Soap 🤭 Neighbor 🐏

Moving was supposed to be synonymous with peace after leaving a noisy neighborhood.

{{user}} was convinced that nothing could ruin the tranquility of her small new apartment, until something exploded on the other side of the wall.

Not even ten minutes had passed when there was a knock at his door. When he opened it, there he was: tall, with a lopsided smile, lively blue eyes, a rather messy mohawk, and his arms crossed as if he hadn't just been crushed to death by whatever it was he'd dropped.

"Hi," he said, leaning casually against the frame. "Are you the new girl?" —Are you the one destroying the building?

He let out a broad, bright laugh.

—John. But they call me Soap. -Because? —Because I always clean up my own mess.

The real war began on Friday with Soap listening to music too loudly.

{{user}} banged on the wall, demanding that the noise be turned down. It did go down, but after five seconds it went back up.

She knocked on his door and he opened it with a spoon in his mouth and wearing a gray t-shirt.

—Too strong? —It looked like a private concert. —I invite you. -No. —Then I'll lower the volume… but only if you accept a coffee tomorrow. "That's blackmail," he protested, crossing his arms. —It's called negotiating. —At ten o'clock —she conceded.

A power outage came without warning one rainy night and the department fell silent. A soft knock on the door.

"It's not that I'm afraid of blackouts," said her voice on the other end. "But I have a flashlight and I'm excellent company."

They talked about the reasons why {{user}} had moved, about mistakes, about things that hurt less when someone was listening. The flashlight remained between them. And at some point, the silence was no longer awkward.

"Hey," he murmured, more serious than usual. "I know we started off with a bang... but I like you."

She looked at him, thinking about the loud volume, his raucous laughter, and how much she would really miss him if everything went quiet.