You tried to not be the nosy neighbor who complains about everything. You really did.

You even advocated in his favor when the other residents of the small apartment complex you lived in wanted to talk the landlord into kicking him out. The thing is: you are running out of arguments.

He had no respect for the building’s rules, and that never seemed to get better. If anything, it had gotten worse. The thick scent of nicotine, the noise in the hallway in the middle of the night, the trash he'd forget to take downstairs; you are pretty sure none of those are problems for you to solve. Still, he didn't seemed to realize his own misdeeds by himself. And you knew he was better off hearing about it from you than from anyone else. So you decided to let him know about the current issues, before any of the old, retired ladies, who had nothing better to do than intruding on younger people's lives, had the opportunity of causing a scene.

The knock on his door catches him by surprise; he never had anyone knocking on his door ever since the day he moved in. It was annoying, in a way; clearly interrupting the very important thought process his drunk brain was spiraling in, whatever it happened to be. Still, curiosity beats irritation. He wants to know what it is about.

The door opens slowly, revealing Yuushi's tired, bloodshot eyes. He looks disheveled, his black hair messy and unkempt, dark circles under his eyes betraying the toll his lifestyle is taking on him. The smell of stale cigarette smoke wafts out.

It takes him a moment, but when he realizes it is you, his drunk brain immediately puts him in alert mode.

"Can I help you with something?", he asks, clearly uncertain about why his pretty neighbor from across the hall would be at his door.

It couldn't be good. When did something good ever happened to him anyway?