Archive of Our Own ^beta

It starts like this:

Adulting is a very abstract, subjective word. You see, Dante isn’t really a big fan of adulting , but he’s well aware that it’s an important thing that he should definitely be participating in. It’s just, adulting could mean so many things- it’s hard to pick one, isn’t it? 

Either way, he thinks his newest decision is pretty adult . Although it could be argued that quitting his office job to become a full-time author isn’t a very good idea, moving all by himself to a cheap deserted house in the middle of nowhere to pursue authorhood (or whatever the word was) seemed very adult . Was he going to regret this? Probably. But wasn’t that part of the adulting process anyway?

Or at least, it sort of seemed like it. After all, becoming an adult (to Dante) meant regretting basically every decision made after the age 18. 

That doesn’t matter, though. He has maybe three months before he starts regretting what he’s done (the same amount of time it took him to quit his office job, actually), so he might as well make the most of it. That’s what he tells himself when he’s going back and forth between the inside of the house and where his boxes lay on the pavement. His belongings total to around, like, nothing useful, but he had felt kinda awkward leaving behind so many things in his apartment (his roommate had watched him pack, and it’s really hard to not take along every belonging ever when there’s someone exuding get everything of yours out of my damn house energy right behind you.) The only plus to that is that all he has is a few boxes of random things rather than multiple pieces of furniture.

Dante already did his own little tour the moment he arrived at the house. It’s pretty shabby, which is expected given its god-awful location, but it’s furnished and not too dusty, which Dante already takes as a win ( adulting is fun unless you’re shopping for furniture and apologizing to the workers who have to lug in various couches and desks.) The furniture isn’t- much, per say, and they’re definitely not… clean to the point where Dante would comfortably lounge on the (somewhat moldy?) couch right away. But it’s a start.

Anyway, Dante’s always loved DIY projects or cleaning or whatever. And as a full-time author (which he still finds ridiculous- like, really, out of all the professions he could’ve chosen?), he probably has all the time in the world to make it happen. 

Now, here’s the not-so-fun part- where the hell are his neighbors?

Look, maybe Dante is being stereotypical, but when he had first looked at the neighborhood through Redfin’s stupid little preview page, he’d figured that there were probably a bunch of old white men occupying every single house in the block. When he had been driving with ENHYPEN blasting out of his speakers, he’d imagined various neighbors in their front lawns, watering and tending to their bushes or maybe washing their cars (because the nearest car wash is like, ten miles away or something crazy) with hoses and judgmentally staring at him as he moved his little boxes into his little house. But maybe he was a little too stereotypical, because to be quite frank, none of the prior statements happened. For one, none of his neighbors could be seen all throughout the street, and for another, well, their lawns looked like they hadn’t been cared for at all .

Dante doesn’t know whether he should be grateful for that or not. Speaking truthfully, the two rows of desolate, paint-peeling houses with untamed front lawns make for quite the sorry sight. He can’t imagine sitting at a desk inside his house trying to garner inspiration from this sort of scenery. But then again, he supposes uniqueness is something people look for in books these days; who wouldn’t love some… gruesome rom-com set in the middle of nowhere between two house-owners who both apparently couldn’t afford a lawnmower?

It’s none of Dante’s business either way, but he still feels slightly concerned about the state of their houses. And even if he wasn’t, he’d have to interact with them anyway, so when he’s pretty much done cutting open the tape of each cardboard box, Dante grabs the basket full of jars of peanut butter and strawberry jam he’d whipped up three hours before he had moved. After all, um, something about… inspiration in writing and making connections and getting to know neighbors and… being partially racist in which he assumed that his neighbors were all white and that all white neighbors loved toast with peanut butter and jam. Or something. 

He’s not sure whether all his neighbors are white (or if they all love toast with peanut butter and jam), but he’s sure that he should make an effort to get to know them anyway. Maybe suggest taking care of their lawn in the midst of a conversation too. 

His first target: the house across from him. Which, like any other house on their street, has messy and uncontrollable grass that reaches up to Dante’s shins and what seems like decade-old paint peeling off the walls. What does seem to be normal is the fact that there’s a functioning car parked in the driveway (which, for some reason, is not reciprocated among the other houses, despite today being Sunday and nobody having work (well, almost nobody)). Dante tries not to think too much about the poor housekeeping skills and knocks on the door with his best smile (he thinks it’s his best smile, anyway). Then he waits for it to open.

And he waits. And waits. And waits some more. And it doesn’t open, but he hears quite a lot of banging inside, which is vaguely concerning. At least there’s no sign of voices or screaming, so he can rule out the possibility of domestic violence. Though that isn’t really reassuring within itself.

“Hello?” Dante calls, even though he’s definitely aware that it’s rude to yell at someone to open the door. “Um, I just moved in across from your house. I just wanted to like, uh, make connections …? Talk! I wanted to chat, you know, and I have some… peanut butter and jam? If you could open the door….”

No response except for more banging. Um?  

Dante stands there blinking at the door, wondering if he should peek through the blinds of the window nearby for a few more seconds before he just sighs and turns away. It wasn’t particularly likely that his neighbor was still asleep at 4 pm in the afternoon on a Sunday, but Dante’s seen worse sleep schedules ( experienced worse, too), so he just walks back down the pathway and turns to the house to his right. It wasn’t as if he was knowledgeable about his new neighbor anyway, so he couldn’t say the banging wasn’t a result of wild pets or something of the sort.

Thankfully, while the next house over is in the same terrible condition, there seems to be signs of life from inside. Namely, singing. 

Dante stands in front of the door for several moments, entranced by the sultry voice floating out. It takes a while for him to snap out of it, readjusting his grip on the basket, head dizzy and spinning like he’s floating on cloud nine. ‘Cus wow, that is some… good singing. So good he apparently feels hypnotized. 

Reluctant to interrupt the melody, Dante raps a few times on the wooden door. As soon as the singing stops, the fog in his brain clears up like magic- he’s startled to find himself aware of his surroundings again. Dante doesn’t have a lot of time to adjust to the quick change though, because the door’s swinging open in his face only seconds later.

Well, you certainly have faster reactions than your neighbor who didn’t even answer the door . “Uh, hi….” Dante startles to find himself staring at a woman’s chest and furrows his eyebrows, moving his gaze higher and higher until he finally meets the eyes of said woman. Who’s really tall. And really pretty. And did he mention that her eyes are particularly enchanting? Her pupils are slits akin to a cat’s, a contrasting black against white irises. Actually, a lot of things about her are white- her pale skin which seems to shimmer with some sort of texture, her furrowed eyebrows, her whitish-blond hair, uh… so on… so forth… something, something….

Oh my god, Dante, focus , says a little voice inside of him. You’re gay. You don’t even like women.

Somehow that does the trick. Dante blinks a couple of times before clearing his throat with proper clarity. “Hi, I’m Dante! I just moved into the neighborhood, that house over there,” he gestures towards what he hopes is the right direction. “Anyway, I wanted to make a good impression and get to know you and the other neighbors a bit more, so I brought a gift!” He wrestles out a jar of strawberry jam from the basket. “...Unless you don’t like jam.”

Pretty Woman narrows her eyes at him, expression flickering back and forth between confusion and disdain, which is generally not a good combo, but Dante’s not a women-hater, so he just stays silent. She looks down at his hands clutched around the jar in offering. “...We haven’t had a new neighbor in forever .”

Dante wouldn’t know. He’s not really big on checking house history. And, well- nothing really matters when it comes to low prices. Someone could’ve died in that house and he still would’ve bought it. “...Oh. Well, that makes things kinda awkward. Even so, I’d like to get to know the community better. I don’t think I’ll be moving out anytime soon-” that’s a lie- as mentioned previously, maybe three months max, “-so it’s good to start making connections now, right?”

The corner of her mouth twitches. “Hm.”

“Hm?” Dante repeats, blinking. He slowly lowers the jar. “I mean, if you don’t like strawberry jam, that’s okay too. I have peanut butter right here-

“Tanasha,” Pretty Woman calls suddenly. “Come over.”

Dante shuts his mouth. Before he can say anything else, rustling comes from inside the house as who he assumes is Tanasha appears beside Pretty Woman with a black cat in her arms. Tanasha is (thank God) shorter than Pretty Woman and has dark chocolate skin- a stark contrast to Pretty Woman’s white theme, though her irises are a bright red that stands out without failure. Dante briefly wonders how she got such realistic contact lenses. Stranger than that, though, he now notices that the two of them are dressed up like old people , which he doesn’t mean in an offensive way (they look like they’re only in their early forties anyway), but instead in a renaissance way- like, corsets and frilly dresses and cottagecore aesthetic or whatever (Dante’s never bothered to memorize all those Pinterest keywords). 

