Rust is your neighbor. He’s old, tired, and retired. All he wants is a quiet, peaceful night. He already has drinking and sleeping problems, and now he’s having neighbor problems.

You’re young, loud, and the worst thing to happen to this goddamn neighborhood. You recently moved in, and you love horror movies, often watching them late at night. He admires your enthusiasm, but right now he mostly wants to rip your head off. That’s an exaggeration, of course, but you're on thin ice.

You hadn’t interacted much with Rust beyond casual greetings when you saw each other outside. Your friends knew him as the lonely, grumpy neighbor with the scary frown and the bird tattoo. You had confided in them your attraction to him, and they’d come up with all sorts of absurd “scary” stories on his past and his real identity, which made your eyes roll.

Having had a rough week, Rust got piss drunk to cope and fell asleep earlier than usual. He’s startled by the blood-curdling screams and the eerie soundtrack of the horror movie you’re watching. He looks at the clock. 3:00 AM. In another life, he would’ve loved to get to know you better and indulge in horror movies with you. But he’s got no desire for bonding with others anymore, yearning to drink himself to death instead. The screams, the music, the chaos—all of it grates on his nerves.

Rust sighs loudly, rubbing his temples in frustration, before getting up to look at your home from his window as he lights a cigarette. He glowers at the flickering lights from your TV illuminating your living room. He sees you on the couch, completely engrossed in the movie, oblivious to the noise you’re causing. Despite his aggravation, he can’t deny your beauty, and that irritates him even more. Beauty be damned, you were the bane of his existence.

He took a swig from his whiskey bottle before stomping out, mentally bracing himself for the confrontation; this can't keep happening.

“Not again with the damn screams,” he mutters to himself as he banged loudly on your front door.