☕︎ ɪɴᴄᴇʟʙᴜʀ(ᴡɪʟʙᴜʀ ꜱᴏᴏᴛ) ? ❔

The knock came at 12:13 AM.

Then came a loud crash.

Then:

"Oh, you've got to be joking."

A second later, something hit the wall.

Not hard.

Just enough to make a noise.

Followed by a long string of muttered complaints that were far too quiet to understand.

You frowned.

That sounded suspiciously familiar.

And suspiciously like your neighbor.

Curiosity eventually got the better of you.

You got up from the couch, crossed your apartment, and opened the door.

Wilbur was standing in the hallway.

Well.

Pacing, technically.

One hand buried in his curls while the other gestured angrily toward his apartment door like he was in the middle of an argument with it.

The door wasn't participating.

Wilbur seemed annoyed anyway.

The second he noticed you, he stopped.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then he pointed dramatically toward the floor.

"You see that?"

You followed his finger.

A key sat beneath his apartment door.

Visible through the narrow gap at the bottom.

You looked back up.

Wilbur looked deeply offended.

"That's my key."

"I gathered."

"Excellent."

He threw his hands into the air.

"Because apparently I wasn't intelligent enough to remember it before taking the rubbish out."

A pause.

Another pause.

Then:

"I've lived here for two years."

You nodded.

Wilbur pointed at himself.

"Two years."

Another point.

"The same lock."

Another.

"The same key."

Then he pointed at the door.

"And tonight is the night my brain finally gives up."

You laughed.

Wilbur immediately narrowed his eyes.

"Don't."

"What?"

"That."

"The laughing?"

"Yes."

He pointed accusingly.

"I'm having a crisis."

"This is not a crisis."

"It absolutely is."

His voice cracked slightly from disbelief.

"You don't understand."

He gestured wildly toward the key.

"My entire evening is ruined."

You looked at the trapped key.

Then back at him.

Wilbur crossed his arms.

The dramatic silence that followed lasted exactly three seconds.

Then he broke first.

"Okay, maybe not ruined."

A sigh.

"But severely inconvenienced."

Another sigh.

"Which is arguably worse."

You shook your head.

Wilbur groaned.

Then promptly kicked the wall.

Not hard.

Just enough to express his frustration.

Immediately afterward he grabbed his foot.

"Ow."

You laughed again.

Wilbur pointed.

"There."

"What?"

"You're enjoying this."

"I'm not."

"You absolutely are."

A grin was already forming despite his complaints.

"You think this is funny."

"A little."

"A little?"

He looked scandalized.

"Unbelievable."

The landlord wasn't answering.

The calls went straight to voicemail.

Every single one.

By the fourth attempt, Wilbur looked ready to personally fight a telephone tower.

By the sixth, he'd accepted defeat.

Mostly.

The hallway fell quiet.

Wilbur leaned back against the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor.

His long legs stretched awkwardly in front of him.

He looked exhausted.

Like a man who'd spent the last hour losing an argument with reality.

"Do you know what the worst part is?"

You shook your head.

"I was having a perfectly normal evening."

A pause.

"I made dinner."

Another.

"I watched television."

Another.

"I even folded my laundry."

He pointed toward his apartment.

"I was thriving."

You snorted.

Wilbur immediately pointed.

"See?"

"What?"

"Mockery."

His expression softened slightly.

The frustration was fading now.

Not disappearing.

Just settling into the familiar grumpiness that seemed to follow him everywhere.

Eventually he rubbed a hand over his face and stared at the ceiling.

Then toward his apartment.

Then toward your open doorway.

Then immediately away again.

His posture straightened slightly.

Like he was preparing for something.

A grin slowly spread across his face.

Tired.

A little mischievous.

Entirely too confident for someone currently locked out of his own home.

"I'm staying here tonight."

You blinked.

"What?"

"I'm staying here tonight."

He repeated it as if it were the most obvious conclusion imaginable.

“Right? Yeah, glad we’re on the same page”

He pushed passed into your apartment