Mike
I’m going to set something — Anything — on fire withing the next few minutes if that god awful music doesn’t shut the fuck up. Yes, I understand I sound dramatic, childish even, but I’m tired.
So bloody tired.
It’s 2 AM in the morning, and I haven’t slept a wink because a mix of the same poppy dribble has been playing all night, making my ears bleed with random sentiments about hooking up, breaking up and then hooking back up again. Over and over, and honestly, I’m just done.
Actually, if everyone in the world could just break up and not get back together ever again, I think I could die a happy man. I let out a loud groan, covering my ears with my pillow, as another overly upbeat tune begins to blast through next-door’s speakers and right into my brain.
“Fuck—that’s it” I take my phone out, the light bleary and blinding, and scroll until I find their contact. I know they’ll be awake.
MC: Miloooooo. Save me
MB: It’ll cost you a large sum of food
I was correct, they’re awake, but I currently need them so my concern about their awful sleeping habits can wait.
MC: I’ll pay, just help!
MB: It will cost you so much food, but sure. Whts the prob?
MC: I’m going to commit murder
MB: So you need me to hide a body?
MC: no!
MB: I don’t follow then
I can feel the music pulsing in my ears now, like I’m melting into it, and honestly, it’s probably because I’m tired — or because I have a history exam tomorrow — but I feel irritable enough to actually hit something.
Which is bad, because I have enough enemies as it is.
MC: I want you to stop me from committing crimes!
MB: Boo, boring!
MC: Can you just help please?!
MB: How?
MC: I don’t know, just help, this is life and death here!
MB: What is the problem and whose life is in danger?
What was the problem? Simple, I was currently trying to think about the easiest ways to get away with arson and slight mass murder. I might have actually already done it if it weren’t for the repercussions and possibility my house and stuff could get destroyed in the process. (Which, no thank you)
MC: My neighbours are throwing a fucking rager or some shit, my ears bleed and I am going to kill them if you don't help me!
MB: Oh, your sleepy and grumpy. Was wondering why you were awake lol
MC: I am not grumpy, I am pissed
MB: The adult equivalent of sleepy and grumpy
MC: This is not helpful Milo
MB: I’m not a helpful person
MC: Dude be serious, I need sleep!
MB: Sleep is debatable
MC: It really is not
MB: Agree to disagree
MC: Just help me!
MB: Nah
Maybe I shouldn’t have messaged Milo. I think I’m too tired for their shit, and the music is just getting louder and more annoying — Which makes no sense since they have clearly already broken the fucking sound barrier.
MC: Fuck you
MB: No Thanks :)
Yeah. Milo was a bad choice. I’m already slipping my jacket on over the top of my tank top, and I’m pretty sure if I don’t find a solution quickly that my neighbours are about to suffer a great loss due to ’electrical’ issues.
MC: Milo come on, do something!
MB: Like what?
MC: I don’t fucking know! Call the cops!
MB: No way
MC: Why TF not?
MB: Well, I can only assume your not talking about Mrs O’Reiley
MC: Of course not, she’s ninety-five!
MB: Good, because I could not condone you killing her. I’d need to get revenge
MC: What does your obsession with my elderly neighbour have to do with you not calling the cops?
MB: It’s not an obsession!
MC: You talk to her more than me
MB: Cookies Michael. C.O.O.K.I.E.S!
I was starting to think that Milo might have had a slight food addiction. Although I had to admit, Mrs O’Reiley’s cookies were good— I’m getting off track.
MC: Okay, fair enough, but why can’t you call the cops on my other neighbour?
MB: Well I’m pretty sure your other neighbour is James something or another
MC: Who?
MB: A guy in the year below us, friends with Jessica Allans, you know the really popular grade ten girl?
MC: Milo, I know nothing. This is a fact
MB: You are so antisocial man
MC: Just tell me what this has to do with you being unable to call the cops and save me!
MB: I’m not messing up a party her friend threw and ruining any parties I might throw, duh
MC: What parties?
MB: The ones you never come too because you antisocial
MC: Those are drunken bonfires not parties
MB: Either way it’s still a no
MC: Your insufferable
MB: Thank you :)
I think I’ve already given up on Milo being any help, slipping on my grey tracksuit pants over my boxers and running a quick brush through my bedhead. I look myself over in the darkened mirror — I look like shit because I haven’t slept — when my phone goes off again.
MB: Why can't you call the police? You don't have any social status to defend
MC: Rude
MB: You know it's true
MC: Touche, but still rude
MB: So you agree, good, so why can't you call the cops yourself?
MC: Because I cannot afford another person trying to kill me, especially if they know my address
MB: Ah, yeah. I can see the issue.
