To many people, Mystreet appeared a normal, happy neighborhood. Residents chatted, couples strolled—a picture of everyday life. But beneath the surface lay a secret, a ticking time bomb hidden within one of those ordinary houses. The resident appeared normal, engaging in pleasantries with neighbors, a beloved citizen. Yet, they *were* the bomb. And if left unchecked… the explosion would be devastating.
Fortunately, the detonation was distant. Until *she* arrived.
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Y/N’s POV
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July 1st, 2018. The day I moved into my new house in Mystreet. A first for my family—I was the first to graduate college. My parents, immensely proud, had purchased this house for me. Now, here I stand before a large house with walls of (Y/N)’s favorite color, a slightly darker shade on the roof. Too much color, perhaps, but I’d only specified “favorite color” when outlining requirements. Still, the house was beautiful.
I’m actually looking forward to this new start—a chance for friendships, maybe even romance. Past attempts hadn't been successful. The last relationship had left me shattered. It took nearly two years to regain the confidence to step back into public. But that’s behind me now. I’m stronger.
“Miss (Y/N) (Last Name), your belongings have arrived,” a voice chimed, interrupting my thoughts.
I turned to see a large truck parked behind my car. Men were already unloading furniture, also a gift from my parents. They're incredibly wealthy—owners of a massive company. Don't ask me how they achieved success without a college degree; I haven't a clue.
Hours later, everything was inside, papers signed. The moving truck departed, leaving me alone before my new home. I walked up the steps and inside. It was just as beautiful within: (Y/N)’s favorite color walls, wooden floors—something I’d always wanted, simply because carpet cleaning is a hassle. Wood always looks cleaner.
Enough about floors. Four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a large living room, a spacious kitchen, a dining area, closets… and a finished basement. More than I could ever need. Did my parents expect me to move in with a husband and three kids?
Further inspection revealed furniture arranged haphazardly. Did these movers lack basic reading comprehension? The blue couch, specifically directed for the basement, sat smack in the kitchen. The dining table was jammed against the wall next to the fireplace. An absolute mess! It would take hours to fix alone.
Maybe I could ask the neighbors for help?
Before anxiety could overwhelm me, I acted on the thought. I dashed out the door to the nearest house. I climbed the porch steps and rang the doorbell. Minutes passed. No response. I tried again, and again… still nothing. Most people would move on, but I’m not exactly "most people." I continued ringing, even pounding on the door, until finally, someone answered.
He was tall, pale, with silky black hair styled to obscure his left eye. The visible eye was a striking baby blue, raising the question why he concealed the other. He was dressed entirely in black, even a mask covering much of his face. Undeniably edgy.
He simply stared, silent. “Who are you? And why are you assaulting our doorbell?” he finally demanded, his tone laced with anger.
I crossed my arms. “I’m (Y/N) (Last Name). I moved into the neighborhood today. The movers completely botched the setup, so I need help fixing it.”
The man scoffed, rolling his eyes. “That doesn’t justify doorbell abuse. We’re busy. Find someone else to bother.”
He was about to slam the door when voices erupted from inside. Two more men appeared behind him.
“Zane, why were you about to slam the door on a girl who needs help?” a blond man shouted.
Zane scoffed again, his annoyance palpable. “I don’t know her. I simply don’t care.” He glared at me before retreating deeper into the house.
“I’m so sorry about him,” the blond apologized, as Zane disappeared. “He doesn’t know how to interact with people. He comes off as a jerk.”
I giggled, shaking my head. “No, it’s fine. I wasn’t expecting anyone to actually help.”
The blond sighed in relief. “Anyway, I’m Garroth, and this…” he gestured to the brunette beside him, “Is Laurance.”
I smiled at the two. “Well, glad to know this place isn't filled with jerks. I’m (Y/N) (Last Name), pleased to meet you both!” I offered a quick handshake.
“Come inside,” Garroth said. “We’re brewing coffee.” He turned to Laurance. “You did start the coffee, right?”
“Of course. I do my chores, unlike you,” Laurance retorted. Garroth playfully punched Laurance’s arm before turning back to me. “Want to come inside?”
I nodded. “I’d love to.”
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“We overheard you had trouble with the moving company,” Laurance stated as he brought coffee for the three of us.
“Yes, they completely messed up the setup, despite specific directions,” I said, sipping my coffee.
“I’d fix it myself, but it’ll take longer than having a few strong backs. That’s why I came to you guys, but I was greeted by that jerk Zane,” I continued, taking another sip.
Garroth and Laurance exchanged glances, then smiled. “We’d be happy to help, (Y/N). Garroth works out a lot; he’s got muscle. Plus, we can bring in Aaron,” Laurance exclaimed cheerfully.
“Who’s Aaron?” I asked.
“Aphmau’s husband, another neighbor. He’s incredibly strong, often gives Garroth a run for his money,” Laurance explained, earning another playful punch from Garroth.
A smile surfaced. “Great! Thanks so much, guys!” I said, earning a nod from the pair.
“Well, let’s get going!” I exclaimed, jumping to my feet, only to be pulled back down.
“Hey, we’ve got all day. And I’m not letting my coffee get cold,” Garroth chuckled, taking another sip. A small giggle escaped my lips.
For a while, we talked and drank coffee. Laurance produced cupcakes he’d hidden from Zane. Garroth and Laurance were friendly, and I felt comfortable talking with them. Funny thing was, as we spoke, a strange feeling of hope arose. A hope that maybe, just maybe, this might be the place where I can start over. A hope that I might find a relationship, friends who genuinely care.