“He didn’t listen to my singing,” Pretty Woman says, interrupting Dante’s train of thought.

He tilts his head in confusion. “What? I did. I mean, it was amazing. You’re really good. Is it your job?”

Neither woman spares him an answer. Tanasha silently regards him before asking, “You just moved in?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” says Tanasha, which, wow, not that hard to be normal, is it? God, for some reason, this is a lot worse than meeting stereotypical old white neighbors. “I’m Tanasha. This is Jules. We’re married. I’m sorry for our strange behavior. As she said, it’s been a while since we met someone new around here.”

“No problem,” Dante replies, even though it’s definitely a problem. “I understand,” he tacks on for good measure, even though he definitely does not understand.

Tanasha’s red eyes flicker down to the jar of jam. She moves to pluck it out of his hands, and it’s only then that Dante realizes that she has really long nails- and they’re nails that don’t look like they came out of a nail clinic. “Thank you for the gift,” she says, and Dante’s attention snaps back to her. “I hope we can talk again soon.”

She’s too courteous and polite and it makes Dante feel like a kid again. Her words kind of sound like an elementary school dismissal so he just nods awkwardly, waves, and walks away.

His neighbors are weird .

Regardless, he goes on to his next target, who he hopes is less weird. This house, strangely enough, has tons of pumpkins growing in its front yard- which, okay, Dante is starting to doubt whether the month is December or not because why does the whole neighborhood have a Halloween theme ? He knocks on the door twice and waits for a response before the door swings open.

Then- he comes face to face with a zombie . 

No- wait, he’s got that wrong. Actually, if he squints, it looks pretty fake- the peeling skin looks like something out of a makeup look and green-ish tint could totally just be his neighbor’s skin color and the revealed inner jaw from a missing chunk of skin is- is-

Is probably just a hallucination, Dante reasons as said zombie-looking-neighbor slams the door in his face. He blinks a few times, wondering how he managed to get so lucid to the point where he’s dreaming of gore before the door opens for the second time. This time around, the neighbor is still green-ish, but the lower half of his face is now covered with a cheap surgical mask. 

The face now a much more pleasurable sight, Dante takes a quick moment to survey the neighbor. He has black, almost overgrown hair and bangs that cover his eyes (which, strangely enough, are white with a red tint), though most of his hair is covered by a white hoodie that’s tightened all the way. Almost every part of him is covered in clothes despite it not being all that cold outside. 

So maybe it was too wishful to hope that this neighbor wouldn’t be weird. Forget three months- Dante’s starting to regret his decision now .

“Hi,” says Dante. “Um. That was some cool makeup effects you had going on there. Before you, like, put on the mask.” 

“M-m-makeup,” the other stumbles through his words with a slight lisp. “Right. Makeup. W-w-what can I do for you?”

“Well, my name is Dante, I just moved into the house over there,” Dante starts slowly. “I was hoping to get to know my new neighbors a little more. Tanasha from the house next door told me you guys haven’t had someone new around here for a while, so I’m sorry if this is sudden.”

New Neighbor pauses. He says, “She’s right about that. I’m A-A-Alexei. My speech- it’s n-not… too….”

Dante resists the urge to say I can tell and instead responds, “That’s alright, I understand. Uh, do you do makeup often…?”

“…Yeah,” Alexei answers, seemingly hesitant.

“Oh,” Dante connects the dots. “Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s like- weird, or anything. I mean, it’s funky- I don’t see a lot of people doing gorey makeup or things like that- but I don’t think it’s a bad thing. I’m very- uh, open, to those sorts of things. I’m gay, by the way.”

A pregnant silence fills the air.

“Right,” Dante forcefully smiles. Prone to oversharing- a great trait to possess. “Well, I like your pumpkins.” He gestures to the front yard garden… if it can be considered a garden.

“T-those aren’t mine,” Alexei says. “They’re- w-w-wait. Peng, c-come over. New neighbor. Please.”

A tall Asian man saunters up behind Alexei. Um, a tall Asian man who’s adorned in a black robe with half of his face ominously covered by shadows and carrying a huge scythe. Damn. Maybe Halloween is a permanent thing here.

“This is P-P-Peng,” Alexei introduces, “h-he likes g-growing pumpkins. It’s h-h-his hobby. Like my makeup. …Don’t w-worry about the scythe, it’s f-f-fake.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dante greets, trying not to stare at said scythe because wow , it looks way too realistic to be a fake prop.

Peng doesn’t say anything back.

Alexei awkwardly pats his shoulder with a gloved hand. “H-h-he’s shy. And Chinese.”

“Um, yeah,” Dante presses his lips together. What does Chinese have to do with being shy again? “Well, I made some strawberry jam and peanut butter as a gift. Would you like some?”

Alexei graciously accepts a jar of peanut butter. When the door closes in Dante’s face (this time, gently), he turns around and walks away blankly.

Next target. He doesn’t have high hopes anymore.

The door Dante knocks on swings open and (thankfully) he doesn’t come face to face with a zombie. In fact, he comes face to face with quite the opposite: a hot man.

(So, based on Dante’s recent encounters, the neighborhood has two types of people: Halloween fanatics and smoking hot individuals.)

Picture this: above-six-foot-tall Asian with green eyes and vague freckles. Slicked back hair and piercings, a pink tongue that runs across equally pink lips and white fangs poking out. Smoking hot . 

“Um,” Dante says eloquently, because that’s just what happens in the face of hot men. “Hey. I’m your new neighbor.”

Hot Man raises an eyebrow. “…New neighbor, huh?”

“Yeah,” Dante answers, taking a brief moment to survey Hot Man. Aside from being hot, he’s interesting in other ways; namely, he’s dressed head to toe in dark colors of Valedictorian design or something, not too far off from the previous married couple. Cuffed, ruffled shirt, black vest, and a white collar going up to his chin. He tugs on it briefly when Dante pauses- and, yeah . Not particularly Dante’s type, per say, but who can resist the allure of handsomeness? It’s really a shame that Dante is (unfortunately) into more pathetic guys. “Just wanted to get to know everyone around here, you know? Make some good impressions.”

“Ye-jun Im,” says Hot Man, now Ye-jun. “It’s nice to meet you. You know-“

“-You haven’t had a new neighbor in forever,” Dante finishes. “So I’ve heard. Dante Fontana-Rosa. You, um… just pointing this out, but you’re really handsome. Ever been an idol?”

Ye-jun stares at him blankly before hiding his mouth behind his hand with a raised eyebrow. “That’s one way to put it. Did you only ask that after hearing that my name is Korean?”

“Maybe,” answers Dante, number one Sunghoon fan ever.

Ye-jun pauses, still covering his mouth, “I work at the local blood bank. I’m allergic to the sun, so I’m afraid being an idol wouldn’t be possible.”

Dante blinks. That sort of explains the gloves and full-coverage clothing, although- well. Although he’s currently inside a functioning house with a roof. “Ah. I see. This might be weird too, but, er… I was wondering if, like, our neighbors are always this weird? ‘Cus you seem pretty normal- that’s a compliment, by the way- and I kinda assumed that everyone here was just…. strange.”

Ye-jun falls silent for a while. “Hm,” he drawls, gaze locked onto Dante, and it’s only then that the latter realizes that his eyes are awfully unsettling. “I don’t know, sweetie. Maybe you just need time to adjust .”

Ooookay . Hot Man turned into Suspiciously Creepy Hot Man. Which is a reasonable promotion given that Ye-jun smiles right after, a strange grin that stretches ear to ear and puts his sharp canines right on display. He would make a really, really good vampire for Halloween , Dante thinks in the back of his mind, which really isn’t helping with the whole theory about his new neighborhood’s Halloween vibe. 

He’s so lost in thinking about what epic Halloween parties could occur that he doesn’t even notice Ye-jun leaning closer and closer until Dante is startling at hot breath brushing against his neck. Immediately, he snaps back to reality, stiffly taking a step back, instinctively reaching into his basket. Warily eyeing Ye-jun, who’s still bent at the waist from leaning down to Dante’s height, he holds out a jar of strawberry jam. 

“Um, it was nice meeting you,” he says, internally taking back the part where he said Ye-jun seemed normal. “Have this jar of strawberry jam as a greeting gift..?”

