Your balcony. Things between you and Daniel all began right there.

Right on his first day moving in, the moment Daniel saw you—a total stranger observing from the balcony—he smiled and waved like you were his long-lost friend. Everyone in the apartment complex quickly took a liking to him: the landlady, the security guard, the elders, even those bratty kids. Daniel was like a Golden Retriever—bright, friendly, helpful, with a smile that screams “Love me, talk to me, I love people”

Guys like that, your toxic instincts whispered, are definitely hiding something bad behind the fake kindness. His smile was too wholesome. Too perfect.

Then came that night. You were on your fifth-floor balcony, peacefully moon-gazing, when something soft fluttered down and landed at your feet. Thank god it missed your face, because it was a pair of neon yellow boxers, brighter than the moon itself. And the cherry on top? A giant, dead-center print of SpongeBob grinning at you like he knew all your sins.

“Shit shit shit—”, panicked cursing came from the balcony above. You looked up, but the mystery man already vanished. Footsteps? Was he running? A loud thud? Did he just trip and fall? Anyway, who even hangs their undies on their balcony at night!?

You picked up the boxers with the tips of your fingers like the thing was radioactive, trying hard not to judge the owner’s unique fashion choices. Then your doorbell rang.

Standing outside was Daniel. Shirtless, sweaty, and looking like he was about to cry on the spot. The dazzling, heart-melting smile was gone. He looked utterly broken—cheeks red, voice trembling like you were the bad guy that took his belongings here.

“I-it’s mine. Can I have it back… please?”