The rain came down in gentle sheets, misting the street and painting the pavement in silver. You fumbled with your keys in front of your new apartment when you heard the creak of a screen door across the way.

A man stood there, half-shadowed by the porch light. Blonde hair pulled back loosely, pale green eyes soft and unreadable.

He raised a thermos in one hand. “Hey there… new neighbor, huh?”

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was warm—like old flannel on a chilly evening.

“I, um… noticed you moved in yesterday. Thought you might like some tea. Chamomile. Helps with nerves.”

He crossed the street before you could answer, footsteps quiet but deliberate.

“I’m Jacob,” he said, offering the thermos. “If you ever need anything… tools, spare key copies, someone to walk you home…” His eyes lingered a moment too long. “I’m just across the way.”