"... Hey.." He said, fiddling with his hands as he stood in the doorway.
"Um... Do you.. Live here?" You asked, unsure how to react.
"Unfortunately."
The two of you just stared at each other. Mark's sweat ran down his forehead and his body quivered a bit. You were angry with all of the trouble he had caused you, but you were also concerned. Why didn't he ever tell you that he was your neighbour? What was all of that screaming for? Why did he look like this? What had happened?
"Mark, are you okay?" You asked, putting the back of your hand to his forehead. Oddly, he felt cold to the touch, but he looked like he was burning up.
Mark reacted quickly by grabbing your wrist and taking your hand off of his head.
"I'm fine." He weakly assured, his body still shaking. You were surprised by his reaction, but you were more worried than offended in that moment.
"You're not fine! Look at you! What's been going on? Why have you been screaming-"
"There's no reason to be concerned!" He yelled, his eyes filled with frustration as his body tensed up, "You can't do anything! Stop trying to help me, you're just going to make it worse!"
You took a step back, allowing Mark enough comfort with distance to drop your hand.
"I don't know what's wrong with you, but I can assure you that I'll help you in any way that-"
"Stop!" He shouted desperately hitting the side of the building. As a result, the door to his apartment shook, causing small particles of dust to fall from it and into Mark's hair, "I don't want your help! Leave me alone!"
With that, he stepped back inside his apartment and slammed the door shut in your face.
Confused and scared, you stood in front of his apartment, feeling your chest constrict.
'What just happened?'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Weirdly enough, you didn't hear anything through the walls of your apartment for the rest of the night, but that didn't mean that you got any more sleep.
If anything, you were still restless, upset at Mark's words.
'You can't do anything! Stop trying to help me, you're just making it worse!'
And he blew up so quickly. He could have been having somewhat of a night terror, but that didn't make any sense either. Why was he directing his frustrations on you? Was it just because you were just there? Maybe it was one of those 'at wrong place at the wrong time' things.
You heaved out a groan as you walked towards your history class, dreading the silence between the two of you. You were going to have to go back to your original seat, and probably suffer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Aww. Is your little boyfriend not here?" Amy asked you, hands on her hips and head cocked to the side. The girl's behind her laughed with her, although it wasn't a very witty remark. You looked up at her, disinterested.
"Yeah. Ha ha. You're so funny." You replied, the emptiness of the classroom beginning to eat away at your nerves. You didn't like to be cornered. But, you could deal with it. You dealt with it through high school, so why let it take you down now? You were looking forward to going home, but you remembered who your neighbour was. You put your hand to your head in frustration, as you felt a headache start to come on. Amy's chatting only made that feeling worse.
You drowned out her annoying posh voice and focused in on Mark's seat, which was empty. Maybe he was going through something emotionally. He did say that his friend had recently committed suicide, so maybe he was going through some trauma. He never gave any details about it, so maybe he was nearby when it happened. Did he think that it was his fault?
Eventually, Amy and her friends lost interest in you and left to go to their own seats, but you didn't pay much attention to it. The professor walked in and class began, allowing you to calm yourself a bit and ignore your pestering thoughts as you focused on the lesson.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*Is everything okay? I haven't heard from you much.*
It was Alvin, texting you to check in, but you didn't register his message.
It was now Saturday. Three days have passed since the incident on Wednesday night, and you were terrified. Not because of the noises you heard, but because there weren't any. Mark's apartment didn't echo a peep after your discovery of his presence. Least to say, it freaked you out. He didn't seem to stop before, so why now? You had sent him several messages like, 'How are you?', 'Are you okay?', and other things similar, but he didn't reply.
You ignored Alvin's message for now, as you played on an old, rusty piano. It had came with the apartment, for some odd reason, and it was actually very well tuned despite it's old age. You had refrained from using it before in fear of noise complaints, but now you wanted noise. You wanted something to drown out the silence around you. Therefore, you began to play and sing along with one of your favourite songs.
As you sang, you fingers glided messily across the black and white keys. You weren't the best piano player, but you had enough to get by. You had tried multiple instruments before, but none had really piqued your interest enough to continue playing.
But this was a lost art. Nowadays, everyone plays guitars. Sure, it's a very convenient instrument, but is anything truly more beautiful and graceful than a melody that can be differentiated? Any octave you choose, with enough power to blow away an audience, but also make them cry. Any emotion you choose is truly at your fingertips. What more power could you want than that?6
With your mind focused on the keys, your mind transitioned through the songs words until you hit the ending note, and you couldn't didn't even remember how you sung. You took a deep breath in and out, feeling your body release your tense muscles and you could feel your jaw un-clench from the musical therapy.
'Maybe I should pursue music therapy..'
You released the sustain pedal and looked over at your phone, remembering the sound of your phone's alert for when you received a message. You got up and collapsed on your bed as you checked your phone.
You had a message from Alvin, but also one from Mark, which caught your attention. Both scared and hopeful you opened up Mark's message first. Though, you wondered why you didn't hear an alert. Maybe you were just playing too loudly.
He only sent one word, but that word was enough to confuse you. Didn't he say that he wanted you to leave him alone? Was he over his emotional breakdown? Was he even stable at this point?
You stared at the word for a couple more moments, hoping that something would eventually click, But alas, there was no hidden message, it seemed.
In the text were a bunch of garbled, corrupted-looking symbols, and a single, readable phrase at the end of it.
Beautiful.