Chapter Text
Christine took a deep breath before she heaved yet another box out of the backseat of her car, letting it drop to the ground. Leaning over, she reached into the vehicle to repeat this process once more, then turned to look at the stack of boxes behind her. God, she really hated moving. There were several reasons why, though the most prominent one at present was the physical labor required for the job.
She knew, of course, that it would have been logical to have had more people help her with the task, but she didn’t have many people to ask in the first place. Taking care of her ailing father for the past few years alongside working as a ballet instructor left her with very little time for a social life, and therefore, very few friends. That was how she found herself moving from her previous flat to her new one with only the help of her best friend, Sorelli Chevalier.
“This is the last of the boxes in my car, Sorelli,” Christine called to her friend, who had just appeared from the apartment building after having deposited a heavier box in Christine’s new apartment. “Are there more in yours, or are we finally almost done?”
“I think I have one little one left in my passenger seat, but that’s it for me,” Sorelli said with a nod. “Almost there!”
“Thank goodness,” Christine replied as she fanned herself with her hand, not entirely sure whether she was sweating due to the unseasonably warm early spring weather or from lifting heavy boxes. “I’m absolutely exhausted. I’m so ready for all of this to be over and done with.”
“You and me both. I’m not enjoying this either, even if it is a good arm workout. I get enough of that between dance and pilates,” Sorelli said, laughing quietly. “But hey, at least you’ll finally be in your new place! It’s been a long time coming, I think this will be good for you.”
“I really do hope so. I just hate that I have to do this at all,” Christine replied with a sigh as she lifted two boxes off the ground. “I already miss my old place. Papa loved it there.”
Sorelli shot her friend a sympathetic smile. “I know. I’m really sorry that you had to leave,” she said softly. “It was a really beautiful apartment.”
“It was, but I couldn’t afford to stay there forever. It’s just sad to know that someone else is going to be living in the last home my father knew,” Christine replied, using her knee to briefly balance the boxes so that she could get a better grip. “Would you be able to get the one by my feet? We can take these in and then get the last one in your car, unless you think you can manage both.”
“I think I can handle them both, the one in my car is small,” Sorelli nodded. “But you’re right, it is sad. I know your father would understand, though. Try not to beat yourself up about it too much.”
“I’m certainly trying not to. I just don’t like the idea of a new place, that’s all. I’m sure I’ll adjust—I have to—but it’s going to take a bit for this place to truly feel like home.”
“That’s how it goes for everyone. I know I felt that way when I first moved out of my parents’ place,” Sorelli said as she opened her car and retrieved the last box inside, then stacked it on top of the other box Christine had pointed out. “You’ll get used to it. On top of that, I think the new place will do you good. It’ll help you process everything with your dad a bit better.”
“I know it will. It’ll be good to have a place that’s totally my own,” Christine said with a small smile, following her friend as she started toward the building once more. “Hopefully my neighbors will be nice. That’s one of the things I’ve been trying to use to keep myself positive about this whole situation. Meeting new people, making new friends.”
“That’s the spirit,” Sorelli said, smiling over at her friend. “I’m sure they’ll all be really sweet. There’s no way they couldn’t like someone like you, and if they don’t, they’ll hear about it from me.”
Christine laughed quietly at her friend’s veiled threat. They made their way up to the second floor of the apartment building in very little time and soon found themselves inside Christine’s new, quite empty flat.
It was a humble flat, though it was certainly plenty of space for a—presently single—woman living on her own. The walls varied between differing shades of white and beige, the carpet was plain, and the windows had no curtains. It was positively awful, Christine couldn’t help thinking, but she could hear her father’s ever-optimistic voice in the back of her head telling her that this was a good thing. This was simply a blank canvas for her to work with and make her own.
“I think it’s cute,” Sorelli said, interrupting her friend’s quiet reverie. “You can do a lot with it, make it all nice and homey.”
“The first order of business is definitely going to be painting before the moving van comes with my furniture the day after tomorrow,” Christine replied, only to sigh quietly. “Though I have a feeling this is going to take more than just a couple of days.”
“Probably. The place may be small, but painting takes a long time,” Sorelli said. “We have to prime it and then paint it. Do you even know what the landlord’s rules are about painting?”
“Before the landlord changed, I was told I’m free to repaint if I wish. I should probably check if that’s still alright,” Christine said softly. “So much to do.”
