Guido Mista : The Weirdo on Fourth Floor

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I'm sorry but Number Five deserves all the love and protection. Mista treats them so well despite almost dying goddamn that episode D:

Have some slightly sad shit.

Only your apartment could get held up. You never imagined you'd be trapped in a building with some creepy serial killer. No information had been passed for the last hour, but the place was swarming with police. Unable to leave for fear of being hurt, there was no choice but to stay put. You'd been trying to move in with your boyfriend since forever, but the landlord was a complete prick and wouldn't let you get out of your contract, so you were left to live in a dangerous part of the neighbourhood. Mista had begged you to live at his house until something was settled, but you were being charged to live in your studio apartment, so he had essentially moved himself in here instead. Rooms were covered in half of his wardrobe now, pens finding their way inside cabinets, an extra toothbrush and men's products building up inside the shower. Guido was on a mission, possibly gone for a fair few days. You tried not to contact him when he was gone, absolutely certain it would put him off his priorities.

Hugging your dressing down closer to you, it hung off your trembling frame. Was he here, he would have made smutty comments about it, the thought bringing a smile to your lips. Approaching the kitchen window, the city outside looked lovely usually, calm and serene when it wasn't swallowed in blue lights. Sighing, there was a funny noise coming through from the living room which broke your mindless gazing. What you thought was miniscule scratching at first turned into the sound of a door handle rattling. Going into the room to investigate, you found that the door was shaking in its frame, somebody trying to get in. There had been no knock, so you assumed it was somebody who didn't live here, nor a police officer. Stumbling backwards into the arm of the sofa, you remained there for a moment, thinking what to do. There had been no voices or anything like that, so your first thought was that it was the serial killer, coming to get you. Sweating soaked your palms, clutching at your dressing gown as you considered what to do. Eyes glanced round, searching for something, anything to pick up and throw at the door. Though heavy and bulky, you'd do anything to scare the intruder away, so you took the lamp from the table. Clinging to it, it was going to be difficult to let go, but anxiety had to sit on the back burner for a moment. Aiming for the floor, you were about to wait for your front door to open when something golden came through the slit in between the plank and the floor. It seemed to squeak as it saw you, the scream leaving your throat an alarm to the person on the other side. Launching the accessory, the door actually snapped and blasted a hole inside it.
Beneath the gaping hole, a head popped through, patterns recognisable in your shock.
"Babe, are you alright? We got him, he's--"
Water filled your eyes, realisation sinking in as to what you had done. Sobbing incoherently, you leaped to the scene of the damage, combing through pieces of wood and glass to locate your beloved bullet.
"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!" you repeated, voice wavering with every phrase. The Italian was confused, glancing down at the mess on the floor. Dropping to his knees, he tried to stop you with his hands despite you shaking him off. "Is he alright?!"
"What are you talking about, is who alright?" You didn't answer, continuing your search party. Mista gripped your chin with his fingers, tilting it upwards. "Hey, look at me."
"No," you refused, sniffing loudly. "I panicked and threw the lamp because I thought it was that weirdo on the fourth floor--!"
"Y/N, babe, calm down. That creep is long gone. We put him in a police van about half an hour ago."
"No, you don't understand. I think I squished Number 5!"
"But he's-"
A faint, inconsolable crying cut him off from the tiny wreckage. Digging through it, your miniscule mite was cowering beneath it all, skeleton stepping out from fright.
"Oh, Number Five! There you are! I'm so sorry!!" Picking him up in your hands, you let him sit on the pads of one of your fingers, rubbing his head with your other one. Mista stared at him in concern, assuming he wasn't injured since his body was fine.
"Are you angry at me, Y/N?" the timid little voice gulped.
"No! No, not at all! I thought you were someone else," you cried, tone turning aggressive in your next sentence. "Because Guido obviously left his keys!" The baby understood, asking for kissing access to your cheek in order to accept the apology. "I could never be angry at you guys, you do so much for us." Breathing a sigh of relief, you jumped a little when Mista's warm hand touched the area between your shoulder blades, rubbing it up and down.
"What happened Number Five, I thought you were picking the lock with the others."
"You tried picking the lock?!" you snapped, visualising your landlord's face. "Oh, God."
"He might let you out now, you can live at my place finally. We can be like... A proper family."

The waterworks started, your heart beating out of your chest in the moment with relief and anxiety. Wailing through his name, he chuckled a little, pulling you close into a protective cuddle and pressing kisses to your head, which was buried into his jumper. Telling you he loved you deeply wasn't going to get him out of the broken door, but boy was the landlord going to receive Hell tomorrow from Mista himself for causing this unrest.

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