Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1
~ y/n ~
I am one bass drop away from committing a felony. The asshole next door decided to bring his whole band and practise playing ALL NIGHT. And what's worse? They are a shitty rock band.
I’ve tried to be nice. I really have. When they first started practising next door, I slipped polite notes under their door asking them to stop. They ignored them. I knocked on their door. Nothing. I even used my broom to bang against our shared wall.
Still nothing.
I am so done.
I throw on an old sweater and my slippers before stomping down the hallway of my apartment complex, fully prepared to fight someone.
But when I open my door, I spot an old crumpled piece of paper on the floor.
I pick it up.
'sorry, practising late 2nite. hope u get your beauty sleep :) '
Beauty Sleep? Are we serious? What. An. Asshole.
I storm over to their door, Apartment 4B, and start pounding on the door.
"SHUT UP ALREADY. EVERY NIGHT YOU PLAY YOUR STUPID MUSIC, AND I'M SO DONE. GET YOUR STUPID ASSES OUT HERE RIGHT NOW,"
Their music stops halfway through my first sentence, and I swear I hear a faint chuckle coming from inside.
"Okay, okay! We get it! Give us a minute," one of them grunts.
I wait impatiently outside the door, my face hot from screaming.
The lock unclicks, and the deadbolt is removed. The door swings inwards, and an unfortunately hot guy steps out.
Like… unfairly hot.
My jaw drops for half a second before I recover.
He’s tall, somewhere around six foot, with bleached spiky hair and dark roots growing in underneath. Thick eyebrows. Smudged eyeliner. A goatee. He’s wearing a worn-out white The Cure shirt and baggy jeans hanging low enough for dark red boxers to peek out.
Holy shit.
It’s Chino freaking Moreno.
He notices my expression immediately and smirks.
Stupid, attractive asshole.
“How may I help you?” he asks way too politely.
I force myself to glare at him again.
“Can you PLEASE, for the love of God, stop playing music so late?” I snap. “Some people actually have lives. Just because you and your little band don’t have to wake up at the crack of dawn to work shitty café jobs to pay rent doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t.”
He somehow looks completely unfazed.
Actually, the smirk gets worse.
“Look, I’m sorry… what was your name again?”
“y/n.”
“Right. Sorry you have to work and whatever, but don’t you know who we are?”
He gestures back toward the apartment where his bandmates are taking shots and laughing.
“Yeah, actually, I do,” I say. “You’re the idiots keeping me awake every night.”
His eyebrows lift.
“I don’t care if you’re famous,” I continue. “Shut the fuck up.”
Then I turn around and storm back to my apartment, slamming the door behind me.
Stupid Deftones, they will pay.
~ chino ~
"I don't know who that y/n chick thinks she is, but she needs to calm down." Steph snickers.
“Still can’t believe she told us to shut the fuck up,” Abe laughs.
"I don't know, man. I think she knew who we are, too. She's got balls," I say
"We left her a note, isn't that nice enough?" Chi says.
"I dunno. Steph, did you write an essay begging for forgiveness?" I chuckled.
"Nahh, I wrote," Steph says as he dramatically clears his voice and pretends to open a scroll,
"Sorry, practising late tonight. Hope you get your beauty sleep. Then at the end I did a smiley face." He remarks.
Immediately, our faces drop. No wonder she was mad.
"You dipshit! You actually said beauty sleep!?" Abe screams.
"Uhhh…. yeah?" Steph looks uncomfortable.
"No wonder she's pissed! You sound like a bitch!" Abe screams yet again.
"Fuck! No wonder she was pissed! And Chino, why'd you HAVE to pull the famous card? You do this all the time, man. Someone has to say sorry, right?" Chi says.
Immediately, everyone's head turns to me.
"The fuck did I do?" I say confused.
"Come on, eye candy. Go say sorry," Abe says mockingly
I briefly roll my eyes and walk toward the door, flipping them off as I leave. I put on slippers, Steph's, I'm guessing, as they are a bit big, and begrudgingly go to Apartment 4A.
Knock Knock Knock
The locks click, and the old door creaks as she opens it.
"The fuck do you want?" y/n says angrily.
I look her up and down, examining her properly. She's shorter than I am, probably around 5'8. She's wearing the same old hoodie from before, grey with The Smiths written across the chest, and some plaid pyjama pants. Her hair is messily put up into a bun.
She stood up with her arms crossed. She looks up at me, her face scrunched because she's pissed. Reasonably so.
"Look, I'm sorry. I was a dick. Can you let me in? I won't stay long" I say as sweetly as I can.
She looks me up and down, narrowing her eyes before turning and walking back inside.
The smell of coffee and cigarettes hits me almost immediately.
Her apartment’s smaller than mine, cluttered in a way that somehow works. Books stacked on tables, clothes thrown over the couch, empty mugs sitting wherever there’s space. The TV’s still on, some old horror movie playing quietly in the background. But what catches my attention most are the posters covering the walls. Movies. Bands. Random shit everywhere. Star Wars. Alice in Chains. Korn. Scream.
Then my eyes land on something familiar.
Around the Fur.
Ah.
So she definitely knows who I am.
“You got five minutes,” she says flatly. “And that’s it.”