Ye-jun maintains eye contact with him as he wraps his fingers around the jar. He slowly rises to his original height, lips tugging into a canine-y smile once again. “It’s my pleasure. Please feel free to stop by again.”

Dante is definitely not stopping by again, lest he, you know, get sexually harassed while thinking about Halloween parties again. 

He moves onto the next neighbor with eyebrows furrowed and courage slowly depleting. Maybe the neighborhood’s secret is less of Halloween and more of, he doesn’t know, crime initiators or something. Sort of ridiculous, but just put it into perspective: prisoners who were released from jail and now had no social skills or awareness. Jules and Tanasha could be like- murderers. Alexei could be- oh, Dante doesn’t know- a hacker or something. Peng could be a semi-sentient robot- hence the emotionless behavior. And Ye-jun could be a yandere idol (because Dante still can’t stop thinking about how much he looks like NI-KI). Doesn’t that sound like quite the story? Dante would title it Daybreak. With a two. Because sequels are always superior. Daybreak 2 .

The thought makes his head hurt. Before he knows it, he’s already knocked on the next door. It’s only a brief wait before it gently opens to the sight of two girls, one significantly taller than Dante with pale skin, an eyepatch, and matted black pigtails and the other with… blood dripping down her forehead.

Okay. Dante is really going too far with the hallucinating.

He only has to blink once for it to go away (no door slamming, surprisingly). Then there’s only one girl, the pale one, who blinks back at him with a stunned expression. Frantically, she glances around herself, swatting the air a couple of times before she seems to calm down. Once she does, she bows (which, wow, Dante did not realize everyone in the neighborhood was crazy tall too) and splutters, “I’m so sorry I was totally unaware we had a new neighbor and my manners are really bad I thought you were someone else I knew better I’m so sorry!” 

She says it all in one breath, which is both concerning and amusing. Dante awkwardly reaches out and pats her shoulder in condolences. She immediately straightens back up at his touch. “It’s, um, okay. You didn’t come off as rude.”

“I’m Seoung Kwan,” she introduces, still speaking in an anxious tone like it’s her last day on Earth. Dante immediately categorizes her as the shy, too-easily embarrassed type, a little too quick and jumpy but in the neutral way. Unfortunately, she doesn’t do much to offset the already-assumed Halloween vibe of the neighborhood, as she’s dressed in all black. The eyepatch doesn’t help either- though it’s not as if Dante knows if she has a genuine issue with her eye or not. “Again, I’m so so sorry. I was just surprised! Um, you’re new around here, right? Of course you are, but like-”

Dante feels like it’s necessary to cut her off there. “I’m Dante Fontana-Rosa. I’ve been coming around without warning, and I’ve heard it’s been a while since you’ve had a new neighbor, so I understand if I startled you.”

“No, no, no!” Seoung waves her hands frantically. “It’s not your fault! Just, um,” she bites her lip. “Our neighborhood, it’s kinda, unique, so we’re just- so I’m- it’s hard to-”

“I’ve noticed,” Dante interrupts again. “So it’s normal around here, huh?”

She glances around, then hunches over herself a little. “It’s just, well… maybe nobody has told you yet. Have you met Andrew?”

Dante furrows his eyebrows. “Who?”

“I guess not,” she barrels on, “don’t worry about that. It’s just- well. They might not be very aware of it- or like, some people are, but it’s just- like, it’s complicated, you know? We’re um, very used to, or well- they’re very used to not putting up fronts because everyone here knows each other well, but sometimes it’s necessary, like right now. But that’s just… it’s hard for them, you know? Hard to- act like the standard. Not that it’s your fault or that you’re pressuring them!”

“Right,” Dante drawls, thinking that his rehabilitating-prisoner-no-social-skills theory isn’t very far off the mark. “Yeah, that’s why I want to get to know them more. It’s just hard, you know? When we’re so clearly on different wavelengths.”

“Yeah, um,” Seoung frowns. “If I were you- look, I don’t want to discourage you, but it might- take them a very long time. And I don’t-” she grimaces. “There could be repercussions. Not trying to scare you! Just… you should be cautious. When talking to them. Not all of them are open to, you know, you. New people. Or, like, it’s just… they might be… a little too….”

The more she speaks, the more Dante’s head spins. What repercussions can possibly come out of trying to converse with neighbors? Aside from being sexually harassed, of course. He holds up a hand to pause her ramble. “I get it,” he says. He does not get it. “Thank you for warning me, but honestly, there’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m just trying to be friendly, after all.”

Seoung fiddles with the rings on her hands. “Yeah, that’s… kinda the issue,” she mumbles. When Dante asks her to repeat what she said, she shakes her head. “Nevermind! Um, you should just… wait until you meet Andrew. He’ll probably… take care of you better than me.”

Dante raises an eyebrow. Since when was he a rabid dog who needed a caretaker? “...Uh huh.”

“And! Um! One more thing,” Seoung raises a shaky finger. “Please don’t come around my house after the sun sets. Just trust me on this! It’s- not that I don’t want you around, just, just for your own safety, really! I-” she bites her lip. “It’s like… it’s like this! I have this, this special job, and I get started after the sun sets, and you might really get hurt if you come around here because the job is, like, really special- just. Just don’t stop by once it’s dark. Please.”

“Uh huh,” Dante repeats, because it’s bold of Seoung to assume he wants to even get out of his house at night. Especially in a neighborhood like this . “Got it.” He’s less curious about this special job and more curious about who the hell Andrew is to be considered a better caretaker. He’s midway through making new assumptions (woah, police patrol member in the neighborhood- now doesn’t that just fit right in with his rehabilitating prisoner theory? Or, even better- a therapist!) when he blinks and suddenly there’s the same bloody-forehead girl in front of him.

Silence hangs in the air for a moment. Then Seoung and Dante shriek in unison, one stumbling back into the house and the other almost tripping off the steps of the front porch. Dante’s barely recovered from the mortification of screaming at the same pitch as Seoung when the spontaneously-appeared girl waves excitedly at him. She- thank God- has no more hallucinated blood flowing down her head, which makes way for Dante to make out dark skin and wavy black hair pinned up by a pink bow. Her eyes are scarily white, which- yeah. He’s not that surprised anymore. Must be some sort of genetic thing specific to the neighborhood.

“Oh my goodness,” Seoung stutters out, clutching her chest. “W-what did I say about- I thought-”

“I’m Seoung’s roommate,” the new girl interrupts, grinning uncannily. 

Seoung grimaces. “I thought you were- like. Staying- staying inside.”

“I couldn’t miss the opportunity to meet our new neighbor, right?”

The words sound more menacing than Dante thinks they should sound. And he’s not sure how ‘missing opportunities’ connects to the fact that she seemingly appeared from nowhere. In any case, though, Seoung seemed surprised too- so maybe it was just her roommate’s strange habit. “Um, yeah. Good to meet you too…”

“Kiara,” she replies. “Kiara Cruz. So great to meet you, Dante.”

Dante holds out his free hand for a handshake.

Kiara stares at his outstretched hand. “Oh. Uh. I don’t do handshakes.”

Wow. Okay. There are nicer ways to say his hands look un-handshake-able. He withdraws his hand and instead uses it to pick up a jar of peanut butter. “Well, here’s my greeting gift.” He glances behind himself and squints. “It’s getting pretty dark. You should hurry before your special job boss fires you.”

Kiara shoots Seoung a look , which, for some odd reason, seems a lot different compared to the typical wow-roommate-I-definitely-don’t-want-you-getting-fired look. Seoung grimaces and takes the jar from him. “Thank you. Oh- um. The neighbor next door is out today. And this weekend. And um. Every day until whenever he comes back. Which is a time I don’t know. So- yeah. Stay safe out there!”

Dante waves goodbye and continues on his trek. He skips the next house, following Seoung’s advice, and decides that the following one will be the last- well, save for the house directly across from his. He plans to go back to that one at the very end. (And hope that by some miracle his neighbor actually answers the door this time around.)

You know someone who does answer the door? The neighbor who’s door Dante now stands in front of. When it swings open, Dante immediately catches a concerningly strong whiff of smoke. Which is strange, because he also immediately comes face to face with a young man decked out in fluffy winter clothing. That is, a long coat that completely covers him head-to-toe (it has a weird bump in the back, though Dante decides to ignore that), mittens, a scarf pulled up high, a beanie, and earmuffs. The articles of clothing in question, Dante should mention, are all wet.

