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

The Fear Of Burdening Another.

We're out in the hallway, retracing my steps. This one of the rare occasions where the smell doesn't bother me. I'm too worried about the key. Isn't it so silly how such a little object has such an enormous effect on my life? How will I get to my clothes? My music, or what if I let out food and it's going to rot if I can't get in my room?

"Did you feel it fall out?" He asks, bringing me out of my clouded mind. He towers over me and he leans down to make out what emotion is showing on my face.

"I don't... remember it falling out?" I question myself. Did I? Did it fall out this morning or... did it?

He sighs and places his hands on his waist. "Mmm, hey, worst case scenario, we can get you another one made at the secretary office. You ...do know where that is, right?"

"Uhm, no." I scratch the back of my head and look up at him to meet his sleep deprived eyes. He moves his tongue around in his mouth and sighs.

"We'll look for it for a few more minutes, then we can just make you another, okay?" He gives me a friendly pat on the back and continues searching for the metal key. A friendly pat on the back. Bro.

We continue down the hallway, passing my room and meeting the stairwell. No obvious sight of it. There wouldn't be any hidden spot because the halls are simply made and don't have any crevices in the floors.

Opening the doors to the stairwell, we keep our heads glued down like helicopters circling over a crime scene.

I couldn't help but feel a small part of me — a small, romantically diminished part of me, feels happy. More so, proud of myself. If I can't get into my room, I would have to crash with him. And I swept that feeling away with guilt, I mean, i'd be burdening him. Did I drop it intentionally? No. Did I maybe subconsciously drop it for this exact reason? I don't even know.

"Y/n, I don't see it." He tells me again. He seems to be rushing this, like he really wants me to stay over.

I give up. At least i'll be staying with someone I trust, right?

"Yeah, let's just go ask for a new key to be made." I say. He nods and we go down the steps. I walk slow like a little kid who's being dragged along by her mother. I've never lost my key. I'm usually so careful about those type of things.

At the bottom of the steps he notices my solemn mood and sighs, "You'll be fine, Y/n. We'll ask for a new key to be made and we'll see from there, okay?"  He raises his eyebrows and I agree.

"Where even is the secretary office? I've never been, or I just don't remember." I ask.

"Uh, just follow me. I'm not good at explaining directions." He grabs ahold of my hand and I trail behind him. He grabs onto my hand. Are you guys hearing this? He is holding my hand. Maybe not romantically but the action of holding my hand is taking place.

We walk into the lobby and past the mailboxes, down into a hallway i've never taken time to notice before. There's a small, almost unreadable sign above the arch to the hallway that says 'secretary office'. If I didn't know any better, I would think that this place was meant to be hidden and out of sight.

The hall doesn't smell as bad, but there's still that slight odor. The hallway is dramatically long, but there are a few doors to other places like more offices and security rooms, but for surveillance. The walls are lined with peeling magenta wall paper that needs to be replaced soon.

At the very end of the long room is the door to the secretary and it's wide open, clearly for invitation. A frail woman sits in a chair too large for her frame and with a matching desk to accompany it. She has on a low cut dress that isn't showing off much of anything, and her peach colored face is scattered with freckles matching her strawberry blonde hair.