What do you even wear to a Sunday barbeque? I think to myself as I stare hopelessly at my closet.
All of my outfits are categorized in extremes with my only options being my daytime uniform or comfortable sleepwear for my days off. Nothing fits the mold of "casual Sunday lunch with co-workers". I don't want to appear overdressed or appear ungrateful for their invitation.
Unfortunately, I don't have some chaotic, extraverted best friend to help me create or let me borrow an outfit for the day. I don't have a group of giggly friends to help me with my makeup or attempt to meddle in my love affairs by texting me embarrassingly sweet pick-up lines to test on Hobi.
I am on my own.
I turn from my pathetic closet and fall back onto my unmade bed. I grab one of my large stuffed animals from the edge of the bed and hug it close to my chest. I stare up at the popcorn ceiling with a blank expression, basking in the darkness of my apartment.
It's so quiet here.
It's a small apartment filled with most of the basic essentials. It also has a small bathroom with a shower, a newly installed air conditioning unit, a laundry room on the basement level, and a functional kitchen. The cabinets might be empty but most of my baking experiments happen at the cafe.
I feel a pang of sadness as I think about how I am not going to be able to continue with my extravagant cakes or desserts. All of these treats require sophisticated equipment I don't have the money to buy. My oven's heat system is off-balanced and ends up burning my edges every time and my hand mixer is slowly dying from years of use.
Losing my job is parallel to losing my hobbies, and I hate how I am helpless against it.
I am grateful to have a new job, however, I know it won't be like the cafe.
It's going to be okay, this is going to be good for me, I think to myself, lying in the dark.
I am such a terrible liar.
I sit up from the bed and check my phone again. It is still too early to get dressed for the barbeque at Hobi and his friends' house. But it isn't too early to eat my Lucky Charms.
I stand up from my bed and walk out of my small bedroom. I enter my kitchen and flick on a light, illuminating the glossy wooden cabinets and faint dust on the counters. I grab my half-empty box of cereal and a clean bowl. I hum softly to myself as I make my breakfast, losing myself to my thoughts for a moment.
I wonder how today will end. I hope I don't make things awkward, it's been so long since I've hung out with... friends.
I know I sound like a hermit but in truth, I am a shut-in compared to my peers.
To some, this lifestyle might appear pathetic and depressing yet I didn't have an issue with it until recently. I was perfectly happy living in isolated bliss until I met Hobi. Maybe it was him that started this spark, this yearning for a life beyond the walls of my home.
A life with... somebody else.
I shake my head, dismissing such wishful thinking. That sounds so cheesy. Why am I acting like this?
I move to the corner of the kitchen and pull out my small espresso machine that I bought during a Black Friday. I open up my coffee cabinet and scan over my two bags of coffee grounds before choosing the stronger of the two. I also grab my milk steamer which is a small metal pot with little holes in the lid. I prepare myself a flat white which is a drink that consists of espresso and steamed milk. It's a simple drink but it gives me the burst of energy I need to face the day.
With practiced movements, I make my drink with complete ease. I hum louder to myself and notice a melancholy repetition in my notes. I lift my notes to force happiness but my song doesn't sound as pretty.
When I finish prepping the ingredients, I pour the contents into my wide mug and pour the leftover milk into my cereal. I take up my mug and bowl and move back into my living room. I sit down on my thrift store couch, still coated with plastic, and eat my breakfast in silence with only the pulse of the electricity to hum around me.
I check my phone again and double-check the location of Hobi's house.
It is near downtown, only a few blocks away from their restaurant and the cafe. They must save money on gasoline during the warmer months since they can walk to walk.
In a way, I am jealous of the life they have created for themselves. Namjoon created Bangtan Chicken and Brewery and gathered his friends to run it. They live together in the same house which saves money for all seven of them. They appear close as brothers meaning their relationship with each other must be fairly healthy. They have a solid, well-thought-out plan and it's successful.
I am going to join them.
I check through my social media apps and find my timelines dry as ever. I glance over the local news tab and notice an odd headline, even for a small town like this one.
"Joe Mawhma's chickens found in the trainyard, dead. Local authorities baffled by the small-town chicken murderer."
I squint at the words and reread them to make sure I am not suddenly dyslexic. A chicken murderer? How many chickens do they find dead in this place to name somebody a chicken murderer? And why are they in the trainyard?
I make a face and put my phone away. I finish eating my breakfast and clean up my dishes. I keep my apartment fairly clean on a regular basis since I don't have anything better to do. I also tend to be a stress cleaner and can often be found vacuuming in the middle of the night after a rough day of work.
My mom would always know how my state of mind was if she checked how clean my room was.
During intense and anxious times, the apartment smells of lemon-scented wood cleaner and when I am relaxed and happy, it smells of fresh bread, coffee, and melted butter.
I enter my bedroom and search my closet once more, in hopes of seeing my outfits with newfound style expertise. I decide on my pair of faded blue jeans and a soft dark gray-colored sweater that hangs loosely to my frame. I wear a black tank top underneath it to make sure it is modest. I roll up my sleeves to reveal my tattoos and study their intricate designs with a careful eye.
The artist that did my tattoos did a flawless job on them. I don't typically spend money but these tattoos were one of my best choices.
A soft knocking on my door stirs me from my thoughts.
I look back over my shoulder in confusion and frown as paranoia mounts in my mind.
Who would come to my apartment? My parents would have texted me if they were coming. Who is it?
I don't like this.
The knocking pauses before returning with an urgent rhythm.
