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punkchestnuts · 6 months

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one door closes and another one opens

part 1, crossposted at ao3

The door to the apartment is locked and the key that she has, the one she’s been using for the majority of their lease, isn’t working. Hilal has half the mind to break the door down in sheer frustration and impatience. But there's a number of things that stops her from actually doing it. She's listing them all in her mind to quell the building anger at her door.

Reason number one: she’s dead tired from working an almost two-day shift at the hospital and that she’s seconds away from collapsing, which leads to…

Reason number two: she doesn't actually have the strength to break the door down even if she wanted to.

Reason number three: the landlord would be furious about his door being broken down, and

Reason number four: breaking down a door would only mean extra expense. There’s only so much she can spare in terms of money with her meager salary, and she barely has any savings for other stuff she wants to buy (like a new phone since her current one is old and its battery barely lives past half a day even at full charge). And…

Reason number five: She doesn’t want to have Yildiz, her sister, chip in by replacing the door when she earns almost as much as Hilal does. She’s aware of how stressed Yildiz is with the expenses at home, especially since they’ve been planning on moving to a better place. (They’re trying, really. But working as nurses in a country where healthcare workers are being paid shit wages complicates things. It’s also their sheer stubbornness and principles that keep them from going abroad despite how many people encourage them to do so. The idea is tempting, that’s for sure. But here is where their home is, where their family is, and where they know they can make the biggest difference.)

It's the fifth reason which stops her really. Yildiz is her older sister and although they bicker and fight like any other pair of siblings, Hilal doesn't want to be a burden than she already feels.

See, Hilal isn’t as inclined as Yildiz in maintaining a cozy and clean home. Hilal always has her things strewn about the apartment, always reasoning that she has many things that needed her focus and attention more (which is always effective in making her older sister look at her disbelief--they had the same job after all, and Yildiz was able to do her part of the chores).

But if you were to cite the differences between the sisters, you’d have to include the fact that Hilal has a laser-sharp focus and Yildiz had a better grip on multitasking. While Yildiz is able to clean the kitchen and answer work calls, Hilal is only able to accomplish one of those things in the belief that it’s better to do something with all your attention to the task rather than have it divided.

That kind of mentality often results in Hilal’s things cluttering about the apartment and on the furniture, unfinished coffee on possibly every surface, and her books abandoned in unlikely places. (Yildiz once found a copy of A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy in their washer. When asked how it got there, Hilal was just as confused as her older sister was.)

It’s not that Yildiz has never tried to instill the habit of cleaning into Hilal, there were efforts and there were improvements. Still, Hilal manages to forget. She’s a lot more understanding than before though, (it caused a lot of arguments and fighting when they started living together), and a lot more inclined to do what Yildiz asks her to do. (She doesn’t question or complain when her sister reminds her to do the dishes or fold their laundry.)

In summary, Yildiz has unending tolerance and patience for Hilal and it only seems fair to make things easier for the both of them by not breaking someone else's property.

So no. She’s not breaking down the door despite the overwhelming urge to. Instead, she tries the key again. Their front door does this sometimes. But it takes a few tries of the key to get it open. Sometimes it also takes a heavy push against the door to get the lock unhinge.

The building is old, and so are the rooms and doors inside. Everything is being maintained and repaired by the landlord who is probably just as old as the building is–which just means to say, very old. The landlord has shown a propensity to disfavor newer tools and technology. The light fixtures are outdated, the window panes are barely hanging on for dear life, the floors creak, and the wooden doors are actually peeling (there are only a few doors left that has some of the original paint).

The only things that seem to be up to date were the elevator and the heating system, which is something that became the deciding factor when Yildiz and Hilal were first looking for an apartment years ago. It had either been this apartment or the other one that required them to climb four flights of stairs. The decision was easy.

Hilal has been trying to open the door for more than 20 minutes and she’s too tired to try any further. With a sigh, she relents and goes to the landlord’s apartment on the first floor. Sometimes the door is stubborn and the lock remains unperturbed. When this happens, they get the landlord to open it since he has a magical way of making things work despite how broken they seem. This is the main reason why the landlord doesn’t really change things. He holds the principle of not replacing things when they’re still fully (relatively) functional.

There had been a time when Yildiz and Hilal got fed up and offered to pay for a new replacement for the door, but the landlord refused, saying that it wasn’t right and that replacing the door would alter the building's overall atmosphere. A few more rejections to have it replaced moved the sisters to actually start looking at other apartments.

She knocks on the landlord’s door and is opened by his daughter. She's a beautiful petite woman with short dark hair and cat-like eyes. Hilal remembers meeting her the first time when she and Yildiz were moving in. Hilal immediately admired the woman and her patience for her father, which the sisters quickly learned to have his own unique eccentricities.