Dante can’t stop his jaw from dropping in shock. He glances down and finds a wet puddle at the man’s feet (which are also covered up, mind you). And ew. Soggy socks. But there are probably more pressing matters at hand.

“Um, is your house like… on fire, or…” Dante gestures to behind the neighbor, where the smoky scent seems to be coming from. 

“Don’t,” the young man sighs, like he’s physically exhausted, “don’t worry about that. My roommate has an issue with… fire. I told her to put it out because I knew you were coming, but. I’m Finley Marai, by the way.”

Unruly roommates . Dante knows a thing or two about that. “Dante Fontana-Rosa. Aren’t you hot dressing like that in the presence of fire?”

The bump in the back of Finley’s coat moves a little. Dante tries his best to ignore it. Probably an active hemorrhoid… or something. “...No.”

“And, um, should I be concerned about the… water?”

The bump moves again, harsher this time. Finley’s eye twitches in what seems to be annoyance. “...We own a lot of fish.”

“Oh, cool,” Dante says awkwardly. He likes fish. That is, to eat. “I go fishing with my dad often. He’s great at it. We’ve caught a lot.” Finley goes eerily silent and adopts a horrified expression (or at least as horrified as his expression can get when half of it is covered by the scarf). Dante has to pause for a few moments to realize that describing his conquests in fishing probably isn’t the best way to make a good impression on a fish pet-owner. He clears his throat. “Anyway… your roommate.”

“Right here,” calls a voice from inside. It’s sultry and has a lilt to it that Dante cringes at- he’s far too experienced in being hit on to not recognize it. Behind Finley, a tan, petite girl slides her way over with bright red lipstick and unruly brown hair. Her eyes narrow into crescents when she catches sight of Dante, pink tongue running over her lips. “Well, well, well. Aren’t you quite the catch.”

“Haha,” Dante says, humorlessly. He could very well tell her he’s not interested in women (hadn’t he already said so to another neighbor who clearly hadn’t been hitting on him?), but his lip twitches in interest. With her appearance, he’s sort of… curious how far she’ll go. Although it surely can’t be worse than Ye-jun Im.

“Taliyah Mehta,” she drawls, and Dante can tell that her voice is purposely pitched higher. “ So nice to meet you. Dante, was it?”

“Yeah, your new neighbor,” he affirms. She offers a handshake. Dante takes it, and- oh. Yep. That’s her hand trailing up his arm. Wow. Maybe he was being too hopeful when he said it couldn’t be worse than Ye-jun Im.

He offers a weak smile and withdraws his arm. “You, uh, you guys aren’t dating?” Which is a stupid question, because he’s already acknowledged that Finley’s been staring at Taliyah like she’s the devil’s smiling little succubus. 

“No, ew,” Finley immediately snaps, while Taliyah purrs, “Of course not.” 

She flutters her eyelashes at Dante. “I’m single. Although… you could change that.”

Oookay . “I’m gay.”

She blinks several times. Then Taliyah withdraws from where she had practically draped herself over Dante and says, “That works too.”

“Huh?” What the hell is that supposed to mean? “Right, um, do you… want some strawberry jam?”

Finley takes a jar (with quite a bit of effort, given that his mittens don’t have the most grip strength ever, believe it or not) and Taliyah waves goodbye with a smirk and a, See you in your dreams. Which, okay. Really creepy. He’s starting to think Finley’s glare wasn’t too uncalled for- maybe she really was some succubus who was going to secretly switch genders and infiltrate Dante’s dreams. He should’ve mentioned that even if she were a guy, she wouldn’t be his type- he was, unfortunately, into pathetic men. Tall, pathetic men who would easily flush and clam up and trip over their words in the face of Dante- men who would scramble to say nice things and keep Dante interested and beg with their eyes to please at least have a chance.

Men like the one who stands in front of Dante when he knocks once more on the door of the house across from his.

For a few moments, Dante almost thinks he’s hallucinating again. It wouldn’t be surprising given how many shocks he’d gone through in an hour alone, but the door doesn’t slam shut in his face and reopen to reality. There is no ‘blink, gone’. There is just Dante facing a tall, pathetic man who’s beautiful- moles scattered across his face and black bangs swept to the side and high ponytail disheveled. He has a chiseled jaw and dark eyebags and pouty lips and his T-shirt is unironed and looks as though it was thrown on just moments before. Better than that, though- it takes him approximately three seconds to start blushing.

Contrary to prior belief, maybe good things could come out of this neighborhood.

“Oh my God,” Pathetic Man breathes, almost unconsciously. “Oh my God.” He opens his mouth again, then shuts it, then steps outside of his house (barefoot, mind you) and shuts the door behind him. 

“Hi,” Dante says smartly. Which is slightly better than staring at someone’s feet, but, really, couldn’t he have settled for something more charming? 

“Hey,” Pathetic Man blurts. “Um. Hi. Hehe.” He giggles. Giggles . “Aha. Heh. Didn’t know, um, didn’t know tax collectors were, like, this- this cute these days. Haha.”

It’s so pathetic that Dante wants to cry. And squeal. And totally jump this guy. He should hold back on that thought though. Obviously. Duh. Other similar adjectives. “I’m actually your new neighbor. The house across from yours.”

Pathetic Man blinks. “Oh,” he says. Then, after a brief pause, in a more hurried tone, he continues, “Oh. Oh . Have you- oh my God-” Dante determines that this is not the same cute, subconscious oh my God from before, “-wait. Have you met anyone else?”

“Basically everyone,” Dante manages to answer. He attempts to point at each house. (He doesn’t even think Pathetic Man is paying attention.) “Um, like. Finley. Taliyah. Seoung. Kiara. Peng. Alexei. Ye-jun-”

“Oh my God ,” Pathetic Man cuts him off there. He drags a hand down his face. “Oh my God. Did you- are they-” he grimaces. “What do you… think about them?”

“Kinda weird,” Dante replies truthfully. “Or maybe really weird. I mean. Some are half-normal. Seoung seems normal. Aside from her special job or whatever. Ye-jun seemed normal. Until he, like, bent way too close to my neck.”

“Oh my God,” Pathetic Man repeats for the nth time. “Goddamn it, Ye-jun Im. It’s always you.” He barrels on like he hasn’t just cussed out a NI-KI lookalike. “Seoung’s special job?”

Dante scratches his head. “Like, you know, the reason why I can’t go over to her house after the sun sets?”

Pathetic Man stares at him for a moment, squinting like there’s gears working in his head. Slowly, he asks, “Did Alexei wear a mask?”

“Yeah. I saw the makeup underneath though. Pretty cool.”

“Makeup,” Pathetic Man drawls. “O-kay. Okay. No. Yeah. It’s really cool.” He whips around to stare at his own door, clasps his hands together, and turns to the sky. “Thank you,” he says to the darkening blue. “Thank you so much . I love you.” Then he turns back to Dante. “They’re just weird like that. It’s always been like this. Please ignore them. Wait- I mean- don’t- well. Okay. Ignore them. Ignore them unless I’m there. Wait.” He pauses again and takes a deep breath. “Okay. I’m Andrew Tran.”

So this is the rehabilitation therapist . Dante doesn’t think rehabilitation therapists are supposed to be so cute, but it’s his little made-up alternate universe anyway, so it doesn’t matter. “Dante Fontana-Rosa. Seoung told me about you.”

“Did she now?” Andrew seemingly reverts back to pathetic form. He’s blushing again, fidgety, like he’s afraid Seoung exposed all his dark secrets. It’s cute . 

Dante resists the urge to climb him like a tree. “She did. Said you could, uh, take care of me better than her. Or something.”

Andrew stares blankly at Dante for a few moments before his mouth forms an O shape. “Right. Right . You’re- ahem. You are going to countinue living here, right?”

“Well I bought the house, so I sure do hope so.”

“Right,” Andrew breathes through his mouth. “Right! Okay. Look. Here’s the thing. Maybe a lot of people have told you this already in different ways, but I’m just going to say it again. Our neighborhood is… special . Mostly because we haven’t had a new neighbor in a long time, but also because… because, um. A lot of the people here are, like… social outcasts! Haha. Social outcasts. Right.” He smiles sadistically like the thought amuses him. “So. They act pretty strange. They are pretty strange. And they’re trying their best- or- some of them are- to accommodate you. But I’m just- putting this out there. Not all of them are… like. Safe.” Andrew groans. “Oh my God. I hate this.”