MB: Just make sure you don’t get caught when you kill him
MC: Your concerningly okay with murder
MB: Only murder if your caught ;)
MC: Not true
MB: Once again, agree to disagree
Milo exceedingly concerns me sometimes, and I have to wonder why they're my best friend. It's probably because everyone else either ignores me or wants to kill me. Yeah, that's probably why.
MC: Can’t I just crash at your place the rest of the night?
MB: No can do, Dadi and London are sleeping
MC: Then I guess I’m committing crimes
My door creaks as I leave my bedroom— My eyes lingering on my warm comforter— before I descend my stairs. I grab my keys, each step closer to my door making the music ring louder in my ears and causes me to grit my teeth and clench my fist around my phone.
MB: Just don’t get beat to death, kay?
The lights are spilling out of the house, along with the music, each step that I take bringing me closer. I can see the walls rumbling with the sound, and I’m not fully sure I’ll be heard but I bang on the door three times anyway.
Knock, Knock, Knock
It remains closed and I have to bite back the urge to scream. I’m only knocking out of politeness, the door is clearly unlocked, but I decide to try one more time. I put in every bit of want to hit whoever lives here into my fist as I knock again.
Knock, Knock, Knock
I actually get an answer this time, the door opening slowly and a guy steps outside. He’s roughly my age — tan skin and short sandy blonde hair — He has one of those fake ’Greet your guest’s’ smiles plastered onto his confused face.
He looks me up and down, taking in the fact I’m just wearing random crap I found on my floor, before straightening his posture as best he can. Which isn’t great, the guy’s clearly wasted. His face is flushed, and I can smell the booze on his breath, his sea-green eyes are trying to take everything in, but they don’t seem to be able to focus.
“Are you James?” I internally kick myself, feeling my face warm slightly as I rub my neck nervously. This could very easily just be a random party goer who heard me knock, and now I’m making an ass of myself. “L-like is this your house? Your party? I realise now you might just be a random guy because I’ve never actually interacted with you befor-“
He snorts and I can physically feel my stomach drop in shame.
He covers his mouth slightly as he supresses a laugh— Which I’m going to tell myself is alcohol induced and not because I sound like a frazzled moron— before he nods his head.
“Yeah, I’m James and this is my party” He smiles slightly and it’s less fake than before, his lip upturned, and his nose slightly scrunched with amusement, “And my house. You are?”
I have to bite back my own smile this time. The guy was cute in a drunk but trying to act sober way and he was at least a head shorter than me, yet he was clearly trying to make himself look bigger.
“Mikey” I answer absently and after a few moments James stops smiling, gesturing with his hand for me to continue, his eye’s narrowing in confusion and slight suspicion.
Right. I need to talk.
I forget that part sometimes.
“I’m your neighbour” I throw my hand behind my head, using my thumb to point at my house before my face becomes increasingly warmer because I probably didn’t need to point out my house.
“My neighbour? Do you… want to come in or?” His voice is beginning to slur, like the prolonged conversation is making it harder for him to act like he isn’t drunk but he’s too stubborn to admit it. Which— And I’m only saying this because I believe honesty is the best policy — is pretty cute.
“Come in?” Based on the fact his eyes seem to be trying to stab into me, I’m pretty sure I zoned out for a minute. I look down, trying to cover my warming face with my hair as I avoid his gaze and try to remember what I was here for when the speakers begin to pick up again and a new louder beat begins to play, and I feel like my heads splitting into two.
Right. Loud and need sleep.
“No, no I’m not here to party, god no, never I just-“
“Then the fuck do you want? A bag of sugar?” James cut’s me off, his slurred tone becoming exasperated as he crosses his arms over his chest and I have to dig my nails into my knuckles to supress the urge to punch him.
I need to remain calm, I’m just tired and this is guy is probably drunk and needs me to talk to him slowly, but the way he’s trying to look taller than me doesn’t feel so cute anymore. It feels more like he’s trying to look down on me which…
Yeah, no, that kind of pisses me off.
“No” I can feel the sharp edge to my voice, but no matter how much I try to tone it down it sticks, “I do not want a bag of sugar. Can you seriously not guess why I’m here?!”
James looks perplexed for a moment, running a hand through his hair —Which has turned a bright orange shade from the lights inside— before sighing.
“No? Look, it’s late so whatever this is can it wait-“
This time it was my turn to cut him off.
“No fucking shit it’s late!” I flail my hands slight in frustration before bringing them to my face and applying pressure between my eyes. Attempting to calm my breathing down. “That’s why I’m fucking here! Do you not realise how inconvenient having loud music and drunk idiots right next door at this time is you fucking…”
My voice drops when I finally look back up at James and realise, I’ve fucked up. I just yelled at a very inebriated man, and he looks exceedingly pissed off. His face is red with anger rather than alcohol now, his smile replaced with an irritated pout and his eyes were definitely trying to stab something into me.
