Vampire Next Door ⋆⟡⋆ Miguel O'Hara x reader

Ch. 1 New Girl *✩

One ... more ... box.

You carry the fifty pound box up the stairs, panting and motivating yourself under your breath. New apartment building, new area, unfamiliar faces, unfamiliar ... smells, but fresh start. You needed this. After your nightmare roommate from last school year, you need peace, quiet, solitude. Your sanity depends on it. Your own little world, free from shitty people, broken promises, betrayal, all of the hell that was last year.

One more set of stairs to go.

You hear footsteps from the stairwell below you, coming closer. You're sweaty, in sweatpants, and not at all ready to make a lasting first impression on your new neighbors. But they're getting closer.

"New girl,"

You turn around, to look up at the tall, handsome– Miguel O'Hara?

But you pretend you didn't know of his existence until now.

"That's me, and you are?" you breathe out.

"Miguel," he says, analyzing you and your box.

In a way, you're grateful you're meeting him now since being out of breath, a flushed face and sweaty shirt can all be attributed to this workout rather than how he makes you feel.

"Please, let me," he offers, holding his muscular arms out. You stop on one step, and turn to look at him, he's one step below you, but still much taller, looking down at you.

He's muscular, and so are you (you're ¼ his build), but you're also exhausted, so you allow it.

"Thanks," you mutter, offering a weak smile, fixing your hair after he so effortlessly lifted the box out of your arms.

You observe him. He looks different than he did two years back at Nueva York University: bigger, more muscular, more sure of himself, and more threatening? He was intimidating before, intimidating as in hot genius geneticist, but now he's intimidating hot shot Miguel O'Hara.

"You live on the fifth floor?" he asks, stopping at the landing.

"Yeah, and I'm guessing you do too?"

"Yeah, I do. What number are you?"

"501," you nod, smiling. You follow him down the hall.

He walks in front of you, nodding.

"I'm 502," he says, turning back to look at you, reading your face, before stopping in front of your place.

He smiles, his eyes on yours. You melt the way you did back then. Yep, he's still got it. You notice his eyes are different, the same beautiful brown, but with a new maroon tint to them. Almost inhuman. But the way he smiles, that's familiar. You get butterflies in your stomach, and feel everything all over again.

You knew him before Alchemax. You knew him when he was a less famous, all the same genius amongst NYU intellectuals. You remember admiring him from a distance. You sat outside of the library with Ash, and snuck glances at him over her shoulder, watching as he walked to class. You loved the way his dark brown wavy hair cascaded onto his face, the way he poked his glasses up, the way he rushed to class all while holding his school books, his motorcycle helmet, and pulling his lab coat over his compression shirt.

The autumn leaves fell gracefully all around him, like a scene straight out of a movie. He was picturesque, a piece of art, your hallway crush, unaware of your existence

and now right in front of you

... and he's your neighbor.