyond fucking binge drinking, up for hours on end, you fucking selfish dick sucking mothe-"

"Shut the fuck up!"

I snap my gaze to him, slightly startled by the interruption. His eyes are crazed with rage, like there on fire, tears are threatening to spill out, but he holds them in. His mouth in contorted somewhat in a snarl.

"You come here to my fucking house! cause a scene and then demand I inconvenience all these people" he gestures behind him into the house where party goers are drinking and laughing, clearly oblivious to our argument "All because what! Little Mikey can't fucking sleep! If it's so fucking loud use some noise cancelling headphones, you fucking spoilt prick!" He's practically seething with rage.

"And another thing, if you ever call me that again" I don't know when he got so close to me, but his face is practically inches from mine, I can feel the heat of his breath on my chin and I can see the tiny flecks of yellow in his eyes, my face becomes warm again.

"I will not hesitate to hit you in your snobby little face" he finishes his threat, bringing me back to reality, and reminding me of my original anger. He finally begins to back away, his face contorted in a slightly beastly snarl, looking as if he wants to attack me.

"I'm sorry, is that a fucking threat?"

"It wasn't a fucking love confession, dumbass."

Ok, now I'm really mad. This bastard had the audacity to ask me if I wanted sugar, throw a party this late on a Sunday and now he's threatening me? who the fuck does he think he is?

"Ok, Mr rude fucker" My voice is as calm as I can get it, my anger threatening to resurface, "I'm guessing you're not gonna be civil about this then?"

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. Fine then, we'll play this game.

"I will just have to call our local authority's and put in a noise complaint" this gets his attention, "And I'm guessing that what their drinking in there isn't punch, now is it?

He looks even more pissed, but he doesn't speak.

"It would be such a shame, if all these people who came to your party end up spending the night in jail, all because you wouldn't turn the music down a little" I pile on the sympathy and add a sweet tone to my voice to piss him off more. It works.

"Tch, fine" he finally gives in, the anger in his voice evident as he spits out his words, "I'll turn down the fucking music, happy?"

I smile sweetly, "very" he looks absolutely pissed and I have to fight the urge to act smug and rub it in his face, for fear that he'll actually punch me.

"Well, can you leave now?" he asks, clearly trying to pretend that he doesn't hate me right now.

"yep" I walk away, revelling in the hateful stares I can feel on my back. I know I'll probably regret the confrontation tomorrow, when my adrenaline wears off and my senses and anxiety return to take control of my body, but right now I feel fucking fantastic. I know it'll probably be a problem, having pissed off the kid who lives next-door, but I can probably take him. He was a tad shorter than me, and he was lean, not particularly as if he was weak, but more as in he had muscle mass, but was clearly underweight.

I think about how his face looked when I called him an asshole, it was fucking priceless. I have to contain the urge to burst out into laughter. I head home and strip back down to my boxers and tank.

I pull out my phone to message milo about my success and possible fuck up.

MC: Milooooooooooo

MB: Wht now?

MC: you seriously need to sleep

MB: I'm not talking to you if your just goanna lecture me on my sleep schedule again

MC: Fine

MC: sorry for being a caring friend

MB: apology accepted

MB: so, what is it now? still planning murder?

MC: no, I actually confronted the jackass

MB: James?

MC: yeah, that's what I said

MB: ok, how'd it go?

MC: fabulously

MB: oh no, you're using the word fabulously

MC: what's wrong with that?

MB: it means you made a new enemy; you flipped off at him, didn't you?

MC: ...

MB: seriously? you couldn't be polite for like five minutes?

MC: HE ASKED ME IF I WANTED A FUCKING BAG OF SUGAR!

MB: so...?

MC: It was insulting

MB: sugar?

MC: yes, you had to be there to understand the insult

MB: sure, I'll take your word for it

MC: I'm goanna regret this tomorrow, aren't I?

MB: oh, definitely

MC: shit

MB: shit indeed

MC: well, I'm going to go to sleep and wait for anxiety to wake me up

MB: enjoy that, I'm going to re-watch Saiki K I think

MC: again?

MB: you can't mess with routine, my dear fellow

MC: whatever weirdo, bye

MB: goodbye normie

I exit the message chain and begin to stare up at my roof, God I'm gonna regret pissing James off tomorrow, but for tonight it was totally fucking worth it.

I drift off to sleep, clinging my pillow, and dreaming about a world where I don't piss everyone off. It's a pretty bland dream.