fire escape
FRANK
He sat on the fire escape outside his apartment, his legs dangling over the edge as he listened to the city below. The nighttime symphony of honking horns, distant sirens, and faint conversations from the street was familiar, almost comforting. It was a rare moment of stillness, where the noise outside helped quiet the chaos inside.
Then he heard it—sharp, uneven breathing that didn't belong to the usual city sounds. He froze, listening closer. The sound came again, followed by a faint, muffled noise that made his chest tighten. His gaze shifted to the neighboring fire escape, where his new neighbor's window stood open, and watched as the room filled with light, its soft warmth spilling into the night.
He saw her shadow move against the wall inside, a figure approaching the window with hesitant, shaky steps. Her breathing sounded heavier now, almost like she was trying to steady herself. His jaw tightened as he watched, an instinct to do something flickering in his mind. But instead, he turned his gaze away, staring back out at the city as though he hadn't noticed a thing.
RUBY
Ruby pressed her palms against the windowsill, her breaths ragged as she fought to calm down. The nightmare still clung to her, vivid and suffocating, like it had dragged her halfway back to the life she'd left behind. She'd hoped she could move past this, that moving and distracting herself with a busy job would prevent the nightmares-- but they hadn't stopped.
The cool night air was a small relief, sharp against her flushed skin. She leaned into it, staring down at the quiet street below, when her gaze shifted and caught on the fire escape next to hers.
He was there, sitting still with his back against the metal, legs dangling. His head was turned toward the skyline, and his posture seemed relaxed, though his presence carried that quiet intensity he always had.
Her chest tightened. Had he heard her? She stayed frozen, watching him for a few moments. He didn't move, didn't glance her way, giving no indication that he'd noticed anything.
Ruby let out a small, shaky breath and pulled back from the window. She slid it shut with care, tugging the blinds closed before retreating to her bed. Curling into the blankets, she told herself it didn't matter if he had heard.
She always slept with the window open, ever since she was a kid. She couldn't sleep if the room was silent; she needed to hear any sort of noise to fall asleep. In the city, you could get all the sound you'd ever need just by leaving the window open a crack. She disliked the idea of having it closed even now, muffling those sounds a bit, but she knew it was unlikely she'd get sleep even with it open.
Ruby lay on her side, staring at the faint cracks on her ceiling as the city hummed outside her window. The distant honking of taxis and the occasional rumble of a subway train usually made her feel safe—like she was hidden in the endless noise. But tonight, those sounds couldn't chase away the lingering dread.
Her heart still thudded uncomfortably in her chest, the images from her nightmare flashing behind her closed eyes whenever she tried to relax. She rolled onto her back and exhaled, trying to shake off the feeling.
It had been two years since she'd last seen the man in her nightmare. In person, that is— he showed up in nightmares quite often. Two years since she'd stood trembling in that courtroom, her voice breaking as she testified. Even now, she could hear the slam of the gavel, the whispers of strangers, and the hollow look in his eyes as the sentence was read.
She'd thought it would be enough. Moving across the country, changing her name, starting over. But her nightmares didn't care about restraining orders or prison bars. Ted was always there, waiting just beyond the edges of her mind, ready to pull her back into that suffocating life.
Ruby sighed and sat up, drawing her knees to her chest. New York City had been her fresh start, her chance to build a life that was hers alone. It wasn't easy—the noise, the chaos, the way people brushed past each other like shadows. But she liked it. She liked the anonymity, the feeling of being a single face in an endless crowd. No one here knew her story unless she told them.
Her fingers traced the edge of the blanket as her gaze drifted toward the now-closed blinds. She couldn't shake the memory of her neighbor sitting on his fire escape, the faint glow of the city outlining his figure. He seemed so unbothered, so sure of himself. She envied that.
A creak sounded from somewhere in the building, the old pipes groaning as if in pain. She was still getting used to all the sounds the building made, which ones were mechanical and which ones were footsteps in the hallway. Which sounds came from the old fridge, and which sounds came from the apartment above her.