“That’s how it goes with a new place. Never fails,” Sorelli replied as she set down the boxes she was carrying. “Were there a couple more boxes to grab downstairs?”
“I don’t think so. I believe this was it,” Christine said with a nod. “Thank you, Sorelli. Now I just have to figure out how I’m going to decorate this place.”
“Well, I’m sure we can figure that out,” Sorelli said, nudging her friend’s shoulder. “We can make a trip to the supermarket in a minute and pick out some decorations if you want.”
“I suppose that’s not a bad idea. It would at least give me something more to look at than beige walls,” Christine said with a quiet laugh. “Perhaps we could also stop by the home improvement store to get some paint. I’m thinking blues.”
Sorelli nodded enthusiastically. “Blues would be perfect,” she replied. “Now, where do these boxes need to be?”
Christine took a glance around at the boxes that littered her foyer as she thought for a moment. “The boxes you set down both go in the bedroom. The ones to my left are pots and pans, so to the kitchen they go. The far one has some photographs that will either get hung up or set out in my bedroom, and the rest can just stay here for now, I think. I can’t unpack some of it until my furniture comes, anyway.”
“Very true,” Sorelli replied. “I’ll take the pots and pans into the kitchen. Why don’t you take these to your bedroom and scope it out a bit more?”
“Yes, that sounds good,” Christine said with a small smile and a nod. She carefully picked up the boxes her friend had just set down—ones containing her clothes and some shoes—and moved out of the small entryway.
The bedroom was, thankfully, about the same size as the one in her previous apartment. There was a decent-sized window, which added the perfect amount of light. She would have plenty of room for her wardrobe and cupboards, as well as her vanity and chair. It might be slightly cramped, but she didn’t completely mind. Perhaps being able to lay out the bedroom in a similar fashion to her former one might even help the place to feel a bit more like home, she thought.
She placed the boxes of clothing down on the ground where she thought her wardrobe might go—though she was sure that plan might change eventually—then moved to the middle of the room and looked around. It was certainly a blank canvas, and there really was no other way to describe it, but she was beginning to see a vision for the room. If she tried hard enough, she could see the walls painted a beautiful blue color, her own bed assembled against the wall with the floral bedspread that she loved so much, and room on the walls for the little drawings that her ballet students would give to her after class sometimes. She was starting to be able to see this place as her new home, and she was certainly glad for that. Sorelli was right, she knew; she needed a fresh start and she was eager to finally properly get started with that.
Taking a deep breath, she took a step closer to the window and ran her hands around the frame, already thinking about the blinds she intended to get, along with a set of decorative drapes to match the carpet she had been wanting to buy. She smiled as she imagined it all.
She pushed open her window and leaned her head out into the open air, feeling the warm spring breeze on her face and looking down at the people walking on the sidewalk below her. She couldn’t complain much about the view; she could see over the city from her third-floor window, could see the Eiffel Tower off in the distance. For the price she was paying—much lower than what she had been for the place she had previously lived—she wasn’t finding very much to complain about.
Christine gave a small smile, hoping that perhaps this wouldn’t be too bad after all. A knock on the front door, however, broke her from her thoughts and caused her to frown. Who on earth could that be? No one outside of Sorelli and her on-again, off-again boyfriend—presently off again—knew her precise address. Given that neither was plausibly at the door, she was perplexed as to who it could be. “I’ll get it, Sorelli!” she called as she hurried back out to her entryway.
“Okay!” Sorelli responded from where she still stood in the kitchen. “Were you expecting someone?”
“No, so this ought to be interesting,” Christine said with a bit of a laugh as she reached out to open the door, revealing a sweet-looking elderly woman. “Good afternoon, madame. May I help you?”
“Good afternoon,” the woman replied, giving Christine a warm smile. “My name is Camille. I noticed that you were moving in and thought I would introduce myself.”
“Oh, that’s so kind of you. Hello, my name is Christine,” she replied with a smile. “I would invite you in and offer you refreshments, but at the moment, I’m afraid I have nothing to offer you except the view of my boxes everywhere.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Camille said, gently waving her off. “We can always do that another time. I live on the second floor, in apartment two-zero-two. If you need anything, feel free to pop down and ask.”
