Apartment 10A

The first time I meet Alan Ashby he's sitting atop one of the dryers in the basement of my building, he's in a pair of sweatpants and he's shirtless, showing off his tattoos. His ginger hair is everywhere like a wild mane and he's got this oversized headphones obscuring his ears. He doesn't hear me come in, and it's not until i'm shoving my dirty laundry into the aging washing machines that he notices me, saying an obnoxiously loud "hey", over the sound of his music. By the time i'd turned around to smile at him with my washing basket in hand he's pushing his headphones down around his neck, messing with his hair.
"Would it be rude of me to ask you to watch my stuff for like, five minutes, i've gotta piss so bad man."
"Go, go, go." I shoo him and he gives me a big, toothy grin that practically has me weak at the knees as I take up residence on the dryer next to him. I was kind of in love with his smile and his crazy hair and the stupid fucking tattoo right in the center of his chest before I could even stop myself.
As he walked away, I noticed the 'bootylicious' written across the bum of his sweatpants.

By the time he gets back, bootylicious ass and all, his washing has finished and he's dropping to his knees in front of the machine as he thanks me. His bright mood fades fast however, a look of absolute destain falling on his features as he pulls his washing out, and it almost looks like he's about to cry, his eyes wide as he holds up one of his t-shirts, now tinted pink.
"What happened?" He asks, and I don't know if he's talking to me or himself, but I can't help but stifle a giggle, and it makes his big eyes land on me, as if I hold all the answers, his lower lip between his teeth.
"You aren't supposed to wash reds and whites together." I tell him and he drops the now ruined shirt and stabs at the offending red towel in his washing basket.
"You have betrayed me, fluffy red towel." He says with a huff, before he shoves them all into the dryer aggressively and then plops back down in his previous position, arms now folded over his chest. I had thought he was cute enough as it was.
"Have you ever done your own washing before?"
"Am I being obvious?"
"Just a bit."
"Just moved out of my exes place a few weeks ago, he always did my washing with his, and before that it was my parent's job. I'm hopeless." He tells me and okay, I know I was getting way ahead of myself but the mention of a previous boyfriend has me grinning internally, dreaming up all the ways that I could make him mine.
"Well, you made the biggest mistake, it can only get better from here."
"I guess i'll just have a few more painting shirts now."
"You're an artist?" I ask in wonder.
"Aspiring."
"Are you just being modest?"
"No."
"Is your apartment full of paintings and paint palettes and overflowing sketchbooks?"
"Maybe."

That night I stay up too late on Skype telling my dad about the cute artist who can't do his washing, and my dad tells me how nice it is to see me smile again.

--

The next time I see him, he's doing his laundry in a tiger onesie. There's a sketchpad open in his lap and he's got his big headphones on again. I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face as I see him, and i'm not sure if it's the outfit, or the concentration on his face, or the fact that after weeks of thinking about him and hoping i'd run into him I was finally seeing him again, but it made me so happy.
"Hey, tiger." I say once he's noticed me and pushed his headphones off his ears. He pokes his tongue out at me in response, scrunching his nose up in this way that makes him look beyond adorable.
"It's Alan Ashby, 10A."
"Austin Carlile." I tell him and it takes me until he's already gone to realize that 10A is his apartment number, and then I sort of feel like a dick for not telling him my own apartment, even if the likelihood of him needing such a piece of information was slim to none, so I bake him a batch of chocolate chip cookies and leave them at his door, knocking and doing a runner.
And okay, so while I was waiting for the cookies to bake I may have used said cookies as an excuse to lean over my balcony and look down to his apartment to see if he was home, because I am the creepiest person ever. I almost had a heart attack when I realized he was leaning on the ledge, cigarette at his lips and eyes closed, still in the tiger onesie, but this time there's a streak of paint on his cheek. He looks like he's in total bliss and I almost burn the cookies watching him.

--

The first time I see him outside of the little room full of noisy machines is the next day in the elevator, and he's in what I assume is his normal attire, and of course he's got his headphones on as he always does.
"You come here often?" He says and I realize he's got one of my cookies half eaten in his hand, and I didn't think a piece of baked goods could ever make me blush, but it definitely does.
"Just passing through on business." I joke and he nods his head as he licks the corners of his mouth free of crumbs, and makes me want to kind of just kiss him or jump his bones or give him a really big hug or something, anything.
"Thanks for the cookies by the way, you are a chocolate chip genius." The way he says it, and his choice of words makes my heart want to rip itself out of my chest and just hand itself over to him. Of course he would know the cookies were from me, and I sort of feel stupid for doing a runner now, but he doesn't seem phased, smiling and munching away as we stand comfortably next to one another.

