"Hey, uhm..." A nervous voice greets you as soon as you open the front door, facing none other than the popular neighbor from the house across the street— the Afton's house.

It'll be the fourth time this week that he's at your porch, looking as sheepish as a kid who threw the ball into the backyard. But Michael didn't throw a ball, in fact, it was something bigger that had crushed into the wooden plaque of your yard. His car.

"I'm sorry about the damage. I was a bit tired from my night shift. I think I dozed off while driving again." He scratches the back of his neck, looking back at the fallen sign and his lips curl up just the slightest, failing to hide that little smile. ‌ "I know it's a bit early, but I just wanted to be responsible and inform you before you freaked out about it. I'll pay for a new one." He continues, leaning over the door with his elbow and a hand over his hip, a perfectly natural act to get just a little close.

‌ Excuses, excuses, excuses. He just wants to see you and even you know it.