The moment Alex steps foot into their new apartment; they make a solemn vow: **This is a fresh start. No awkward interactions, no embarrassing fumbles—just cool, confident adulthood.

Then, naturally, they fall headfirst into an open box.

It’s the *thud* heard across the neighborhood, and as Alex groans in humiliation, a voice rings out from behind them.

“You okay there, champ?”

Alex freezes. No. It can’t be.

They twist around—only to lock eyes with Ethan. The Ethan. Childhood best friend, first crush, ultimate heartbreaker (okay, fine, Ethan didn’t know about the crush, but still). And he’s standing there with a knowing grin that absolutely says, Yep, I remember you tripping over your own shoelaces in sixth grade.

Alex scrambles to sit up, smoothing down their hair like dignity is still salvageable. “Oh, hey! Long time no see! Totally didn’t just faceplant in a box. That would be ridiculous.”

Ethan laughs. “Right. Just testing the structural integrity of your moving supplies.”

“Exactly.” Alex gives a sharp nod. “Safety first.”

As if the situation couldn’t get worse, the box Alex crashed into—half-full of their things—decides to betray them further. With a soft plop, a middle school diary slips out and lands perfectly at Ethan’s feet.

They both stare at it.

Ethan raises an eyebrow. “Should I be concerned?”

“Nope!” Alex snatches it faster than the speed of regret and shoves it behind their back. “Nothing to see here. Just boring stuff. Absolutely zero pages dedicated to anyone named Ethan.”

Ethan smirks. “That convincing, huh?”

Alex glares. “Do you have somewhere* else to be?”

“Actually,” Ethan gestures to the house next door, “I live here now.”

Alex’s soul ascends.

Of course. Of course. Their fresh start now comes with a front-row seat to past infatuation, long-buried memories, and the walking embodiment of Alex’s middle school diary entries.

Ethan leans against the doorway, arms crossed. “Guess you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.”

Alex groans internally. This is going to be a disaster.

Moving in, Falling Out (of a Box) – Part 2

Alex spends the next few hours aggressively unpacking—not because they’re particularly eager to settle in, but because every box is now an enemy that must be conquered. A distraction from Ethan. From Ethan living next door*.

But fate, as always, has other plans.

Just as Alex is knee-deep in assembling their bookshelf (a process that, judging by the pile of leftover screws, is going **poorly**), there’s a knock at the door.

They freeze.

Please don’t be Ethan.

They open the door.

It’s Ethan.

Fantastic.

Ethan leans casually against the doorframe, holding a pizza box like some kind of peace offering. “Figured you’d be too busy fighting your furniture to cook.”

Alex sighs dramatically. “Are you always going to appear at the exact moment I don’t want you to?”

Ethan grins. “Pretty much.”

Alex considers slamming the door but—pizza. Their stomach makes the decision for them, betraying them with an ill-timed growl.

Ethan lifts the box. “Okay, that was loud. You want a slice?”

With immense reluctance (and an overly dramatic eye-roll for good measure), Alex steps aside to let him in.

As Ethan surveys the apartment, he whistles. “So this is the fresh start, huh?”

Alex flops onto the couch. “Yep. *New place, new me.* No tripping over boxes or embarrassing childhood memories in sight.”

Ethan smirks as he drops onto the opposite end of the couch. “You mean besides the diary incident?”

Alex groans, grabbing a couch pillow and dramatically shoving it over their face. “I will never recover.”

Ethan laughs, flipping open the pizza box and grabbing a slice. “So, what made you move here anyway?”

Alex peeks out from the pillow fortress. “Wanted a change. Fresh start, y’know? Thought I’d finally get my life together, maybe channel some cool adult energy.*”

Ethan snorts. “Cool adult energy? That’s not a thing.”

Alex waves a hand. “It is. I just haven’t mastered it yet.”

They sit in companionable silence, the smell of pizza filling the apartment. And for a moment—just a moment—Alex forgets the sheer absurdity of the situation. That Ethan is next door. That their *crush*—long-buried but apparently not *dead*—is sitting here like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Then Ethan nudges Alex’s foot with his own. “I could help, y’know.”

Alex furrows their brow. “Help with what?”

“Cool adult energy.” Ethan grins. “I mean, I have at least *moderate* adult energy. I could mentor you.”

Alex scoffs. “I don’t need a mentor. What, are you gonna send me inspirational quotes every morning?”

Ethan shrugs. “Couldn’t hurt.”

“I hate this idea.”

“You love this idea.”

Alex groans, grabbing another pillow and tossing it at him. “Fine. Teach me, *oh wise mentor.*”

Ethan catches the pillow easily, smirking. “That’s the spirit.”

Alex sighs. This is going to be a disaster.