The walls of my apartment are paper thin.

To the right, I can always hear Mr. Schweiger yelling on the phone. At any given time during the afternoon, I can always be guaranteed to hear Schweiger yelling on the phone through the apartment walls. Whether he's yelling in German or English, in the room adjacent to my apartment or the complete opposite side, I can always hear him screaming at the poor person on the other line.

On top of my apartment is Joan, quite possibly the sweetest old lady I've ever met in my life. Joan was quiet and soft-spoken, and whenever I stopped by her apartment to say hi, she always had a plate of cookies at the ready. Joan was an obsessive cleaner, which meant that at all ungodly hours of the night - like right now, at two in the morning - I could hear her vacuuming right above my head.

And to the left of me is Griffin Cutkosky.

Griffin was my age - twenty - and sometimes I forgot he even lived next door to me. Griffin's apartment was always quiet, save for the rare times when I could actually hear him pacing around his apartment at the middle of the night. Griffin was always out of his apartment early in the morning and back in it late at night, when I had already laid down for bed. Griffin was like a ghost; he came and went, and never left any evidence that he had been there in the first place.

Tonight was different.

Aside from the noise of Joan vacuuming, I could hear Griffin banging on the the wall - I couldn't tell which wall, but it was so loud I could hear it. It had been going on for a good five minutes, and after the long string of profanities I heard him shout a minute ago, I was shocked that no one had complained or came up to silence him.

I was usually tolerant of my neighbors making noise. I could deal with Schweiger screaming on the phone when I came home from afternoon classes, and had learned to sleep through Joan's midnight cleaning sprees. But Griffin's bangs were echoing through my bedroom, and with every loud 'fuck' he shouted, I found myself tossing and turning again.

I was out of bed before I realized what I was doing, combing my fingers through my hair as I trudged through my apartment. I grabbed a hoodie off the back of my couch and tugged it on, pausing by the door to stuff my feet into a pair of old slippers. I instinctively grabbed my keys off the plate before putting them in my pocket and walking out of my apartment.

I turned to the left, pausing when I saw Griffin standing outside his apartment. Griffin's usually combed hair was a mess on his head, pushed back from his face as his fists slammed against the apartment door. His head was resting against the door, but I could make out the curses he was letting out. Griffin's shirt was halfway unbuttoned, and I paused, caught between going back into my apartment or helping.

My eyes landed on a small pile of metal by his feet, letting out a deep breath when I realized it was Griffin's key-chain. I slowly walked over, aware of the fact that Griffin hadn't even realized I had come out, and picked up the few keys on the chain. I stood back up and tapped Griffin's shoulder, taking a step back when he whirled towards me, ice blue eyes locking on my own.

Griffin's shoulders were tense, posture rigid as he looked at me, but that wasn't what I noticed. I noticed the dark, almost purple, bags under his eyes. I had seen tired people - I went to college - but Griffin looked bordering on exhausted and about-to-fall-asleep where he stood. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy, but I found it hard to believe that he had been crying.

"Um," I muttered, grip tightening around the key chain. I swallowed and stood up a little straighter, holding the keys out to Griffin, who made no move to grab them, "I think you might have dropped these."

"I meant to throw them."

I blinked in surprise at Griffin's words, dropping my outstretched arm when he continued to make no move for the keys. We stood in silence for a few minutes, Griffin's blue eyes staying locked on mine. I couldn't help but notice the small bruises forming on his knuckles from where he had been banging on his door.

I rocked back-and-forth on my heels, a part of me wishing that I hadn't actually come out to help, "You kind of need them to get into your apartment." I softened my voice and held out the keys again, "Seriously, apartment security or something is going to come up here if you keep banging on your door."

Griffin blinked at me and tugged his fingers through his dirty blond hair, a look of annoyance on his face, "Sure," he agreed, "Then maybe they can give me a key that actually works."

I frowned and looked down at the key, twisting the two he had on his chain between my fingers, "They look okay to me."

Griffin took a step back from the door, shoes dragging along the floor as he walked backwards. I watched in surprise, but Griffin abruptly stopped and held out a hand, fingers pointing towards the door. I just stood there, wondering if Griffin would even notice if I dropped his keys and backed up into my aparment. I was thinking about it, but was cut short when he spoke again.

"Be my guest," Griffin said, making me just stare at him in confusion. Griffin sighed, eyes half-lidded as he pointed to the doorknob, "Really, I'll be in your debt if you can make them work."

I felt awkward as I walked forward, Griffin's keys swinging from my fingers. I paused in front of his door and turned around to face him again, "I'm only doing this so you'll stop banging on your door and I can get some sleep."

Griffin didn't answer, so I turned back to the door and stuck the first key into the hole. It went half in before locking, so I pulled back and grabbed the other key, sticking it into the bottom hole. I twisted the key and stood up, pulling the doorknob and letting Griffin's door swing open. I stepped back and held Griffin's keys out to him, happy when he actually accepted them and stuffed the keys into his pocket.

"Thanks," Griffin muttered, and it was then that I noticed how badly his hands were shaking at his sides. Griffin clenched his hands into fists, and I looked back up to meet his gaze, "I, um, couldn't get them in."

