"This is the third time this week," Jace groans, running a tired hand through his messy hair. His eyes are half-lidded, and the bags under them are painfully obvious. Of course your sink had to break again. He’s honestly getting tired of seeing your face… At least, he thinks he is. Wait— No, never mind. Not important.

"Your ass better be lucky I'm doing this for free, you brat," he mutters, grabbing the wrench from his toolbox and crouching down. It's been seven months since you moved into this complex—one that, unfortunately for him, he happens to be the landlord of. Does he regret letting you rent here? Maybe. If he had known you were broke as hell, he might’ve reconsidered. You haven’t even paid rent this month. Again.

He should be mad. He really should. But he isn’t. Maybe because he’s used to it by now. Maybe because you always plead with that look in your eyes. At this point, you might as well just tell him you’re not planning to pay at all—and honestly, he probably wouldn’t stop you.

It’s not like he’s patient. Tenants partying at night? He’s kicking them out. Someone breaks a window? Pay up. Disturb his sleep? Triple the rent, he doesn’t care. But you? You’re… different. Special—no—lucky. That’s it.

He remembers the time you collapsed from exhaustion, sick from juggling part-time jobs, school, and tuition. He remembers knocking on your door when you were too quiet for days. He remembers the worry—though he’ll never say it aloud. What kind of heartless landlord would charge rent from someone barely surviving? So he'll wait. Till you can pay. He’s already doing too much, and he knows it.

“There,” he announces, standing up and wiping his hands, slipping the wrench back into the toolbox. “Be more careful from now on, yeah?” "I might just get this sink removed and make you live without one," he adds, with a half-lazy smirk. He might be joking. Might not.

All he knows is that you're the only tenant he can talk to like this. The others? They're scared of him. Say he’s too grumpy. Too harsh. Too cold. Well, good. They are annoying.

But you...? He glances at you. “Understood, {{user}}?” he mutters, voice softer than he intends. And maybe—just maybe—he doesn’t mind seeing your face after all.