I take a deep breath as I cross my bedroom, grabbing my pocket knife from out of my desk drawer. I unsheath the black blade and keep my grip tight on its rubber handle. I walk out of my bedroom and out into my small living room area. I reach the door and hesitantly keep through the small hole.
I don't recognize him.
A man stands on the other side of the door. He looks non-threatening but so did Ted Bundy. He appears to be middle-aged and is wearing a raincoat, fresh with morning dew. He is wearing a pair of thin-rimmed glasses and has a prominent nose.
I unlock my door and open it quickly, scaring him from the sharp motion.
His body stiffens with momentary surprise before relaxing. "Oh!" he says quietly.
I hide the knife behind my back and smile kindly at the man, despite the tight knots in my stomach. "Good morning, can I help you?" I ask.
The man smiles hastily in return. "Good morning, my name is Tyler Bernard. I just moved in next door, I just wanted to meet my neighbors!" He offers me his hand, "It's nice to meet you!"
I hold the door open with my hip and offer him my free hand. I shake his heavy hand briefly and withdraw my hand. "Nice to meet you too, my name is Finley."
"That's a pretty name," he comments lightly. He glances down at my exposed tattoos before refocusing on my face. "It looks like we're the only ones on this floor," he adds with a note of curiosity.
I nod slowly, beginning to chew on my lower lip. I tilt my head to the right to look down the hallway, "I think somebody lives down there, but they are at church. There is usually somebody always here... I am working most of the time."
He cocks his head to one side and smiles once again. "I actually asked the landlord and she said that you are the only one on this floor. So it will just be you and me."
My brow pinches together as I begin to feel uncomfortable by his statement. I can't tell if he's trying to emphasize a point or terrible at making small talk. "Cool," I answer curtly. "But I'm not here most of the day anyway."
"But I am sure we'll pass by each other," he continues, waving his hand dismissively. "Anyway, I hope we will be great neighbors! If I need anything, can I come to you? You have lived for a while, it seems, so you have the most experience! I just moved here after my girlfriend and I split, so I was hoping to meet somebody who knew the town."
My mouth curls back into an awkward smile, "Actually it would be best if you asked Shelly, the landlord. She has better knowledge than I do. You should ask her. Like I said, I am not here very often."
Tyler's face falls with disappointment. "Oh, that's true."
I clear my throat and grip my knife tighter. "Yeah, she can be very helpful. She's really nice too."
He nods slowly, "Yes, she does seem very nice." He shrugs one shoulder, "But sometimes she isn't here, maybe I could just walk over here and ask you, you know? That seems much easier." He pauses and his eyes wander over my shoulder as if he were trying to see behind me. "I was wondering if I could take a peek of your apartment. I am trying to decorate mine and I just want to see how the furniture can fit. Just for some ideas, you get what I mean."
He stares directly into my eyes making me feel more uncomfortable than before. It's as if he is challenging me to say no.
"Actually I was on my way out. I am meeting up with friends today and I am going to be late," I explain in a calm voice. "Besides, I don't have a lot of furniture so there isn't much to see. It was nice meeting you, Tyler."
"Oh, but it would only be for a second," Tyler urged, not taking the hint.
I bite back an automatic "I'm sorry" because I have absolutely no reason to be sorry towards him. I can say no when I want to.
"No thank you, but you have a great day," I say with firm finality. I bow my head to him and step further from the door.
Tyler sighs but nods, still disappointed. "I don't see what the big deal is but alright. It was nice meeting you as well, Finley." He flashes me a hollow smile as he moves away from the door, "I'll see you again soon."
I clench my jaw together at his wording. Let's hope not. But I force a smile before closing the door on him. I quietly lock the door and let out a sigh of relief. I hadn't realized I was scarcely breathing.
That was such an awkward and strange conversation. I really hope I don't run into him again. That man is creepy as heck. Though his requests seemed polite and lighthearted, I get a bad feeling from him. A feeling I can't shake even as I stand safely in my apartment living room.
I glance down at the knife in my hand and turn over the blade. Maybe I wasn't overreacting, after all.
I shake my head a few times and refocus on the upcoming lunch party with the Bangtan boys. I begin to daydream about all the possible interactions we might have during lunch. Hopefully, my social skills will kick in when I want them to. Though aside from an occasional heart failure, Hobi and I can talk well together. Especially if we are talking about making drinks.
I wonder what drinks he'll show me today.
I finish getting ready in my bathroom and soon, I am set to leave for the lunch party at the Bangtan house. I kept my makeup light because of the drizzle of rain outside. I'd rather not smear my makeup during our lunch. Personally, I think I look pretty cute and I can't help but hope Hobi notices it.
I am not dressing for him, of course, but I wonder if he'll think my style is nice.
I grab my small purse and head for the door. I decide on keeping my pocket knife in my purse, just in case. You can never be too careful these days.
I lock the apartment door behind me, checking to make sure Tyler is nowhere in sight. I don't want to run into him any time soon. He made me feel uncomfortable and I don't want to experience that again. I can only hope our paths never cross again and my message was clear as crystal.
With a final check, I turn to face the long, tan-colored hallway and walk towards the stairs at the end of it.
I am dressed, caffeinated, and ready for lunch. I hope today goes well for me.
A/N: It has been SO LONG since I have updated and I apologize for that! Rest assured, I am back from an intense period of school and ready to write! With time on my side, I can update this more often! I noticed I have a pattern when I write and that means the plot truly begins around chapter ten, haha. What do you think of Tyler? What are your predictions for lunch with the boys? This chapter was meant to give a glimpse of Finley's home life! What do you think? Take care of yourselves, and I will see you soon!