There were other sounds to get used to outside of her apartment, too.
She had lived in bigger cities before, but she always forgot about the people. Everywhere she went, people surrounded her, talking on their phones, playing music on speakers, hailing cabs, shouting about the goods they were selling... there were a lot of people in this city. A lot of people, and not nearly enough animals. And while she valued the feeling of safety being hidden in one of the busiest cities in the country, it meant she had much more contact with people. People were so unpredictable, and that was what stressed her out about them. That's what she found so comforting in animals: their consistent behavior. Their predictability.
Ruby thought about the stray cat that sometimes waited for her on the corner near work, and the one that frequented the alleyway outside the apartment building, as well as the German Shepard that lived in a yard near the coffee shop. Always happy to see her; always the same interaction. It was something she missed about her old life-- she had almost always had a pet around. She was used to a dog greeting her when she came home from work. People exhausted her. She had to remember to make enough eye contact, to use the right tone of voice, to act the right way. There was so much acting and pretending with humans. She appreciated the way that animals just understood her.
Even though she couldn't have an animal in this pet-free apartment, she got plenty of interactions with animals through her work at the animal hospital. She did good work, helping people's beloved pets. It gave her purpose, it helped her feel like she had a reason to be here. That's all she wanted to focus on now, finding herself again. Build a routine, get settled in her new home, fall in love with her hobbies again, and focus on herself.
Those were the things that mattered now. Not him. Not the past. She repeated the thought like a mantra until her body sank deeper into the mattress, her breaths finally evening out a bit.
Even after she was able to calm down from the nightmare, she never did find sleep again that night. After grabbing a snack from the kitchen, she settled herself on the windowsill in the dark living room. It was never fully dark at night in New York City, with all the streetlights and headlights that flickered across the windows. That was okay with Ruby, as she had never liked the dark anyways. It didn't terrify her, but she preferred being able to see her surroundings.
Her focus was drawn from the window as she heard muffled shouting. It was coming from the apartment next door—her neighbor's apartment. The low rumble of one voice contrasted sharply with another, louder one that sounded angry but controlled. Ruby couldn't make out the words, but the intensity of the argument sent a twinge of unease through her.
She froze for a moment, her hand hovering on the windowsill, before slowly standing and walking toward the shared wall. Pressing her ear to it, she caught snippets of their conversation.
"You don't get to make those kinds of decisions." The voice was sharp, firm.
"You know it had to be done, Red. He can't be allowed to keep doing this bullshit," growled the other voice—the deep, gravelly tone unmistakably belonging to her neighbor.
There was another burst of shouting, but the words blurred together, too muffled for her to follow. Ruby's curiosity burned, but the raw anger in their tones made her uneasy. She took a step back from the wall just as the argument hit its climax.
"You don't listen, do you Frank?" one of them snapped, followed by a harsh laugh. "You never do."
"I'm done," the lower voice said.
A door slammed with a force that made Ruby jump. Her heart raced as the sound echoed through the thin walls. After a moment of silence, she tiptoed toward her own front door.
She pressed her eye to the peephole. Her view was limited, but she caught sight of a man walking briskly away from her neighbor's door.
He wore a crisp suit that fit him perfectly, the kind of look that screamed authority despite its simplicity. What caught her attention most, though, were the dark-tinted glasses perched on his face, even though it was well past three in the morning.
Ruby furrowed her brow, watching as he disappeared around the corner. A wave of confusion washed over her. The man didn't seem rattled or panicked, just... determined. Whoever he was, he wasn't the kind of person she expected to find arguing with her quiet, brooding neighbor.
However, it did give her a name: Frank. The man in the suit had called her neighbor Frank. She mulled this new information over as she wandered back to the bedroom, grabbing her bag of crackers from off the kitchen counter as she passed by. Being up all night can really make a person hungry.