Thats Not my Neighbor. (Francis x y/n 1st person)

Well, I do Need a Job...

(ALL CHARACTERS BESIDES THE STORY THE POV IS WRITTEN IN ARE NOT OWNED BY ME!!! CHECK OUT 'THAT'S NOT MY NEIGHBOR' FOR ALL CHARACTERS 🙂)

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I've lived in this apartment for several months. It's the same old schedule every day. I mostly stay inside, keep to myself, especially with the doppelgängers becoming more difficult to distinguish between them and humans. I constantly hear stories on my radio about children and adults alike being taken out of their homes or kidnapped off the streets, never to be seen again. Fortunately for me, my house is my safe spot. I don't even know who my neighbors are. I live alone, I thrive in my own solitary company.

I lay on my old leather couch, lost in the story of a book I have grasped in my hands. Despite being here all these months alone, I do find ways to entertain myself. Although, I have only been surviving off of my late father's funds. I have to get a job soon, or i'll be forced to the streets. Being on the roads where there is monsters seems much more cruel then finding somewhere to work. Eh, i'll get to it later.

I get bored of my book and set it down on a brown coffee table next to the sofa. I stare straight at my television and softly sigh. I wish it still worked, i've just been too afraid to really leave my house to get it fixed. Only person i've talked to this whole time has to be the milk man, and I don't think he can fix my TV. He seems nice. He's very introverted, he always refuses to make eye contact with me. I don't mind it though, as I, myself can barely talk to anyone as it is.

I check the time and look up towards the beaten old clock. Everything in my house is old. It's around 5PM. I get up off of my couch and stretch my previously asleep muscles. I make a slight whining sound as my arms strain over my head. It's around dinner time. I'll grab something out of my fridge.

I head over to the kitchen on my left. It's small, but livable and cozy. I put my head down and look into my fridge. I have to go shopping soon. That means seeing strange things and peculiar people. I'll get it done tomorrow.

The fridge is mostly empty, but the thing that catches my eye are a few glass bottles of milk and some red apples. 'That's my dinner for the day," I say to myself. I reach my arm into the sudden cool temperature of the refrigerator and grab ahold of the glass. I pull it out and my fingerprints are stamped onto the bottle from the condensation.

As i'm reaching for the fruit portion, I hear a knock on my door. I abandon my previous action and whip my head towards the door.  My eyes lock onto the calendar next to it. It's not the milkman's day. No one else even knows me, who could it be? I cautiously approach my door, but with a hint of curiosity. I go on my tippy toes and peer out of the peephole. Some guy in a hazmat suit — an outfit i've seen before — stands outside of my door. Did I do something? Did I skip on my rent?

I slowly open my door. The suited man is real — real and infront of me. I've never been able to tell if there is a really fat man under it, or if it's the suit itself that is larger than life. He's a good bit taller and wider than me. He speaks in a deep yet nasally voice.

"Y/n L/n, correct?"

"...Yes, that's me. What do ...you need?" I hesitate. I haven't talked to really anyone in a while. I need practice.

"We are giving out a job offer, no interview needed." He shoves a pamphlet into my face and I gently grab it. In bold, black letters the job is described and titled. It reads:

Apartment Building 664: Security Window

Work at the security window and protect the apartment building from doppelgängers.

Pay: 5$ per hour.

D.D.D

Damn, that's good. 5$ is great in this economy. But doppelgängers? Nuh uh.