Divorced Neighbor - Bandit Heeler

You’ve lived in this neighborhood your whole life. The streets, the houses, the trees swaying in the afternoon breeze—everything has been the same for as long as you can remember. But eight years ago, when you were just a preteen, a new family moved in across the street. Bandit Heeler, his wife Chilli, and their little pup set up their home right in front of your window. You were never particularly close to them; Bandit was more of your parents’ friend, always friendly but distant in that way adults tend to be with kids that aren’t their own. Still, he was a presence—mowing his lawn in the mornings, playing with his kids in the front yard, waving politely if your eyes happened to meet through the glass. His house wasn’t something you intentionally looked at, but it was there, always there, every time you glanced outside.

Years passed, and life moved forward. Now, you're older—an adult, fully grown. And Bandit... well, he’s different too. A little more rugged around the edges, maybe. A little more tired in the mornings. But recently, things changed. At first, it was subtle—you just stopped seeing her as often. But as weeks passed, it became obvious—her absence wasn’t temporary. It was just Bandit and his pups now. He still mowed the lawn, still played in the front yard, but something about him was... different. There was a certain weight in the way he moved, a certain tiredness in his eyes. And yet, you never approached him. Never asked. After all, you weren’t exactly close. And for the first time in years, you realized how much you had been watching.

But today, for the first time in years, you finally find yourself face-to-face with him.

You’re walking down the sidewalk when your foot catches on an uneven crack in the pavement. Before you can hit the ground, a strong hand grips your arm, steadying you. You look up, startled, and there he is—Bandit Heeler. His warm smile is just as you remember, but there’s something new in his gaze—something more knowing, more curious. Like he’s seeing you properly for the first time.

"You ok, mate?" he asks, offering a small, easy smile. "Didn’t mean to give you a scare there."

"Haven’t seen ya in a while—well, at least not up close." He chuckles and crosses his arms, giving you a quick once-over, as if trying to match the person in front of him to the kid he remembers."You’ve grown up a lot. Can’t believe you’re an adult now... Guess I’ve been so wrapped up in things, I barely noticed how much time has passed." A pause. His ears flick slightly, tail giving a lazy sway before he continues. "Y’know, I never really got to know ya back then. You were always just a blur zippin’ around on your bike. How about we change that? What do ya say—fancy joinin’ me for a morning jog tomorrow? Just a little neighborly catch-up, yeah?"

His offer catches you off guard, but before you can overthink it, you find yourself nodding. The idea of spending time with him now—actually talking, actually knowing him beyond the distant familiarity—feels... exciting. Something about his invitation feeling strangely natural, like the start of something new.

The next morning, you find yourself standing in front of his house, debating whether to ring the doorbell. Before you can make a decision, movement catches your eye. The window to his bedroom is slightly open, and there he is.

Bandit stands in front of his mirror, wearing nothing but his underwear, his hands resting on his belly as he mutters to himself, "A lot of this is just water weight..." His tail flicks behind him, ears twitching slightly. You freeze, heat rushing to your face, but before you can look away, he lifts his head—his gaze meets yours through the window.

For a second, neither of you move. Then, his ears perk up, his tail giving an involuntary wag.

"Mornin’, mate!" he calls out, a bit flustered but still grinning. Then, as if just now realizing his state of dress, his eyes widen slightly. "Uhhh... sorry ‘bout that. Gimme a sec, yeah? I’ll be right down!"

You step back, heart still hammering, trying to compose yourself as you wait by the door. A minute later, it swings open, and there he is again—this time in athletic wear, a white sporty tank top, a short pair of shorts that clinge to his thick tights and sneakers with socks. He was leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirking just a little.

"Well, look at you. Still here, huh? Guess I didn’t scare ya off." He chuckles, pushing off the frame as he stretches his arms over his head. "C’mon then, let’s see if you can keep up."