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Even before he reached his apartment door he heard loud music coming from somewhere. Max shook his head at what he presumed were his neighbors enjoying themselves. Being stuck at home there was not much one could do after all these months. It soon was going to be a year in lockdown, on curfew, with a steady rise of people dying each day. Maxwell was perhaps a little guilty of causing some of these deaths in recent events as they had started to distribute the fake vaccine which he personally nicknamed Adfauxtex. All that mattered was that it was bringing him some good profit though, despite the losses made. It wasn’t like he was the type to care anyway.

The pharmacist got off work just a little earlier than usual. One of his few employees took over for him. While his pharmacy ran normal business hours he was always available on call in case of emergency. But his second job took a bit more of his time than usual these days. But it was fine. He had nothing to worry about. Perks of being owner and employer for both businesses. Living his best double life. Loved and adored as the pretty bachelor pharmacist who helped people in need and hated as a drug trafficker, wanted by the police, for bringing suffering and death and using it for his own good.

He rubbed his temples as he walked down the corridor, a headache plaguing him since morning. Oh, little did he know, there was an even bigger headache waiting for him - in the only place where he was seeking peace and quietness.

Max wasn’t really sure what to think when he stood in front of his own apartment door, key slid inside the lock. He had yet to turn it, to unlock the door but the music was coming from the other side of it. His eyes found the small number next to the door labeling it as his but yet he was uncertain if it really was his apartment.

Slightly confused, he turned the key and pushed the door open only to be greeted by even louder music blaring from one of the bedrooms and a brunette he had never seen before in his life… welcoming him… home? All he could do was blink at her in even more confusion before he decided to retreat, pull the door close, and stare at it. His eyes found, once again, the number labeling it as his apartment. But was it really? There was someone else inside and he couldn’t remember knowing her. This was his apartment, wasn’t it?

The thought that someone might have pranked him by switching out numbers on the doors occurred to him but he was positive that the furniture he caught a glimpse of was his own. The couch he replaced last year which still had a faint leather scent lingering to it, the two barstools he bought after they got destroyed in an unexpected fierce argument after some junkie decided to show up at his home demanding more of the substances he needed, desperately wanted but of course, Maxwell couldn’t, or rather wouldn’t, help him. His back had cursed him after that incident.

Taking a breather he touched the doorknob, his hand resting on the cool surface before he pushed it open again. This time he stepped inside the apartment, closing the door behind him. The confusion was still apparent on his face but he was more than certain that this belonged to him - all of it. He put on his innocent, boy-next-door smile the elderly as well as mothers who wanted to introduce their daughters to him adored so much and looked at her - the stranger in his home.

“I think you’re in the wrong apartment.” As soon as the words left his lips he took a look around. Yeah, no, this was his apartment. It smelled of men, in a good way, but definitely men. “Probably just some kind of mistake. I can help you carry out your things to the right one.” Because the sooner she left, the better it was for him. Not to mention there were some things hidden from plain sight he didn’t want anyone to find. And despite those things being hidden the danger of someone accidentally stumbling upon them was making him a little tense.

[attr="class","TAG"]Elide Taylor

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He awkwardly stood in his own apartment, taking one more look around to reassure himself. Maxwell expected the woman to take her things and leave, telling him it was just a mistake but instead she got up from the couch where she had made herself comfortable – a little too comfortable for his taste considering it was still his apartment and his couch. Curious eyes followed her as she moved to one of the bedrooms and then waved a lease agreement into his face.

Max took the lease agreement from her hands, though he would have rather ripped it away and then tore it into pieces. His eyes quickly read over the words, all the blablabla he already went through when he signed it. He only paused over her name, written right next to his. He never agreed to anything nor did he ever think his landlord could or would do this. Max wasn't up for an involuntary roommate. No. “You can't stay here,” he sighed, keeping the document. “Hang on a second.” He fished out his phone, scrolling through the tremendous amount of contacts until he found his landlord's number. He pressed the call button, holding the phone against his ear. He was hoping for him to pick up but all he heard was the ringing tone until it went to voicemail. He would need to talk to his landlord tomorrow to clear things up because this was unacceptable.

“I can give you the money you paid in advance and the deposit. I didn’t ask to have my apartment shared with another person nor am I in need of it. It’s probably just a mistake,” he told her, folding the paper twice vertically so it would fit into the pocket of his pants. Max let out yet another sigh, his bright smile vanishing from his face. His fingers reached for his temples which he then rubbed, drawing small circles against the skin. The headache seemed to have disappeared but as soon as she spoke again it reappeared in an instant. He flashed her a smile, followed by a soft chuckle. “To move them out? Sure. Take the coffee as an apology for Mr. Hunt’s mistake.”

Tired eyes anchored on her the moment she started walking back to him, moving around the apartment as if she lived there for years. Apparently, it didn’t take her long to make herself a home inside a stranger’s home, in his home where he kept stuff hidden that wasn’t supposed to be found. Things that could get him into trouble if found. He lowered his gaze to meet hers, the corners of his lips arching back up into a smile. “No, I’m a pharmacist actually. But thank you, although I’m not quite sure if that was a compliment or an insult,” he answered, eyes narrowed softly for a moment.

He took the hand she offered and squeezed it, perhaps a little too strong. A talkative one, he figured. A sardonic, short-lived laugh left his lips at her remark. Didn’t want any surprises. Once he let go of her hand he walked over to his bedroom, taking a quick glance inside before shutting the door. He then made his way over the bedroom she claimed as hers and picked up one of the boxes, taking it back to where she was standing. “So, where do you want me to take this? Your car? Do you want me to call a taxi? The foyer? I'm sure they'll let you store them there for a while.” he asked, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Max wasn’t planning on letting her stay, not even for the night. He would even go through the trouble of getting her a hotel room if necessary, just… anything to get her out.

[attr="class","TAG"]Elide Taylor