"No problem," I replied, stuffing my hands into the pocket of my hoodie. A silence had settled over us - an uncomfortable one that left me taking a few steps back towards my apartment, "I'm gonna go to bed. Night, Griffin."

Griffin was halfway inside his apartment before I heard him mumble, "Don't know how you can sleep with Joan night-cleaning, but goodnight, Emmy."

-

I was up early the next morning.

My head was pounding and my eyelids were practically glued shut from complete and utter exhaustion. It took me a good fifteen minutes to even get out of bed, and double that time to actually get dressed, brushed my teeth, and stumble into the kitchen in an exhausted stupor.

I leaned against the kitchen counter and glared at my schoolbag propped up on a chair, surprised the weight of the textbooks didn't crush the chair. I loved college - I really did - but I hated the fact that my first lecture started at eight in the morning, and I lived a half-hour away from college. I thought morning classes would be better, but the constant exhausted state I was in proved me wrong.

I grabbed a cup of coffee and walked into the living room, dropping down onto the couch and sinking into the cushions. I hadn't gotten much sleep last night, but that's because my mind had been focused on something else.

Griffin Cutkosky.

I couldn't help it; I had stayed awake for a good hour after helping him into his apartment, wondering what had happened. I couldn't imagine why Griffin hadn't been able to get his key in the door, or why he looked on the verge of crying when he banged his fist raw against the door. Frankly, I couldn't figure out why he was even coming home that late. I knew Griffin had a job, but I couldn't imagine one that set him home in the middle of the night.

I sighed stood up, running my fingers through my brown hair as I made my way into the kitchen. I put my mug into the sink and grabbed my bag, shouldering it on before grabbing my keys and making my way out of my apartment.

I was so focused on locking my door properly and not falling over from the weight of my bag that I didn't even notice when someone popped up behind me and tapped my shoulder.

My hand flew to my heart and I stumbled backwards, the weight of my bag almost making me topple over. I regained my balance and took deep breaths, eyes landing on the wide-eyed, blue-eyed guy in front of me. I blinked and breathed in slowly, trying to calm my racing heart.

"Jesus Christ," Griffin muttered, a ghost of a smile playing on his thin lips, "Are you okay?"

I put a hand against the wall for balance, "I'm fine," I promised, ignoring the worried and amused look on Griffin's face, "It's really early and usually no one's even up at this time."

Griffin didn't respond, and I took another deep breath, eyes landing on his face. Griffin's blond hair was pushed back in a way that was caught between styled and just rolled out of bed. The bags under his eyes didn't seem as prominent, but they were still there and quite evident. He was standing up straight, hands stuffed in the pocket of his black jeans, but I could see the outline of dark bruises against the tops of his knuckles.

Griffin cleared his throat and I looked back up at him, an awkward silence settling between us. Aside from a few random polite greetings (the occasional "hello" or "hey, how are you doing?"), Griffin and I never really talked except for the other night. Now, however, he seeed determined to get something in.

"I wanted to say thanks," Griffin finally said, running his fingers through his hair. Griffin abruptly dropped his hand and crossed his arms behind his back, "for helping my last night and not calling security or anything. It means a lot. So, uh, thanks for doing that, Emmy."

I couldn't help but smile at that - the fact that Griffin was thanking me for helping him into his apartment last night. Now, as I thought back to the events, it seemed like the only logical thing I could have done. I couldn't have just left him outside, banging on his door and shouting profanities until the apartment complex manager sent someone up to him.

"No problem," I said, walking slowly down the hallway towards the elevator. Griffin trailed behind me, fingers playing with the bottom of his un-tucked shirt, "Are you okay?"

Griffin stopped, and I turned around to look back at him. I wasn't sure what I expected when I turned, but not the complete look of surprise and gratitude on his face. Griffin had a full smile now, blue eyes wide in what I assumed was surprise.

"I'm okay," he told me, putting a hand on my shoulder as he started walking forward. I didn't move; just let Griffin keep his hand there as he walked over to the elevator, "So, I'll see you around?"

I clicked the button for the lobby on the elevator and smiled at Griffin, "We are neighbors. So yeah, you will."

Griffin laughed deeply, a sound so contagious that I found myself laughing quietly as I stepped into the empty elevator. The doors slowly started to close, and I dropped my bag onto the ground, rolling my shoulders in relief. I was about to close my eyes when the doors suddenly opened again to reveal Griffin standing there, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Thank you, Emmy," he repeated, voice filled with such sincerity and genuineness I couldn't even be mad at the fact that he was delaying me, "Seriously, thanks."

"Of course, Griffin."

And with that, Griffin stepped back, letting the doors close slowly close until he vanished out of sight.

</ The first chapter of Blood Sport :-) I'm actually really happy with how this turned out, so please vote and comment and lemme know your thoughts! Since Until The End is ending, I'll be able to update regularly. Thanks :-)

dedicated to kelly for literally helping me with EVERYTHING and being so supportive of the plot and characters and being username brothers tbh