“That’s very kind of you. Thank you, Camille,” Christine said softly, the woman’s motherly nature causing a warm feeling to flood her chest. “The same goes for you. Let me know if there’s ever anything I can do.”
Camille smiled at her and set a hand on her arm. “That’s very sweet, thank you,” she replied. “Are you almost done moving all of your boxes? I know it’s exhausting.”
“We have everything inside, so now it’s just a matter of unpacking. My furniture won’t be here for another two days, so I can’t get it all done for a little while. It’s unfortunate, but it gives me the time to decorate,” Christine said with a small shrug. “Hey, do you know if the new landlord allows us to repaint? I can’t stand the beige.”
“I haven’t seen or heard any rules to the contrary,” Camille replied, shrugging her shoulders. “I think you should be alright. I think most people would rebel and leave if he put his foot down about that; our last landlord was so lenient with that sort of thing. He really enjoyed the arts, Monsieur Carriere, so he was always glad to see people being creative. He thought they were entitled to do that in their own homes.” The older woman gave her a wink then. “But anyhow, I say go ahead and paint. I’ll stick up for you if you get any trouble for it.”
“Thank you, that’s very nice. I suppose us single women have to stick together,” Christine said with a bit of a laugh.
“We certainly do,” Camille said with a laugh. She then turned and bent down, and Christine found a tin of cookies being held out to her. “Here you are. I brought these for you too, I nearly forgot.”
“Oh, thank you. I look forward to enjoying these once I get back from shopping,” Christine said with a wide smile. “I love cookies.”
Camille smiled at the young woman’s glee. “I’m so glad,” she said. “Well, I will leave you to your move! I just wanted to introduce myself. Like I said, do not hesitate to pop down and ask for something. I will happily help you out.”
“Thanks, Camille, that really does mean a lot. I’ll certainly let you know if there’s anything I need,” Christine replied with a nod. “Have a lovely afternoon.”
“You too, dear. Welcome to the building.”
“Well, I think that was a successful outing,” Sorelli said as she stepped into Christine’s apartment, lugging three large paper bags along with her. “We have enough decor for practically the entire place and I think that’s an accomplishment.”
Christine laughed quietly as she set her own bags by the door and took a deep breath. “I suppose it is an accomplishment of sorts. It will certainly make this place more of a home than a beige box,” she said with a small smile. “Hopefully we can at least get the first coats of paint down today. Perhaps at least in the living room and my bedroom.”
“That would be good, I think,” Sorelli nodded. “New paint always freshens everything up, and the colors you picked will help a lot. They’re really nice.”
“Thank you. I’ve always been quite fond of blue,” Christine said with a smile. “And the lavender was too pretty for me to not get. Though I can’t tell if a purple bathroom is a poor choice.”
“I don’t think so. We’ll look for a nice peel-and-stick wallpaper to go up as a feature wall that’ll compliment the purple nicely,” Sorelli replied. “We’re going to make it work. That color really is too nice not to be on a wall.”
“Oh, wallpaper! Why didn’t we think of that while we were out? We could have grabbed it,” Christine said with a bit of a sigh, resting her hands on her hips. “I suppose it would be good to make a list of things I’ll need, hm? There’s bound to be more I’ve forgotten.”
“There always will be,” Sorelli said with a laugh. “So a list is a good idea. It’s fine that you didn’t get wallpaper today, I think. It lets you browse online, make a mood board or something for what you want before buying one and then hating it once you get it home.”
Christine let out a bit of a laugh. “You make a good point there. I wouldn’t want to end up hating it and then be stuck with it,” she said. “Maybe we can do some online shopping while we eat dinner tonight. You can still stay until the evening, right?”
“I can,” Sorelli said with a nod. “We’ll have to order takeout of some sort, given that you have no groceries, dishes, or cutlery. Are you craving something in particular?”
“Pizza doesn’t require any of the above,” Christine said with a small shrug. “We could have one delivered. It might be the easiest choice.”
“It probably is. There’s a couple more bags out in the hallway, so if you grab those, I can order the pizza.”
“Yes, I can. Make sure to ask for extra cheese, because the place near here never seems to put enough,” Christine said with a quiet laugh before she turned to step out of the flat.
“I know the drill, I’m not crazy!” Sorelli called after her, laughing through her words.