And then it turns out, as we walk out of the building side by side, that we are headed in the same direction, and I feel like somehow I am invading in on him, but I don't really know what to do about the situation, and then he starts chattering on, and I think maybe he doesn't even mind my company.
"So, i've got this meeting with a potential client, and he calls me to ask if I can be there in half an hour. Like hello, I live on the opposite side of the city, not all of us are living the high life in big houses in the hills here, man. I told him I could anyway, because it's not often I get people actually wanting to buy any of my work, so now i've gotta hope I can get the most insane cab driver in the city." He tells me in a rush as he comes to an abrupt stop as a cab comes down the street. I kind of stop with him, and I don't know if I should because it's not like we were actually walking together, but then we were having a conversation so I would feel pretty rude just walking off.
"Good luck, Alan." I tell him, ready to head off when he grabs my wrist.
"Where are you headed, Aust? If i'm paying a ridiculous fair for the cab may as well drop you off on the way." I tell him that i'm going to band practice, and that it's really not too far away, that I was just going to walk, but that doesn't suffice for him and he's dragging me into the backseat of the cab. I want to melt into his touch, and the nickname he gave me, and everything about him. I end up half landing on him as he tells the driver where to go and wow okay, Alan is kind of the most perfect human being.
"You're in a band? That's fantastic, what kind of music do you guys play?" He asks and even though we're seating now he's still kind of hyper and I wonder if it's because of adrenaline or the cookies.
"Hardcore, I guess."
"Please tell me you do vocals?"
"I do." He lets out this moan from the back of his throat and it sends a jolt down my body and right to my dick. Jesus Christ, did he have any clue what he did to me?
"You've gotta show me some of your music, yeah?" I nod with a soft smile as we pull up to the curb outside my band mates house.
"Thanks for the ride, Alan. I hope your meeting goes well."
"No problem, home slice, i'll see you later." Then he leans over as I climb out, placing a light kiss on my cheek, as if it's something completely ordinary, and before I even have time to react he's gone and i'm standing on the sidewalk in shock.

"I think i'm in love." I tell my band mates when I walk in, and they all raise their eyebrows at me, because it wasn't often that I actually liked someone. My friends loved to make a joke out of my lack of any real relationship or sexual experience. It was an over exaggeration, I have had sex before. It had just been when I was beyond drunk, and okay so maybe I barely remembered it. I'm a pretty poor excuse for a man, if i'm being honest.
"So, you're in love, with who exactly?" Tino asks me expectantly.
"Alan Ashby."
"And he would be?"
"A boy in my building." I tell them and maybe it hadn't been a good idea to confess my little crush to my friends, because they spend the rest of our band practice making jokes about it, and asking when they are going to get to meet my new husband. Sometimes I question why I am even friends with them.

It takes me all of two hours of being home before I go and see him, because I had done some more baking for him, double chocolate brownies this time, and maybe also because I have no self control when it comes to cute gingers.
When he opens his door though, after I spend five minutes standing outside it, freaking out, his eyes are red-rimmed and he just generally looks very, very sad.
"A–are you okay?" I ask, suddenly feeling like maybe I should have just done a knock and run again.
"Been better." He says as he eyes up the plastic container in my hand. "Are those brownies?"
"Yeah, double chocolate, I made them for you but um, should I go?"
"No, no. Do you wanna come in?" I nod despite my better judgement, but this is Alan, and he's inviting me into his apartment, and he looks so sad, how could I say no?
"You don't have to tell me but are you sure you're okay, what happened?" I ask as I try and take in every little bit of his apartment. It's the exact same layout as mine, except Alan's feels so much like home that it makes me never want to leave, just curl up on the small couch in the corner and fall asleep. He's got art all over the walls, and I don't know if it's his own work or not but I love it anyway, and it was a lot tidier than I had expected, but there is still a few paint palettes sitting in the sink.
"It's nothing really, just my shitty ex-boyfriend is all, showing up and telling me all this shit about how he still loves me."
"Do you still love him?" I regret asking it even as it's still leaving my lips, because I don't really want to know the answer, and because I don't want to hurt Alan, but it's already too late to take it back.
"I–I don't think so." He says, and then as if he completely forgets the sad mood he was in only seconds previously, he smiles wide. "No, actually, I don't."
He takes the container from my hands as he tells me I can sit, obviously wanting to change the subject, quick to stuff a brownie in his mouth.
"Mmm." He groans, eyes falling closed for a second in ecstasy as he falls down on the tiny couch next to me and wow, we were really close, the sides of our bodies touching, sending warmth throughout my body.
"How did your meeting go?"
"Amazing! He's buying three of my pieces." He says, and he grabs my arm in excitement and i'm sort of in heaven.
"That's amazing, Alan, i'm really happy for you. So, is all this your work?" I ask, gesturing to the work on the walls and he nods, a pink tint blossoming on his cheeks. Knowing it's his work, I inspect in more carefully, and I wouldn't expect anything less than perfection from Alan Ashby. Some of them are simple pencil portraits, but they're absolutely stunning none the less, and it looked like he did a lot of water colors.
"Fuck, Alan, you're kind of, really amazing. You know that, right?"
That's how I end up making out with a certain, extremely cute ginger boy on his couch.
He puts down his half-eaten brownie on the coffee table and suddenly he's leaning into my side, pressing his lips to mine and he tastes slightly of cigarettes, and I don't even mind because he's Alan, and I can still taste the chocolate too and everything about it is mind-blowing. And maybe I shouldn't be doing this with someone I barely know, and who just got out of a relationship, but then he moans into my mouth and it's the sexist thing ever and I couldn't stop myself even if I wanted to. It doesn't go further than a kiss but it doesn't need to, it's perfect the way it is.