Eftalya sighs when she sees it’s Hilal. Unfortunately, because of the near impossible structure of their schedules, they don’t usually come knocking Eftalya’s door for social calls. Hilal can only smile at the older woman.

There's flour on Eftalya’s forehead and even more on her arms and clothes. “Is it your door again?” she asks instead of a greeting and Hilal nods, feeling a little bad for interrupting what looks like a baking session.

“I got home over 20 minutes ago,” Hilal explains.

The older woman dusts the flour on her hands. “Wait here and I’ll call for Dad.” She leaves the door open when she steps away from the doorway. Hilal can hear a muffled argument inside and she doesn’t try to make out the words being exchanged.

Her and Yildiz have witnessed enough arguments between father and daughter throughout the years that they’ve learned to just drown it out when it happens. It’s those moments that Hilal is grateful for Eftalya’s eerie ability to convince her father to do anything. (And Hristos, the landlord, has always been stubborn. He always finds ways to justify his decisions, and to find fault in whatever argument coming his way. With Eftalya though, he seems to relent and agree with the faults in his argument that his daughter points out. Never mind that Hilal and Yildiz would point it out first.)

She was even the reason there was an elevator and a heating system in the building in the first place.

The one thing that Eftalya wasn’t able to accomplish was to have Hilal and Yildiz’s request to replace their front door. Hristos has put his foot down on that one and not even Eftalya can change his mind. They can’t exactly go behind his back either, even if Eftalya almost convinced the sisters to do just that.

The woman is persuasive if she wants to be, and it’s probably a good thing to have when you work as a singer at a bar. You have to charm your way into your audience if you wanted a heavy tip.

The muffled arguments dies down and Hristos walks towards the door with his old toolbox.

"Thank you, Papa," Eftalya calls out from inside. She’s probably back at the kitchen. "Although, you know you wouldn't have to keep going up if you just replace the door knobs!"

Mr. Hristos huffs and steps out of the apartment. “Those door knobs are a piece of history, you know?”

“That’s exactly why you need to replace them!”

Mr. Hristos doesn’t reply and closes the door instead. “Hello, Hilal,” he greets her. “Did you just get home from work?”

“Yes, I did,” she says and forces herself not to say that she hasn’t slept in two days and that she’s this close to collapsing to heap of pure exhaustion. After all, despite how eccentric and stubborn the old man is, he’s been nothing but very kind to Hilal and Yildiz.

Mr. Hristos smiles in understanding and walks up to the elevator. Hilal follows and answers appropriately when the old man asks about her day. She doesn’t say that she just came from a graveyard shift and had to stay when an accident involving a full bus occurred early in the morning yesterday.

She would have stayed for another day if not for the head nurse noticing her lagging behind and drinking cups upon cups of the disgusting coffee they had in the lounge. Hilal couldn’t say no and couldn’t force herself to stay even if she wanted to. The patients were stable, the other casualties from the accident were brought to other hospitals, and everyone knows she’s been there for more than 48 hours with no sleep and proper food.

(It’s a good thing that Yildiz doesn’t work at the same hospital as she does. Her older sister would surely get angry and would have dragged her to a cab home herself. Yildiz was always better at self-care than Hilal ever was.)

They get to their door and Mr. Hristos doesn’t waste time asking her if she’s done all she could to try and get the door to open. The old man knows that Hilal is headstrong and would ask for help as a last resort.

She watches Mr. Hristos bend down to open the door with his own key and tutting when it wouldn’t budge. He opens his box and begins tinkering with the faulty knob.

Hilal doesn’t bother watching what he’s doing since she’s long accepted the fact that even if she were to replicate whatever troubleshooting method the old man has done, it won’t matter because the doors have spirits of their own and only bow down to one man.

Instead, she leans heavily on the wall by the door to let Hristos work. Without the frustration fueling her, she can feel the past two days catching up to her body. Her bag feels heavier than it is, her skin feels sticky (and she tried cleaning herself with a pack of wipes back at the hospital once), her head aches from how tight she’s tied her hair up, and her eyes burn.

She can feel herself falling asleep then and there when she hears a the old man curse loudly. Mr. Hristos is in the middle of taking the entire knob out of the door.

“Do you need help, Mr. Hristos?” she asks, preparing to yank the knob out of the door and go directly bed.

“No,” he says and tries one last tug before sighing. He looks up at her from where he’s kneeling. “I’m afraid the knobs rusted itself glued to the door. I can’t take it out.”

“What can we do?” she asks, a mental image of both of them breaking the door down making itself welcome in her mind. “Can’t we oil it out?”

“We can, but that would mean taking the door out of the frame.”

“Can’t we take unscrew the hinges out?” she suggests.

“We can,” he says again, “but that would mean having to screw it back up again just to lock it, and I don’t want to do that every time you girls have to go out.”

“Well, I can’t exactly stay out of the apartment. I’m tired and I need to sleep,” she says, not at all caring anymore if she’s being rude. “I’ll just put up a curtain.”