“Okay, I’m just making sure. Sometimes I forget with this place, and then am disappointed,” Christine laughed, stepping back out into the hallway and leaning over to pick up another bag and a couple of cans of paint.
“Need some help with that?” she heard someone with a deep voice ask, making her jump. Her head shot up and she saw, a few steps in front of her, a rather large man—large in every respect, both in height and weight—leaning against the wall and looking at her with a somewhat amused smirk on his face.
Christine immediately resented the offer when she saw his expression, since it was clearly born out of his disbelief that she couldn’t handle herself. “No, I’m fine,” she quickly replied as she lifted the bag and cans into her arms. “Can I help you?”
“Are you new here?” the man asked, completely ignoring her question as he gave her an up-and-down glance.
“Yes,” Christine replied cautiously as she stepped back toward her door. “Why?”
“Oh, just curious. I’m the maintenance worker for the building, so I’m pretty familiar with the tenants, but I hadn’t seen you before,” the man replied as he shot her a toothy smile. “I’m Joseph. Joseph Buquet.”
“That’s nice,” Christine said with a nod. “Well…have a good day.”
“What, I don’t get your name back?” Joseph asked with a low chuckle. “It’s hard for me to keep tabs on what needs fixing in your apartment if I don’t even know your name. Assuming you’re the owner, that is.”
“I’ll let you know if I need help, don’t you worry,” Christine said with a nod. “Anyway, my friend is waiting for me.”
Joseph nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets, then pushed his weight off of the wall to stand up straight. “Welcome to the building,” he replied, smiling at her again. “And watch out for the hermit across the hall. He’s really somethin’.”
This made Christine pause in her movements, her fingers only lightly brushing the doorknob. “What do you mean, exactly?” she asked with a frown.
“Oh, you know. You hear all sorts of things about him,” Joseph replied with a casual shrug, though he was obviously suppressing a smile at his success in regaining Christine’s attention. “He’s a total freak, though.”
“I don’t think it’s polite to spread rumors about people, monsieur,” Christine replied. “Unless there’s a safety concern, I don’t see how his personal life is anyone’s business.”
Joseph made a skeptical sound in the back of his throat. “When you hear all the chatter about the drugs in that place, you start to wonder if it is a safety concern. He never even lets me in for maintenance.”
“Perhaps he doesn’t need to. He might fix things himself, or perhaps he hasn’t had reason to admit you into his home,” Christine replied, thinking that she certainly didn’t blame the person for not wanting to invite a creep like this into his place.
“You’re a real optimist, aren’t you?” Joseph asked with a smirk. “Always looking at the positives in people.”
“I suppose you could say that,” Christine replied with an awkward little shrug. “Well, like I said, my friend is waiting for me inside.”
“You do that,” Joseph nodded, pointing to the door across the hallway again. “Just watch out for that one. We wouldn’t want anything happening to the newest addition to our building.”
Without another word, Christine hurried back into the flat and immediately kicked the door shut behind her. “Sorelli, oh my god!” she exclaimed with an audible shudder.
“What, what?” her best friend asked as she darted out of the kitchen. “Do I need my pocket knife? I brought it with me.”
“I’m genuinely wondering if you will. I just met perhaps the creepiest man I have ever met, and I’m starting to wonder if this whole thing was a mistake,” Christine replied as she placed the paint cans in the living room. “He’s the repair man, and let me tell you, I will not be using his services.”
“Oh no, you’re kidding,” Sorelli said, scrunching her nose up. “What happened?”
“I was out in the hallway, minding my own business, and he just started talking to me. He gave me the up-and-down, so I know he wasn’t just trying to be friendly, and when I tried to walk away, he started talking about the supposed drug addict across the hall.”
“Drug addict?” Sorelli asked as she quirked a brow suspiciously. “What drug addict?”
“He claimed that he’s heard rumors about the guy across the hall. Said something about chatter of drugs in the place,” Christine replied, giving a dismissive wave of her hand. “He probably just wanted to make himself seem normal and like my personal knight in shining armor for warning me about the ‘issue’ that was probably made up to begin with.”
Sorelli scoffed. “What a freak,” she said. “I thought Philippe said this was a nice building.”
“Clearly, he hadn’t met the handyman,” Christine sighed. “So now that’s something I have to watch out for. Perhaps I’ll have to ask Camille if she knows whether he’s really dangerous or just weird.”