"So," Alan says after awhile. "we should do more of that."

--

It doesn't take long before Alan and I become inseparable, spending late nights together on his couch, or mine watching movies, or going out on cheesy dates, or playing 20 questions while we do our washing. Also, there's a lot of making out. It never goes further and we don't exactly talk about what we're doing, but just knowing that whatever it is, it's with this perfect boy who likes to cuddle in his sleep and turns up at my apartment in the middle of the day to make pancakes, and that's all that I care about.

When Alan greets me with a peck on the lips as he opens the door instantly I can tell something is up, but he's quick to brush it off, telling me he's fine. He's not though, he's less talkative than normal and he's being fidgety. I grab his hand, intertwining our fingers and forcing him to look at me as we fall onto the couch like we always do in our comfortable routine of the last few weeks.
"What's wrong? C'mon Alan, please talk to me."
"Nothing. I just– um– can I paint you, Aust?" He asks, his eyes instantly falling down to our links fingers in nervousness and I have to laugh.
"It's that what you've been so nervous about?" He instantly looks up, eyes wide and it kind of reminds me of the first time we met, all innocent and cute. Except this time he punches my arm, telling me not to laugh at him.
"It's just that, of course i'd let you paint me, I love your art."
"Really?"
"Yeah, really, you're just being silly." He kiss me again then, and it's so much more than what i'm used to, feels so much more passionate that everything inside me just comes undone at his touch as we rut against one another on the couch until our hands are around one another and we're both coming onto our stomaches and i'm letting out a content sigh of his name.

Alan is standing out on the balcony having a smoke as I make us post-hand job toast and I realize he's talking to someone. And from the angle he's standing at, it looks awfully like he's talking to someone in my apartment, the floor above to the right. I leave the half buttered toast on the counter and step out onto the balcony, squinting up at Tino, Phil and Aaron who are all leaning over my balcony chatting to Alan. I feel Alan's hand on my lower back as I stare at them, a mischievous grin on all of their faces.
"Hey Austin."
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Just having a little chat to Alan here."
"What exactly are you doing in my apartment? And how did you get in there in the first place?"
"Oh, we just thought we'd stop by to come and meet your new lover boy, but you weren't here so I just used my key."
"Your key?" I can feel Alan laughing against my side at my annoyed tone, and he presses his fingers into my skin to comfort me but it doesn't stop me from glaring daggers at them.
"Oh yeah, i've had it for years." Phil tells me and I huff and give up, going back inside and leaving my shits of friends to continue to chat with Alan as I sit on his couch eating cold toast.
When Alan finally gets back inside and steals the toast that's in my hand he's grinning like a madman.
"What?" I ask him as he sits down, letting his legs fall comfortably over me.
"Your friends are great."
"They suck."
"Well, they're coming down for pizza." I glare at him, but then he kisses he quickly and I forget all about being annoyed at anybody. It kind of seems strange how we act together, like we fitted so perfectly together that everything came naturally, and even if we were still learning about one another Alan still held my heart in the palm of his hand without even knowing it.
He goes to answer the door to my asshole friends but as I get up I stop him, grabbing his wrist and he turns around to look at me in confusion. My mind goes blank for a second as I stare at his sparkling eyes, but he looks so perfect with his lip between his teeth and his hair still kind of messy from when we fooled around earlier that I just want to tell him that I love him.
"Be mine?" I say instead, because it's the closest thing i've got because I fell too hard and too fast and I didn't want to scare him away. A grin breaks out onto his face as the knocking continues to get louder, but he doesn't seem to care any more than I do as he leans back into me, pressing his lips forcefully against mine, still grinning.
"Already was."