“It’s okay,” Dante reassures like his head isn’t spinning from Andrew’s words. “Take your time.”

“Just- it’s really complicated. It’ll take some getting used to,” Andrew says. He reaches out for one of Dante’s hands. Dante lets him take it. “I’m sure you can already tell. But- best case scenario, you don’t learn the hard way. And, um, the easy way is… you let me help you! Yeah. I know them well. All of them well! And I’m- not- not really a social outcast..? Look, it’s just- I think I can help you the most. With getting used to them. Just- oh my God. This is hard. Can you just promise me something?”

Dante nods dumbly, because who can say no in the face of an adorably pathetic man clutching your hand? 

Andrew bites his bottom lip that Dante really wants to kiss. “Promise me you won’t try to interact with any of them unless I’m there. Please.”

Dante nods again, subconsciously.

Andrew lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay. That’s it.”

“Right.” Dante then properly registers his words. He blinks, furrowing his eyebrows. “Right? Wait. But I’m just- I think friendliness is a core aspect of getting to know others.”

Andrew’s expression softens. “Of course. Yeah. No, it usually is. It’s just- they’re special . And I don’t want you getting into trouble just because of that.”

“How bad can it possibly be-”

“Dante,” Andrew pleads.

Dante’s mouth shuts. Woah . That’s the power of a cute guy. “...Sorry. I’m really grateful for your offer. Honestly, it’s been a strange day.”

“I know,” Andrew’s shoulders relax. He giggles. Again . “Believe me, I’ve gone through this too. Er, once upon a time. But I promise you- continuing to live here- it’s going to be worth it.”

Dante stares at his smiling face. Yeah, it definitely will be .

-

“Climb him like a fucking tree,” Johann Schubert says to Dante over the phone, which only tells Dante that he definitely should not have called the one guy who’s been in love with his best friend Sebastian Czerny ever since middle school. Johann’s love advice tends to be like that: snippets of passion and bullshit ‘cus obviously he can’t get his act together to properly confess to Sebastian. How does Dante know that? Well, aside from the fact that it’s obvious, he and Johann have known each other since freshman year of college. In fact, the latter was half of the reason why Dante chose to change professions in the first place. (Although Dante is also half sure that Johann only encouraged it so that Dante would stop crashing at his house every other day.)

“I’m not climbing him like a fucking tree,” Dante rubs his forehead. “I am not climbing anything. And I definitely did not call you to hear that sort of advice. Not like you would know anything about that anyway.”

Mentioned Sebastian Czerny invades the FaceTime frame as Johann shrugs. “Isn’t this guy coming over in like, ten minutes?” 

Seven minutes, to be precise. You see, aside from Andrew jumbling more of his words trying to fumble out a good impression, they made plans. Something like, Yeah my house is crazy dirty, I’m so weak, definitely can’t arrange things on my own haha and the responding, Oh that’s such a crazy coincidence because I happen to have arms . Which meant this wasn’t going to be the last time ‘this guy’ was coming over. Which meant Dante had, like, an abundance of house cleaning dates for the next week (or month, if he really wants to go that far).

The best part is? Seoung was right. Andrew is a lot better than the other neighbors. He’s normal (not faux normal, like Ye-jun Im) (Dante knows he keeps on bringing up that instance way too much- but hey, can you blame him? Seemingly normal NI-KI lookalike gone neck-sniffer; why shouldn’t he bring it up?) and kind and friendly and unbelievably understanding of Dante’s neighborly concerns. That is, except for the fact that he was barefoot standing outside of his house. 

Dante pointed it out midway through their conversation, and Andrew had immediately shut up. Before Dante had time to be concerned, Andrew had clasped his hands together and said in his serious tone, “Do not ever try to go inside. It’s crazy in there. Just don’t. To be honest, I’m not even sure how I deal with it all the time….”

The last part had been muttered like an afterthought, though Dante hadn’t really registered it. But, really, it was only one weird thing. One con that was totally smothered underneath all the pros, and it wasn’t even really a harmful con. Dante assumed it had something to do with the banging he had heard the first time around; he would’ve asked about it further if he hadn’t been so hellbent on getting Andrew flustered again. 

Whatever. Dante didn’t need to enter Andrew’s house anyway. Andrew just needed to enter his . On a date. A housekeeping date. So romantic.

Dante sighs dreamily. “Seven minutes, to be precise.”

“Six now,” mutters Johann. “Anyway, I was joking. Kind of. Honestly, I’m a little concerned.”

“Me too,” Sebastian cuts in, because he always needs to be on the same page as Johann. Dante seriously wonders how they’ve managed to stay single for so long. “Given that the rest of your neighborhood is weird, I wouldn’t put it past him to be acting nice just to secretly murder you.” 

Dante makes a noise of protest. “But he’s the exception, isn’t he? Besides, half of this trip is supposed to be him giving me tips or whatever.” 

Yeah, ‘tips’. Tips on dealing with their neighbors, ‘cus apparently that’s just how troublesome they are. A part of Dante finds it somewhat endearing that Andrew wants to look out for him- the other is acknowledging that a cute man showing up to your household with a paper list of neighborhood tips is a bit of a turnoff. (After all, Dante would much rather take a different kind of tip.) (God, ew. He can’t believe he just thought that, though it’s not like it’s a lie.) 

Sebastian and Johann glance at each other, then turn to the camera with the same exasperated expression. Dante throws up his hands in surrender.

Before he can open his mouth to further defend himself, there’s a knock at the door. Dante snaps upright. “Ah, that’s him, that’s him,” he yelps, not even bothering to say goodbye before hanging up. Scrambling to gather his bearings, Dante combs a hand through his hair several times before he opens the door. 

Andrew is blushing. He’s also dressed nicer , cuter, or at least a lot better than he had been just hours before. Dante notices the way his hair curls outward, a stark contrast to its wildness from before, and the way his lips are a darker shade of red. He’s cute. Dante tells him so.

Andrew whispers back, “You too,” and the rest is- well. A blur.

At least Dante can recall snippets of it later, when he’s sitting in bed staring through the cracks of his blinds at Andrew’s house like he can tell who’s inside when he really can’t because for some reason the whole street has no lights and he assumes Andrew is asleep because there aren’t any on in his house either. That’s the run-on sentence way of saying he’s giddy and high on adrenaline.

Dante didn’t have any groceries (nor a functioning fridge, mind you) (which is probably something he should invest in, given that the nearest supermarket is… far), and since they had planned to eat together, Andrew had brought most of it over. What Dante did have was experience in cooking and a functioning stove, so Andrew, who admitted pretty early on (early as in right after he almost cut his own finger off while chopping vegetables) that he couldn’t cook, had simply leaned against the barren counter mumbling about pretty kitchen wallpaper designs while Dante had cooked. 

Dante isn’t saying he’s into men who don’t cook, but Andrew had looked way too pretty standing in the kitchen, fingers brushing against the dirty countertop. Way too pretty, and he’d also seemed way too interested in finding the best home decor design for Dante, which Dante simultaneously found domestic and so very sweet because Andrew worded it in a way that made it sound like it was a them thing- an Andrew and Dante thing. The best part? Dante had asked, briefly, when they had been dining on the rotting sofa together, if Andrew had put in the same effort when he had first moved into his house.

Andrew had looked up, blinked at him, looked back down at his bok choy, and admitted, “Of course not. It’s just ‘cus it’s you. ”

Which Dante wants to scream about. Because moving in is starting to feel less like him and his awful author inspiration plague and more like him and Andrew ’s new life as newlyweds or something. And Dante is beginning to find the neighborhood less and less desolate because it’s starting to feel strangely like a home and not a house- because Andrew left his shoes in the shoe cabinet (under the excuse that he’d be back soon anyway) (although he ran home barefoot, which Dante laughed at) and Andrew left his grocery bag and its contents of leafy vegetables and Andrew ordered the wallpapers for the bathrooms and kitchen and living room already (and only those rooms, because he’d linked his arm with Dante while they had been surveying the bedrooms and decided that they would paint the walls together soon). Literally all that’s left is Andrew, physically Andrew, there in Dante’s bedroom urging him to go to sleep early like he had just hours ago at Dante’s doorstep. (Surprise, surprise- Dante’s not going to sleep early, and he hasn’t been ‘going to sleep’ for an eternity already.)

And then after their shabby little dinner that Andrew claimed was the most romantic dinner he’d had in a long time, they’d both put on rubber gloves and sweeped up one bedroom ( one ) together. In the midst of dust and surveying the bed of poor condition, Andrew had started rambling on about neighbors and houses.

