KEEP A PLACE FOR ME // Wilbur Soot X Reader

4

And that was the end of it for a while.

You assumed that Oscar had said something to the guy, because for about a week after you had visited him there was no screaming or shouting or strange moaning. It was quiet. It was peaceful. It was great.

You didn't have to worry about screaming in the background of your interview calls, and you finally had a quiet space to write. Without the constant distraction, you sped through your work.

You were berating yourself for not saying something to Oscar sooner. This was bliss, it was paradise, it was -

A loud moan echoed through the walls of your office.

You groaned, and pressed your forehead into your keyboard, sending a splash of letters across the end of the sentence you had been typing. And it had been going so well.

You could hear him over there, shouting something. The wall between you muffled the words, but it was annoying nonetheless. The snatches of sentences were probably more annoying than anything clear would have been.

You picked up your head from your desk. You didn't want to have to go to Oscar again so soon - yes, he had said that you could drop in whenever you wanted, but it felt a little ridiculous, seeing him again for the same problem not a week later.

You thought back to the original advice Jazzy and Maddy had given you. Maybe it was time to take maters into your own hands...

So much for your first impression.

You got up from your chair and saved the progress you had made in the article - your computer had a nasty habit of shutting off whenever you left the room - and marched out of your office.

Your neighbors door was only a few feet down the hall. You stopped in front of it, taking a breath before rapping your knuckles on the wood.

You would just ask him to quiet down politely. And hopefully, he would. You wouldn't yell unless he did, and you would only go to Oscar again if he brushed you off-

The door opened, and you were faced with a young man about your age. He filled the whole doorframe with his height, though he was kind of lanky looking. A few brown fluffy curls stuck out from underneath his beanie, and he wore glasses, looking down at you.

"Oh, you are rather tall." You said, the words slipping out of you before you could stop yourself. You clamped your mouth shut before the rest of the thought could slip out as well - he was rather fit, too.

He blinked quizzically. "Um, sorry?"

You regathered yourself quickly. You were there on business, not to oogle over the honey brown of his eyes or the way he pulled at the neck of his sweater. "I can hear you in the next room over." You said sternly. "And I really am trying to work. Would you mind quieting down?"

"Oh." He glanced behind him for a moment, back into his office. You couldn't see around him much, but the place looked rather empty, except for a large computer setup on the desk. "Yeah, sorry."

"What are you even doing?" You asked. "I've never heard of an office job that requires you to be so loud."

He grinned sheepishly. "It's a bit complicated."

Of course it was complicated. It was probably something odd, like voice acting or narration or something. Or maybe he had a podcast. He looked like the sort of fellow who might have a podcast.

You narrowed your eyes, looking up at him. "Fine. Just quiet down please."

He nodded. "Sorry."

You gave him one last look over before you turned on your heel and returned to your own space. You could feel his eyes on your back as you left, and you were sure you were going bright red. You hadn't expected him to be like that. You had been expecting some balding middle aged man, not him.

You hadn't been prepared, not at all.

You plopped down in your chair to see that your computer had turned off while you left. You sighed, turning the thing on again and watching as it rumbled to life. At least you had saved your work.

As you waited, you kept a keen ear for any noise coming from your neighbors walls, but nothing did. It seemed he would heed you then, which was good. You didn't want to have to go to Oscar and tell him your neighbor was rude as well as noisy.

You just hadn't thought he would be so tall.

He looked like the kind of person that belonged in a coffee shop rather than an office building - what with his cable knit sweater and his beanie and his large round glasses. You could picture him reading a book with a latte in hand, sitting at a bar next to a window. He would be reading Plato or Homer or some other classic literature, and he would readjust his glasses on the bridge of his nose every so often when they began to slide off. He didn't look like he belonged here.

If you had seen him in a coffee shop, you probably would have hit on him. At least a little. With people like that, you were almost obligated to hit on them. It should have been illegal not to.

It should have been illegal to look like that and work in an office.

But no, you were at work, and he was your noisy neighbor. There would be no hitting on him here.

Your computer started up again and you got back to work, opening your notes and the article you had been working on side by side so that you wouldn't have to click back and forth as you wrote. You kept expecting there to be more noises, but your neighbor kept quiet, and you kept thinking about the tuft of curls that stuck out from under his beanie.