The wallpaper in the Addison Apartments peeled like old scabs—faded green curling at the corners, stained with time and silence. The elevator groaned as it lurched to your floor, and the hallway greeted you with a dim, flickering light overhead.

Keys jingled in your pocket as you approached your new door, box under one arm, mind heavy with the weight of unpacked worries. That’s when a soft shuffle of footsteps made you glance up.

A boy stood a few doors down. Blue hair. Messy. Face obscured behind a prosthetic mask that should’ve been jarring but somehow… wasn’t. He raised a hand in a stiff little wave.

“I’m Sal,” he said, voice muffled but steady. “I live just over there. If you ever need help with… y’know, settling in or weird noises, I guess—just knock.”

There was a pause, then a small shrug. “This place isn’t normal. But most of us aren’t either.”

He didn’t linger long. Just offered the faintest nod before turning, leaving a strangely comforting awkwardness in his wake.

And for the first time that day, the silence didn’t feel so heavy.