“That’s a good idea. She seemed sweet,” Sorelli replied. “And just ignore the guy across the hall, then. If he’s weird, it’s better that way, and if not, well, he can just live his life.”
“Oh, I meant the repair guy. I couldn't care less about the guy across the hall. He’s not the one who tried to trap me in a conversation in the hallway,” Christine said with a humorless laugh.
“Yes, yes, I know. Run from that man if you see him,” Sorelli chuckled. “But still, just ignore the rumors. I’m sure apart from the repairman, it’s a really nice place.”
Christine nodded, taking a slow breath as she glanced around her flat. “Yes, I’m sure it is. It seems very lovely so far. If I can avoid the maintenance worker, I think I’ll end up really liking it here.”
“I think you will too,” Sorelli said with a smile. “But why don’t we start putting a coat of primer on the wall in your bedroom? I ordered the pizza, so that’ll be here soon.”
“Yes, good, primer and then pizza,” Christine said with a small smile. “Let’s do that.”
“Good plan,” Sorelli replied, picking up the two cans of paint that Christine had brought inside and walking down the hallway toward the bedroom. “Come on! Grab the brushes and painter’s tape, and let’s go.”
Christine let out a quiet laugh as she followed her friend’s instructions. “For the record, you are way too excited about this whole ordeal. You shouldn’t be more excited than I am about my own new apartment.”
“I am trying to get you excited with my excitement,” Sorelli said with a smile. “I think it’ll work eventually.”
Christine nodded in agreement and set the painting supplies down in her soon-to-be bedroom. The two quickly got to work, slathering the primer all over the four walls, turning them from beige to a rather blinding white.
They ended up finishing the fourth wall just in time, and just as Christine put down her paintbrush, there was a knock at her front door. “Oh good, pizza, when I’m covered in paint. Great,” she said with a laugh, wiping her hands off on the smock she wore before she untied and removed it. “I’ll be right back.”
Moving out of the room, Christine heaved a tired sigh and went to the door to collect her pizza and pay the delivery man, hoping all the while that she would be able to get a good night’s rest after everything that day.
Meanwhile, across the hallway…
Erik watched through his peephole as the new tenant opened her door and collected the large, flat box from a delivery boy who mysteriously looked no older than fourteen years of age. He scoffed quietly at the thought of having another noisy neighbor to put up with. He could hardly stand the thought.
As the delivery boy stepped away, cash in hand, Erik got a head-on glimpse of his new neighbor’s face, and that made him pause for a moment. He hadn’t properly seen her before, though he had been keeping an eye on things since she began moving in earlier that day. In fact, the thought of opening the door had crossed his mind for a fleeting moment earlier when he had noticed Joseph Buquet had forced her into conversation; that man disgusted him, so he couldn’t imagine how a young woman alone with him would feel.
And yet, through all of those moments, he hadn’t gotten a proper look at her face; he had mostly seen her mess of blonde curls piled into a messy bun on top of her head. Now, though, seeing her face made his breath catch in a moment, so taken was he by her soft features and her sparkling blue eyes.
Something about the way she smiled and waved at the delivery boy as he walked away was positively captivating. Her movements were gentle and easy, her facial expression so kind and genuine. He couldn’t bring himself to look away.
The warmth of her smile made his hand make the slightest movement towards the doorknob, part of him wanting to look out into the hallway and introduce himself like a proper neighbor. And yet, his fingers hadn’t even brushed the cool brass of the knob when that feeling of dread, one that always threatened to become all-consuming if he didn’t retreat back into himself, settled in the pit of his stomach. He cursed the feeling, willing it away, but when it showed no signs of giving up, he pulled his hand away, clenching it into a fist and tucking it in his pocket. He watched the young woman through the peephole as he waited for the knot in his stomach to loosen, and found his heart sinking a bit when she disappeared back into her apartment.
Erik sighed under his breath, though whether it was a wistful one in reaction to his neighbor or one of relief at the anxious feeling subsiding, he couldn’t quite tell. He looked out at the empty hallway for another moment before he stepped back from his door, starting towards his living room and pulling his phone out of his pocket as he went.
He sent off two text messages as he settled onto the sofa, two little blue bubbles in a chat labeled ‘Gerard.’
Did you know there was a new tenant moving in across the hall?
And if you did, why did you fail to mention that she was so beautiful?