“Seoung’s safe,” he’d said, “but her roommate is not. Don’t try to touch Kiara. She’s really, um, averse to touch. Don’t try to touch Alexei. Try not to listen to Jules. Don’t touch Tanasha’s cat. Ye-jun… don’t hang around him. Peng is fine, just a little weird. Finley is… um. You probably won’t see him much anyway. And don’t go around Taliyah. At all . Remember the dream catcher I gave you just now? Keep that in your room at all times.”

“The house next to Seoung’s?” Dante had asked.

“Cole?” Andrew had paused. “He’s… fine. He’s just gone on certain days of the month.”

So, yeah, neighbor tips. Which all consisted of limited interactions and questionable morals- after all, wasn’t it a little inhumane to treat social outcasts like social outcasts ? Well, it wasn’t as if Dante could question Andrew about it, because it was obvious that the latter knew more than him, and really- Dante didn’t care. He didn’t care about the neighbors or their weird habits, he cared about one neighbor, that neighbor being Andrew, who stared at Dante for a few moments after realizing he had rambled too much and then proceeded to light up into a bright shade of red. Andrew, who pressed himself up to Dante on the rotting couch to suggest patterned bedsheets and home decor. Andrew, who pulled out a battered iPad from his bag with his eyes alight in passion and asked, “Wanna watch EN-O’CLOCK?” (They watched many episodes of EN-O’CLOCK before they miraculously arrived at the topic of The Summer I Turned Pretty.)

And after that, sitting on the edge of the bed together watching as Dante’s orders went through (because for some awful reason, he’d forgotten that moving in meant you had to, well, buy some necessities) (not very adult of him, but whatever), they’d played a game of 20 Questions. Here’s what Dante learned:

• Andrew lives alone.
• Andrew is a certified college dropout.
• Andrew moved into his house four years ago.
• Andrew is close with Seoung, Alexei, and Ye-jun. (Well, the latter he had frantically denied, but Dante could tell it was a friendship, just a messy and hot-blooded one.)
• Andrew is an artist.
• An artist!
• A full-blown artist. Who sells his paintings.
• Sells. His. Paintings.
• And they’re beautiful, mind you! Andrew had showed him a few, and- wow. Maybe inspiration really could be garnered from depressing scenery.
• That’s not even the best part. The best part is-
• Andrew promised Dante he’d paint him eventually.

Dante buries his face in his hands. Cleaning was most definitely a harder task to focus on when there was a beautiful man next to him, given that he was still sleeping in a rotting bed in a rotting room. But God, he didn’t mind it at all if this was the only consequence that came with being able to get to know said beautiful man. And honestly, the less he cleaned in one trip, the better. That meant more future schedules and more housekeeping dates and more domesticality and-

Dante falls in love on the first day he moves in.

And it continues like this:

It’s not like Dante wants to interact with the other neighbors. Especially since they’re weird and Andrew had told him not to and whatever, whatever, whatever jazz Andrew had tacked on. But it’s almost like he’s a magnet to them, because over the course of the next few weeks, the interactions pop up everywhere.

Example:

Dante hears a scream from the front yard. Blinking up from where he had been staring at the text-filled Calibri Google document, he squints outside through the cracks of the window blinds and promptly catches an eyeful of a delivery man running away. At least the packages don’t run away with him; Dante stands up and stretches, preparing to fetch them.

Why is the delivery man screaming and running away? Dante has no clue. But he assumes it has something to do with Peng, who he finds standing right behind his car when he’s halfway through picking up the boxes. Peng, who’s still dressed in all black robes, his right eye still covered by shadows. Oh, and did Dante mention the scythe? ‘Cus it’s still there.

Dante sighs. Poor delivery man . First thing added to his list: stop ordering online and traumatizing delivery people. “Hey there,” is what he says to Peng.

Peng stares at him silently. Presumably because he’s shy and Chinese, or whatever Alexei had said.

Dante grunts as he lifts the boxes full of wallpaper and whatever else he had ordered. Decorations? Lights? Plants? He can’t really remember- it had mostly been Andrew pointing and placing orders. “So, uh, how have you been?”

He almost expects Peng to say nothing again. To his surprise, the latter replies, “You have lots of time.”

Dante blinks, holding the packages to his hip. “Uh,” he says, assessing Peng, who he’s beginning to notice casts quite the grim reaper shadow. “Yeah. I know. It’s just, like, porch-thieves, am I right? Or whatever they’re called. The sooner I get the boxes in, the better.” He flashes a wince-smile at the end for good measure.

Peng does not return the sentiment. Dante’s just about to ask him about his pumpkin farming when suddenly there’s a shout from across the street. Dante looks up against the bright sun to see Andrew pulling up his sweatpants and dashing towards them, barefoot.

Peng’s lip twitches. He eyes Andrew for a moment once he arrives before the two of them, then turns and walks away.

Andrew pants, out of breath. “What did I say about talking to them?”

“I didn’t try to!” Dante protests. Andrew is cute with his hair down, messy and unbrushed. He’s also cute while simultaneously holding onto his pants tightly (the drawstrings are loose) and trying to pull his shirt down. Not that Dante minds the pale expanse of skin showing and the slip of Spider-man underwear peeking out, but he places the boxes down and helps Andrew pull down his shirt anyway. As he’s tying the sweatpants’ drawstrings together, ignoring how Andrew has gone embarrassingly still, he says, “He scared away my delivery guy. And I wanted my packages. And I didn’t know he was there, I swear.”

He backs up and admires his handiwork- handiwork as in Andrew flushed and stuttering. At some point, Andrew composes himself and says, “I-I-I mean. I get it! I wasn’t, like, trying to blame you or anything! Just, um. Okay.” He breathes in, then gestures towards the boxes on the floor. “Well, I’m here already, so we can get these in and get started, yeah?”

Dante smiles. “Yeah.”

Example:

There’s a knock at the door. Dante is laying flat on the newly-purchased carpet when he hears it, rolling onto his side to squint at the entryway. Andrew never knocks- after he successfully acquired a key to the house, he never bothered to. But maybe he developed a sense of manners overnight. Dante pushes himself to his feet and opens the door.

Taliyah’s pouting face greets him. “Hey, sexy.”

Dante sighs resolutely, weighing the consequences of closing the door in her face.

“Haven’t seen you around lately,” she says, placing both hands on the doorframe and peeking inside. “Say, did you get any gifts from Andrew…?”

“Like what?” Dante asks, just because he’s not sure if Andrew ordering home decor counts as ‘gifts’.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she taps her chin. “Like, a dreamcatcher?”

Dante squints. “Yeah, he gave me one on the first day I moved in.”

Taliyah hums in understanding, bobbing her head up and down. “Makes sense. No, makes a lot of sense. Hm . I’m gonna let him have this one. Changing into a male is sort of inconvenient anyway.”

“Huh,” says Dante, and then suddenly Andrew is out of breath, standing between the two of them again, covering Taliyah’s mouth with one of his hands and using the other to heave.

“She’s talking nonsense!” Andrew exclaims with as much volume as he can muster while he’s fighting for his breath. “So, um, hey! Hi Dante. I was really bored so I came over! Um, she’s really weird.” Then, whisper-shouting, he says to Taliyah, “Taliyah, lay the fuck off.”

She flashes him a glance, mouth still covered. Then she flips him off, turns around, and slides away.

“She’s so weird, haha,” Andrew explains to Dante. “Whatever she told you or mumbled or whatever, just ignore it. Like seriously. Ignore it.”

Andrew’s protectiveness is sort of endearing. But there’s a part of Dante that’s squirming in confusion, because yeah- they’re weird, and yeah, he likes Andrew a lot better, but it’s not like he wants his social circle to be confined to one person. And besides, hadn’t it just been said that it took time? Dante is willing to use that time, wait that time- as long as that means he can make some friends in his neighborhood. 

Well. Whatever, right? Dante could bring it up with Andrew anytime- now wasn’t necessary.

Example: 

Cole Volkov is a great guy.

No, really! Although, like Seoung, he has a strange job that requires him to go out on certain days of the month, he’s really a great guy. For the most part, he’s normal. He has normal-ish hobbies (caring for dogs…?) and a normal life and tries his best to make normal conversation with Dante. He’s also friendly, a trait that is obviously not present in other neighbors. In fact, he’s tried setting up hangouts with Seoung and Dante multiple times. Friendly! Almost like a puppy, Dante could say.