If they actually could I’m pretty sure I would be dead by now.
“Look, Mikey” the way he says my name makes me shiver— his voice curling around each letter like they’ve personally offended him and his family. “I get it’s late, but I don’t have control over who’s drunk and loud”
“That’s bullshit!” I blurt it out without thinking, instantly regretting it. I shouldn't have come here. I'm tired and this kids clearly wasted, all I'm doing is starting an argument, but something about how he genuinely cannot comprehend why I am pissed makes me feel like strangling him.
Again, I am aware I am being childish and overacting by picking a fight with a drunk man. Very aware.
But I am fucking tired, so sue me. I'm picking a fight.
"This is your house— your party— you have all the control! Just turn down the music and be considerate of other people, it's not that fucking hard-" My breathing is hard and the only reason I stop semi-yelling is because the look James is giving me is downright terrifying and... something else.
He's still got is lip turned in an oddly angry pout, his eyes are wide with tears threatening to spill out, and I can see his breath puffing out into the cold air.
Why don't I ever shut up?
"I am so sorry the music is such an inconvenience to poor little Mikey and his sensitive fucking ears!" James's voice drips with sarcasm, and he steps closer to me as he yells. "Go buy some noise cancelling headphones next time you spoilt little prick-"
"Why the fuck do I need to accommodate for you throwing loud ass parties on a fucking Sunday? I have a fucking test tomorrow, so if anyone is a spoilt prick here it's you— You motherfucking-"
I don't know when he got close enough, but he grabs me by the collar of my jumper, pulling us so close together I can feel the cold tip of his nose and smell the scent of strawberries and vodka on his breath. "Don't you ever fucking call me that again, you entitled little asshat" I need to supress the shiver that runs down my spine and the heat that pools into my cheeks as his warm breath hits my face.
I'm mad. I need to remember, I'm mad... not...
I don't know what to say or do and all I can focus on the feeling of his breath ghosting along my lips— on how I can see the little flecks on yellow in his sea green eyes. I barely register what he's saying as he shoves me away. Too focused on trying to not stumble and the burning in my face.
"Now fuck back off to your house before I punch you in your stupid blurry face"
"Is that a threat?" My voice isn't as angry as it should be— more a wobbly attempt to sound offended as I regain my bearings.
"It wasn't a fucking love confession"
Yeah, no.
This guy is an ass; and even if my face feels like it's on fire, I'm not dealing with him and his sarcastic little bitch fit. I don't really care if he's drunk.
If he wants to play it like this, then fine.
I'll play.
"Look, Mr rude fucker, I'm guessing you're not even going to attempt to be civil here?" James rolls his eyes scoffing under his breath and I feel a lot better about what I'm planning to do. "Fine then, I'll just call our local authorities and see what they have to say"
The way his face drops— his eyes widening and his lips contorting into a snarl like he wants to make do on his threat from earlier— I need to supress a laugh that builds up in my throat.
"You wouldn't fucking dar-"
"I would," I smile as wide as I can, relishing the feeling as he tries to glare daggers into me. I'm pretty sure the ship has sailed on making sure this guy doesn't want to murder me, so I might as well enjoy pissing him off. "I'm assuming what you— and what everyone else in there— are drinking isn't punch, now is it?"
He grits his teeth, but he's smart enough to keep his mouth shut as I continue.
"It would be such a shame if everyone who came to your party— at your house— went home in police cars now wouldn't it?"
"Fine, shut up already" James is rubbing his temple, clearly fighting the urge to slap me up the head. "I'll turn down the music, just fucking leave already"
"Happily," I don't think a singsong voice has ever pissed anyone off more than it has James; and it takes everything in me to not giggle like a kid.
My bed is like a reward, the warm comforter enveloping me as I re-open my message chain with Milo.
MC: I totally pissed him off
MB: And your alive? Kudos
MC: I'm going to regret this when I've had sleep aren't I?
MB: 100%
MC: Fuck
MB: fudge indeed
MC: Well, I guess I'm going to enjoy sleep while I can before anxiety wakes me up in the morning.
MB: Enjoy that, I'm going to re-watch Saiki K
MC: Again? You should sleep
MB: Yes again. You don't mess with routine Mikey!
MC: Whatever, just try and get some sleep you weirdo
MB: Maybe. GN pleb
I can already feel my eyes shutting as I turn off my phone, and I know Milo's right. I'm going to regret my actions in the morning, but right now I honestly couldn't care less.
I'm not going to get enough sleep and I'm probably going to wake up with a new enemy in the morning which is... Just fan-fucking-tastic I guess.
I really wish I didn't piss people off so much.
But that would be boring, I guess.
