apartment 17 || xxxtentacion

i

"shit, im late", i mumbled as i pushed though the door to room 113 journalism at FAMU. i managed to slide past the other students and into my seat before the professor noticed my rather rude entrance.

"okay class, i hope you had a nice weekend, but as we all know monday has returned once again. back to the daily grind". some of the basic and corniest words ever spoken by a college professor. this was the quality of teaching i was inevitably going to be paying off for the rest of my life. i should have just stayed in bed.

i completely zoned out the professor's droning voice. i swear he went through the same speech every monday. opening up my bag, i grabbed my notebook and placed it on my desk. i looked up at the clock, mumbling, "only 2:45, fucking shit". before i knew it, my brain had completely clocked out ; thinking about anything and everything besides journalism.

"cynthia!" i was rudely snapped out of my daze when the professor yelled my name from the front of the room. i could feel the eyes of the other students within the room turn towards me as i sat there, looking like a deer in headlights. i replied "yes?", to which he responded, "staring at the clock is not going to make this class go any faster miss cynthia." i mumbled a quick "sorry sir" and proceeded to vaguely listen to the lecture.

after class, i felt completely exhausted. i briskly walked back to my apartment and made a mental plan to take a nap. the walk took about 20 minutes but the weather was so nice so i didn't mind at all. one of the many perks of living in florida, it was almost always warm enough to walk home. sometimes, i enjoyed just spending time with myself and not having to worry about anyone else. i never was one to be super extroverted. i loved my personal space. i arrived at my apartment and quickly unlocked it. i shut the door, put my bags down, and then proceeded to lay down on the sofa, propping my feet up on the arm. i scrolled through my phone, casually liking a few videos on tiktok from people i barely talk to from high school. i decided that i had enough of the monotonous scrolling of social media for now. looking up at my ceiling, i suddenly felt a wave of extreme exhaustion flood over me. taking this as a sign that i desperately needed rest, i shut my eyes and allowed sleep to consume my body.

it was 10:00 pm. my sleep, although it lasted much longer than intended, was rudely interrupted by blaring music coming from across the hall i rubbed my eyes slowly, trying to adjust to the light, and huffed to myself.

"lord have mercy"

i stood up and walked to my door, ready to practically kill the person who interrupted my sleep. i hastily unlocked my door and stomped across the hall to the room directly across from mine: apartment 17. i had never spoken to whoever lived in this apartment. hell, i don't even think i ever saw them. i had heard around campus that the people who lived there often threw wild parties that lasted late into the night. at night, you could vaguely smell the scent of weed if you were walking through the hall and sometimes you would be oh so lucky enough to see a girl walk out the door with barely any clothing on and completely wasted. despite this, i never got to see the culprits but those few instances with mystery girls gave me a good enough idea of what they were like. i stepped up to the door and hit the door with my fist three times; the noise piercing through the bass of the song blaring from behind the door.

no response. the music seemed to be even louder than than before.

i did it again and made sure to hit it even harder. i was pissed. about 15 seconds later, i saw the door knob turn slowly. the door creaked and opened slightly. a bit of smoke began wafting out and i heard a male voice yell, "one minute". a few seconds later, the guy stepped outside of his room and quickly shut the door behind him. he was about 5'7, he wore ripped black jeans, and an orange sweatshirt, and completely reeked of weed. his hair was black on one side and blonde on the other and he had dreads. he held a bottle of tequila in his hand; he was clearly very drunk.

"wassup, shorty?" he asked. he had a very floridian accent.

"your music? thats "wassup". its way too loud and you completely ruined my sleep." i state harshly. i was not having this

"oh come on, have some fun," he slurred as he walked over to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "you know you want to" i slipped out from his arm and turned around towards him, "no turn down the music. now."

"fine fine, whatever. it was getting boring anyways. you're feisty. i kinda like it" he winked at me before he walked back into his apartment. the music was promptly shut off. he stepped back out a minute later, "there ya go". i thanked him and then walked back into my apartment, refusing to make more conversation with him

i strolled into my bedroom and plopped down on my bed. i pondered on the events that had just occurred. he definitely wasn't anything that i had expected; part of me expected some crazy "stoner hippy" esque guy to step out of the door, bong in hand. in fact, he wasn't that bad looking.

call me crazy but for some reason i wasnt able to stop thinking about the dread head from apartment 17. i fell asleep that night with the thought of him and his smoke filling my head.