“Derek Dillisburgh.” Pete huffed. He tossed his keys from one hand to the other, almost missing his finger by a few inches each time. “More like Derek Dildo.” A five year old knew better insults than that and yet Pete was surprisingly proud of himself. With a smile he struck his tongue out at the doorbell nameplate. Pete was a twenty-five year old resident in his dormitory and he’s had enough of his neighbour. He had never seen Derek before but every night he started playing loud music. How he hated this guy. Whoever he was. Pete was currently in his last year and desperately tried to finish his studies. He already started later than most students because he used to work at a coffee shop to save up the rent for his dormitory room. Now with only a few final exams left he was completely stressed out by the workload and that’s exactly when his neighbour decided to get on his nerves as well. Aside from nagging professors and an overprotective best friend, he didn’t need another disruption to his peaceful life. He just wanted to study for one night with no music. One night. Was that too much to ask for?

Apparently. As soon as Pete sat down and opened his essay on fictional villains in the 19th century and how they shaped modern literature, Katy Perry was blasting from next door. ‘I kissed a Girl’ out of all songs. The ultimate disturbance for a gay man. This should be a hate crime, Pete thought. This Derek guy was annoying him on purpose. It’s been going on for more than a week now. At one point Pete had to burst. “By the Honour of Mary Shelley, I will NOT let this brat torment me any longer.” He blew a kiss to a picture of Oscar Wilde and fixed his clothes before angrily rushing out of his room. In front of Dildo’s door he hesitated. The music was even louder here. How did no one else get irritated by this guy? Get it together Pete, you can do this. Just knock.

He braced himself for all types of scenarios; A hot twenty year old working out to a queer playlist to get the attention of his hot gay neighbour – which was the least possible but most wanted explanation for this torture –, a less hot guy working out to a queer playlist so he can become the hot guy and ask his even hotter neighbour out – again, not very likely but a man can dream. As soon as the door opened however all these scenarios left Pete’s head and he stared at the man in front of him with wide eyes and a slightly opened mouth. “Can I help you?” “Holy shit.” Pete gasped. “How old are you?” Derek frowned. He seemed to be used to getting this question but that didn’t mean he appreciated it. “Thirty-three. Is that all?” Thirty-three. Pete examined Derek with shock still. The man in front of him looked ancient. His black hair was interrupted by single gray strands, his face was wrinkled, especially with his grim expression but his body was so much different than you’d imagine from a man his age. He looked fit. Healthy and most certainly big. There was no sweat so he probably didn’t work out in the middle of the night to impress Pete but something was very queer about him anyway.

“May Lord Byron help me.” Pete muttered under his breath and took a careful step back. “You’re an utterly attractive fiend.”