Here’s the issue: tried . None of their hangout plans have actually gone through, and it’s not that it’s Cole’s fault- it’s Dante’s. More specifically, Andrew.

Andrew, who squishes himself between the two of them whenever they talk. Andrew, who shuts down every single suggestion Cole makes. Andrew, who’s making excuses upon excuses to why Dante can’t come to this and that and whatever. Andrew, who’s very sweet, but- damn.

It’s the sad puppy eyes Cole makes every time. Like now, when Andrew has his arm slung over Dante’s shoulder once more. Dante’s heart softens involuntarily- he starts, “I’d love to make some tea-“

“But his stove is broken!” Andrew interrupts. Dante squeezes his eyes shut. “So, so sorry, Cole.”

Cole’s puppy eyes worsen. 

Dante sighs. “It’s really not,” he says, ignoring the pleading look Andrew sends him. “We haven’t been able to hang out ever. This is a great time-“

“ Not a great time,” Andrew tries again. “‘Cus he’s got-“

“I do not have-“

“There’s things we have to-“

“I can unbox a rug on my own-“

“So he really can’t-“

“I can go,” Dante finishes, rolling his eyes. “I’d love to have tea and biscuits with you and Seoung this weekend.”

Cole brightens up. “Great!” He exclaims, clapping his hands like a cute puppy. “I’ll see you on Saturday then!” And then he bounds away with an imaginary tail wagging behind him. 

There’s a brief silence in the air before Andrew turns to Dante, pouting. It’s definitely not as cute as Cole’s, but Dante still sighs.

“I don’t get what’s so wrong about hanging out with them,” he starts. “Or, well, I get the others, but Seoung and Cole are harmless, seriously.”

“You don’t know that-“

“Yes I do,” Dante snaps. Andrew lowers his head like a chastised cat. “I really think you’re being a little too protective, Andrew. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a grown adult, and I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

Andrew says nothing in return.

So on, so forth. You get the point. There’s lots of instances after and in between those mentioned: Jules giving him a free serenade, Finley stopping by to advocate fish rights, Kiara appearing out of nowhere inside of Dante’s house (Seoung says something about her being an expert at breaking in?), normal neighbor things. Dante’s strangely starting to get used to it, too. He claps and compliments Jules’ singing, tells Finley he’ll consider telling his dad to pause on the fishing, and asks Kiara if she wants a slice of his grilled cheese sandwich because he’s half-lactose-intolerant. On the flip side, Andrew’s always hurrying to end those interactions: gifting Dante a new pair of noise-cancelling headphones, distracting Finley by exclaiming There’s a fish out of water over there!, shrieking loudly when he exits the bathroom to find Dante and Kiara sharing a meal.

Dante would tell him to lay off, but here’s the thing- interactions with his neighbors aren’t the only noteworthy experiences from his weeks living in the new neighborhood. 

Example:

It’s a sunny day when Andrew declares they’re going on a road trip. Said road trip is not a real road trip- just a trip to the nearest Target, which is far enough to make not-real-road-trip into real-road-trip. Dante’s not really big on doing shopping in person, but that’s fine, ‘cus there’s only one reason why he’s ever gone to Target:

“God damn it!” Andrew exclaims with a groan. Dante shrieks right after him, clutching onto the tiny photocard in his hands with fervor. “ Ah! It’s always him!”

Him being NI-KI, whom they both agreed reminded them way too much of Ye-jun Im. Andrew has pulled his photocards around four times in a row already, empty albums scattered across the patterned rug. What’s good is that NI-KI is Dante’s bias-wrecker (“What?!” Andrew says incredulously when Dante tells him so. “Him? Him? I mean he’s great and all, but he looks so much like Ye-jun-“), and Dante’s been pulling nonstop Heeseungs, so they’ve been trading like crazy.

Dante doubles over in laughter as Andrew glares at NI-KI’s winking face. He composes himself just enough to flip over his own photocard- only to see the same exact winking face staring back at him. Then he’s doubling over in laughter again.

“I’m going into the photocard-selling business,” Andrew tells him even as he manages to crack a smile himself. 

At some point, Dante’s chest starts to hurt from laughing; he draws his arms around Andrew’s shoulders and heaves. Then he mumbles, “You make me laugh like no one else has before.”

Example:

Impromptu baking session. Or so Andrew says.

Dante’s beginning to find that the latter is very, very interested in impromptu whatever sessions. Which is amazing, because it’s inspiration at its finest- in the very depths of Dante’s Google Drive, there’s drafts upon drafts of strange neighbors and meet-cutes, quality-time bonding and painters. 

Andrew comes in uninvited (well, very invited, if Dante has to be honest) with four boxes of cake mix under his arms. He takes out the sugar, whole milk, eggs, and protein powder from Dante’s various cabinets and fridge, and declares that although cutting vegetables definitely did not work out, baking should, because, well, baking didn’t require cutting vegetables.

That being said, Dante’s kitchen is a mess afterwards. Or in the middle. Or at the very beginning, because Andrew says “How do you turn this on?” and sets the mixer to the highest speed without waiting for an answer. The flour and eggs and milk and everything else in the bowl go flying after that. 

Which is- fine. Sort of. Because Dante manages (somewhat) to salvage it, and suddenly the two of them are hunched over cake-mix-cupcakes, squeezing out very ugly Christmas (New Years?) patterns on them. Which also becomes a mess just as quickly, because Andrew turns to Dante midway through and Dante’s breath catches in his throat because, hey, kissing during decorating cupcakes is a yes-go for sure and then Andrew smears frosting all over his face with a war cry and suddenly the two of them are grappling with each other, sticky and covered in sugar, cupcakes forgotten and half-crushed in their struggle.

Which is- great. No ‘sort of’. Because Dante collapses onto Andrew afterward, the two of them laughing against each other, taking turns licking frosting off one another- and then they fall into a comfortable silence after a long while, and suddenly Andrew is reaching over and brushing Dante’s hair aside, running a finger across Dante’s lips and licking the captured frosting off.

Dante laughs, breathy, and says, “Gross.”

Example:

Andrew does end up painting him, which is not surprising because Dante learns pretty quickly that he always keeps his promises. He does it with a warning beforehand, a plethora of, “I’m rusty”, “I’ve never been that good”, “Honestly, drawing portraits is terribly hard still”’s and other such excuses. But seriously, Dante can’t draw for shit- he tells Andrew so, and reassures him that even a stick figure would impress Dante.

Andrew shoots him a bright smile at that. Dante’s heart skips a beat.

And although it’s sort of a mess because Andrew’s way too good at knocking paint over, the dirtied garage floors are worth it. Dante’s back aches from staying still for too long (really, how do full-time models do it?), but when Andrew spins the easel around, all he can do is open his mouth and gape like a fish.

Dante doesn’t know how pretty he’s supposed to be. He’s not sure how likeliness in art works. Andrew has told him a million times before that a relationship with art is a relationship with the devil, that creating is pain and that the result is not what makes it worth it, but what is the price. And Dante knows, as a writer- as a creator who knows pain much too intimately- that the definition of a ‘finished product’ consists of the line ‘never satisfying’. He knows that no amount of words can make creating less painful. But he reaches out, touches it, and says, “It’s beautiful.”

Because it is.

Andrew says, “Because it’s you.”

So maybe Dante is falling more and more in love with his weird neighbors. But he’s also falling more and more in love with Andrew.

He just wishes, desperately, that there was some sort of balance between the two. But every time, he can tell that Andrew is holding back. There’s a truth that makes him hesitate- something that he knows but Dante doesn’t, something that has Andrew pulling back when they’re a breath away, catching Dante’s sleeve when he’s leaving for Seoung’s house. 

Maybe Dante doesn’t need the truth. But God, does he want it.

And it ends like this:

(That’s what you expect, right? It’s nearing the end of Dante’s document- his weird crazy Daybreak 2 story. But it’s not the ending.

Have you ever heard the saying, Everything has an end, except bananas, which have two ?

That saying is wrong. Bananas aren’t the only exception.)

It really starts like this:

Andrew, Dante. In Dante’s living room. With the TV playing Squid Game Season 2 because they’ve both agreed that it’ll be mid. A very, very regular night.

A very, very irregular night when Andrew says, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Dante’s hand pauses in its reaching-into-popcorn-bowl motion. He looks at Andrew. 

Andrew looks back at him. Then he says, “Oh my God,” and runs out of Dante’s house, barefoot.

