Fics like his walls are fluoro yellow

Oscar doesn't know what to feel about the guy. He's a mystery, an enigma, an idiosyncrasy to be studied. He knows next to nothing about the neighbour of his, apart from the fact that he, like Oscar, lives on the fourth floor. Here's what Oscar does know about the guy: He spends his mornings fighting to tame his curls, filling Oscar with the irrational, overwhelming urge to tear those rough hands away and run his own fingers through the hair to see if it's as soft as it looks. He works out on the balcony, shirtless, like an asshole. He chugs vodka straight from a bottle, likely with a one-way wish ticket to liver disease. He's the most inconsiderate neighbour in the whole building, blasting twangy country music from his speakers at three in the morning. Or maybe he's been living in a cave for most of his life and has never seen or heard of headphones. Who is Oscar to judge? Maybe he should get him a pair as a belated housewarming gift. Lastly, his walls are fluorescent yellow. Which. Is a choice. Oscar is forever going to associate that colour with the man now.

Fics like his walls are fluoro yellow

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