Not a Fan (Wilbur Soot)

Goodnight

"I'll see you upstairs, darling." Wilbur said with his face just barely still peeking around the bathroom door. He held onto the last glimpse of her rosy-cheeked smile before she pulled the shower curtain in front of her.

He stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The air felt colder now, compared to the steamy bathroom. Maybe that was just because he was half-soaked.

Wilbur walked through her apartment quickly and quietly, being mindful of their neighbors as he closed the heavy front door. The 606B written in faded copper, just below his eye level, almost made him laugh.

To think the first time he paid this door any mind, it was after he tripped on boxes full of someone else's life in his hallway. How the only real piece of evidence he had of the girl who moved in was a faint, 'sorry!' called out from somewhere inside. A voice that echoed from a home he assumed he'd never enter, but he now spends more time in than his own.

Wilbur gave an extra glance to the 608B nailed onto his own door, running his fingers along the copper numbers, as he entered the room.

There was a time, not very long ago, when he and Rori only communicated via sticky notes and swapping treats, listening to each other through the walls and going by cryptic nicknames.

Funny how he had gone from chocolate chip guy, to Wilbur, to Will Bee, to dear.

How she had gone from '-not a fan in 606B', to Rori, to Aurora, to darling.

Wilbur was sure he was sleeping on his feet as he swayed up each step to his room, grinning like a fool from just the thought of all the progress they had made.

He quickly changed out of his damp pajamas, discarding them carelessly onto the floor. He knew he'd be annoyed at himself tomorrow for not hanging up the essentially clean clothes, but alas, his mind was preoccupied with more important things.

Things like which side of the bed Rori likes to sleep on, or if she actually does sleep like a starfish. As he made his way back down the stairs, adjusting his new jumper, he thought about how he's going to smell the familiar rosy scent of her shampoo until he falls asleep.

Wilbur brushed his teeth, adjusting his hair in the mirror as he swished around his mouth wash. He quickly became lost in daydreams of toothpaste kisses and completing morning routines over a shared sink.

His feet dragged across the hardwood floor, as he made his way out of his apartment. He didn't quite feel ready to acknowledge the thoughts he was having about, how if it came down to it, whose flat would they choose.

He turned around to take in the sight of his somewhat-disheveled living room before leaving. There was no doubt that Rori had the better eye for interior design between them, but Wilbur was partial to keeping his flat, since he enjoyed having two walls of windows. He didn't let himself indulge in that thought for too long, heading back into the hall instead.

It almost felt rude to invite himself back into her flat, but he figured it would be more rude to their neighbors if he chose to knock.

Wilbur stepped inside, closing the door just as carefully behind him. Before he even turned around, he felt like he was paralyzed in place, unable to move an inch, once the muffled sound of the shower stream stopped.

Without the rushing white noise of the water, he could hear Rori humming, her voice just barely audible through the door. The acoustics of the apartment were doing their best to carry her voice to him, sending sound waves directly to his heart.

He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against her front door, a smile growing on his face, when he recognized the song. It was a song she had sung to him before, a song that had a completely changed meaning since he heard her rendition of it.