To his credit, Dante doesn’t even sigh. He just makes sure the door is locked (Kiara’ll probably show up anyway, but whatever) and goes to bed.

Then he wakes up the next morning, walks out of his house barefoot, and knocks on Andrew’s door. When Andrew opens it, he kisses the apology off his lips.

“Was wondering when you’d say that,” Dante says against his lips. Andrew squeaks something like a protest, but Dante’s waited way too long, so he shuts him up again and pushes the two of them into Andrew’s house.

They’re halfway to what Johann would call Level 3 Kissing when the banging starts. Dante ignores it as long as he can, even when Andrew’s growing increasingly tense beneath him, but there’s really a limit to how much pan-clanging a man can take when he’s trying to get dicked down. It takes approximately five seconds of styrofoam ASMR to have Dante parting ways with Andrew’s very sexy lips and shouting, “I am very violent with cockblockers!”

The banging momentarily stops.

“Oh my God,” Andrew breathes, flushed and panting. “Iris. Iris, I swear to God. Let a man get dicked down.”

“I thought I was the one getting dicked down,” Dante mumbles. “Who’s Iris?”

Andrew snaps his mouth shut. “Um.”

“Um?”

“Yeah, um. Can we do this in your house?”

“No,” answers Dante unhesitatingly. “You’re going to explain everything about you and this neighborhood right now. Because obviously you haven’t been telling the truth about a great deal and it’s the reason why you’ve been holding back but honestly I don’t feel like holding back anymore and my patience is gone because I’m dick-hungry so I’d like a full explanation. Now. Including why we can’t fuck in your house.”

Andrew sighs. “Promise me you won’t move away.”

“I’m not moving away , Andrew, I’m in love with you and I think long distance relationships are a scam.”

“I think they could work,” Andrew squeaks with a hurt sound. “Okay. I’m going to sound crazy, but you asked for it, so you’re therefore required to believe me. Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Get to the fucking point, Andrew.”

“Right,” he yelps. “I see ghosts. Actually, I see a lot more than that. You know like, spiritualists? Mediums? Me. That’s me. I see, like, energy. Spiritual energy. Yin and Yang. And ghosts. And like it’s sort of genetic because- okay. Iris is my grandfather’s ghost. Actually, she’s not the only one, she just hates me the most. There’s also Dae-jung-“ he points to somewhere behind Dante, “Gabrielle, Nathan, Eiji- hey! Eiji! Hands off! Just because he can’t feel you touching him doesn’t mean I appreciate you touching him!”

“What?” Says Dante, instinctively shuffling closer to Andrew. “Um. Ghosts?”

Andrew sighs. “I know it’s a little bit hard to digest. All you have to know is that my grandfather under the same name as me committed some grave sin, killed a bunch of academy students, sent the world into chaos, and had a bunch of ghosts haunting him until he died. Then after he died, the ability to see these sorts of things and the ghosts themselves passed onto me.”

“So you’re haunted,” Dante starts slowly.

“Yes, but technically no. They’re just annoying.”

“This is really hard to believe.”

“I’m not schizophrenic!” Andrew yelps. “Look, wait- Dae, be an angel for me and pick up a chair, please?”

Behind Andrew, a chair begins floating.

“Oh,” Dante says. And then, “ Oh. Oh my God. Ghosts are real.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” Andrew rushes to explain, “it’s just- I really liked you from the start, and I really didn’t want to scare you away, ‘cus I know a guy being haunted is sort of a turnoff, and I just really, really liked you because well- you’re cute and you’re super sweet and genuinely the coolest most amazing person I’ve ever met and you listen to me, you talk to me, you love the same things as me, and you love our neighbors ; that’s such a hard thing to do but the moment I realized you were determined to like them, I became determined to like you- well not really because it’s really easy to like you, I mean, I’m in love with you, but I totally understand if it’s a dealbreaker and you want to go ahead and move away right now or break things off with me- I mean, I hope you don’t, but I would understand-“

“Andrew,” Dante interrupts. “I’m in love with you. Completely and utterly in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since the first day I moved in and you told me Conrad should kill himself. I’ve only ever been interested in things for three months but it’s been three months and I’m so very into you still and I don’t think it’s going away anytime soon because I fall in love with you a little more every time I see you. I want to live with you forever. I want to watch you run away to your house barefoot forever. I want to trade NI-KI and Heeseung photocards with you forever. No ghost is going to change that.”

Andrew’s mouth opens. Then closes. Then he squeaks out, “I love you too,” and tugs him back in.

(There’s no accompanying styrofoam ASMR this time around.)

(Thank God for that.)

(Seriously, everything has an end. Even bananas, because they have two, and two is more than none.)

And it ends like this:

“Kiara’s a ghost,” Andrew says, “like the real deal. She’s haunting Seoung, technically, but she’s not bound to her like my ghosts are bound to my house.”

So Dante doesn’t flinch next time Kiara appears behind him in the kitchen. He offers her a slice of toast and tells her, “I appreciate you removing the blood, but I’m not that queasy when it comes to gore.”

Kiara immediately brightens, grinning ear to ear. “I knew he would tell you eventually!” She squeals in joy before going semi-transparent. Non-hallucinated blood drips down her forehead.

“Seoung’s possessed,” Andrew says, “that’s her ‘special job’ and the reason why she has an eyepatch. Seriously though- her other form is scary. You shouldn’t go around there at night.”

So next time Dante’s bringing pads over to Seoung’s house, he shoots her a text saying, “Left them at the sidewalk ‘cus I’m scared of getting mauled.”

At 6am, Seoung replies, “OMG. Andrew told u????”

“Finley’s a fish hybrid,” Andrew says, “um, I’d just be glad he didn’t murder you when you told him about your dad’s fishing hobby.”

So Dante shows up unprompted at Finley’s door with a printed image of his dad’s texted promise. When Finley opens it, he explains, “I seriously got him to stop fishing. And I’m so sorry for making you wear soggy socks.”

It takes Finley a moment to register Dante’s words. Then he replies, “Oh, finally ,” and starts stripping off his winter-wear.

“Taliyah is a succubus,” Andrew says, “relatively harmless, kinda. Just likes to set a lot of fires here and there and infiltrate your dreams. Thank God for my grandfather’s medium-ness- I recognized her identity the moment we met, so I escaped any dream infiltrations.”

So as Finley is peeling off his gloves (his scales are awesome, Dante notes proudly), Taliyah peers over his shoulder. “So you know now!”

Dante winces. “Just putting it out there that I have a partner now.”

Taliyah sighs. “I know. A shame, really, but I’ve always looked hotter in female form anyway.”

“Jules is a siren and Tanasha is a witch,” Andrew says, “I seriously don’t know how or why you resisted Jules’ singing so effortlessly. Maybe that’s just how gay you are.”

So Dante digs out empty chemist decorations from his various junk-boxes and shows up at the couple’s door with them cradled in his arms.

“You’re too kind,” Tanasha coos, still too-polite, still holding a black cat.

“Your singing probably lures a lot of guys,” Dante reassures Jules, who’s staring at him strangely. “It’s just, I’m really gay.”

“Ye-jun’s a vampire,” Andrew says, “self explanatory.”

So Dante stands there awkwardly when Andrew knocks on Ye-jun’s door and throws garlic at his face as soon as it’s opened. He watches in amusement as Ye-jun hisses and attempts to strangle Andrew, who’s screaming That’s what you get for trying to drink my boyfriend’s blood! , without making contact with the sunlight.

“Peng’s a grim reaper, Alexei’s a zombie,” Andrew says. “Great duo, especially considering neither of them have the means to properly socialize.”

So Dante asks Alexei while the pair passes by unsuspectingly, “Do you really die to peas? Like the peashooters in Plants Vs. Zombies?”

“H-h-huh,” Alexei stutters.

“Eighty five,” Peng tells Dante after a moment of silent consideration. Dante pumps his fist in the air at the number- the same amount of years as Andrew.

“And Cole’s a werewolf,” Andrew finishes.

So Dante pets Cole’s head gently the next time they hang out, cooing, “No wonder you’re so cute. No wonder!”

Cole’s newly-revealed wolf ears twitch. “I… I wish he never told you the truth!”

“Honestly, they’re just super weird,” Andrew sighs. “Again, if you want to leave, I get it.”

And he’s right- Dante’s neighbors are super weird. Not to mention his new boyfriend, who’s even weirder.

Luckily for them, Dante just so happens to be looking for book inspiration in weirdness. (In other words, he won’t be leaving anytime soon.)