Mr. Hristos tuts and bends down to firmly attach the door knob back. “No, I’m afraid the entire door has to be replaced. The knob won’t budge.”

Hilal doesn’t feel relieved that the old man is finally seeing sense to replace the door. “Then what are we going to do? I have to get into the apartment, Mr. Hristos.”

“I can take the door out of the hinges and while I can put it back, you’ll be shut inside. I don’t even want to let you leave your apartment open to the entire floor if I do take it out. It’s a security issue, dear. It’s safer to keep it locked until I get a replacement.”

“You’re basically locking me out of my home, Mr. Hristos.”

The old man smiles in apology. “I know, but it’s all for the good of the building and everyone in it.”

“I don’t exactly have anywhere else to go.”

“Well, you can stay with us for a while, if you’d like. But Eftalya has another shift at the bar and tonight’s BINGO night. If not, the motel a few blocks down is a good place too.”

Hilal can feel something weighing her down even more. “How long will it take until you find a replacement? I have to tell Yildiz in case she comes home early.”

Hristos hums. “It will take a while. Not a lot of companies still make this kind of knobs. Not to mention, I’d have to look for someone who can replicate the door design…”

“Is it really necessary to get a door that’s exactly the same when we can get a temporary one just for the security?”

Hristos tuts at her. “It’s not exactly economical if we buy a door and a knob just for them to get replaced, Hilal.”

“Is there no other way?” she asks. She can try to convince him, but she’s honestly too tired to do argue any further.

“Look, Hilal,” Mr. Hristos rubs at his temple as if he’s the one being inconvenienced. “I understand your frustration, but this is the best way to secure your safety and to continue the integrity of the building. Now, will you be staying with us or will you be staying elsewhere?”

Now the most practical choice here is to actually take up the old man’s offer and stay at their place. Eftalya and Mr. Hristos won’t be there so it won’t be awkward than it needs to be. But Hilal doesn’t want to be practical at the moment, especially when her frustration at the old man is growing exponentially by the second.

“Thank you for the offer, Mr. Hristos. I don’t want to impose on you and Eftalya.”

“Alright, then,” Mr. Hristos nods. “I’m sorry for this, but I promise I’ll work on it as fast as I can.”

“Thanks, Mr. Hristos.”

She watches the old man disappear into the elevator and Hilal takes this moment to sag against the wall. Defeat and exhaustion weighing her down even more. She lets herself feel tired for a while before taking her phone out to shoot a text to her sister about their situation. Hilal knows that Yildiz has a shift until the next morning but her older sister is fond of overtiming and offsetting her hours. At the very least, Yildiz can crash at one of the bunk beds at work. She only hopes that her sisters sees the text soon.

Although sleeping on the hallways and say fuck it, is very tempting at the moment, Hilal stands up and leaves the building. She decides to stay at a nearby cafe just to gather her energy reserves. The motel Mr. Hristos had been talking about was a walkable distance but even a couple of blocks seems too much an effort in Hilal’s state.

She’s sipping on a fruit-berry black tea after eating an almond croissant, when she gets a reply from her sister.

Yildiz: You’re not staying at the motel.

You can crash at Ali Kemal’s place.

I just texted him and he’s not on duty now.

Also, as bad as this situation is, I’m glad the door’s finally getting fixed.

Hilal: And where else am I going to stay?

Her sister doesn’t reply until Hilal has finished her tea.

Yildiz: You can crash at Ali Kemal’s place.

I just called him and he’s okay with you staying while the door’s getting fixed.

Hilal: Isn’t he on duty now?

Yildiz: No, I wouldn’t call him if I knew he was.

Her phone suddently vibrates at a new text message.

Ali Kemal: it’s OK, ur not inconveniencing me. just come over.

n yes, ur sister told me 2 tell u

but it doesn’t make it less tru

Hilal sometimes hate how her sister knows her too well. Yildiz knows that Hilal will always try not to impose on other people, especially when it comes to her own issues. She would’ve argued with Yildiz about staying at the motel instead, but if she is honest with herself, staying with Ali Kemal (who was a close friend) sounds more appealing than staying alone at a motel. She texts her sister.

Hilal: Okay. Thanks for making the call.

Yildiz: No problem. Rest well, and let’s hope Hristos finishes the freaking door before my shift.

She takes that as a finality and begins to gather her things. She’s doesn’t have the energy to argue with her sister and Ali Kemal even if she didn’t want to.

She tells Ali Kemal she’s on her way and hails a cab to his place. His place is a lot further than the motel, but she just doesn’t feel like commuting (she feels like collapsing in the middle of the road, really).

Ali Kemal is a very good friend of Yildiz. They met in the same community college where Yildiz was taking her nursing degree and Ali Kemal was taking a course program to train as a paramedic. Hilal has met him a few times at parties and other events she attended with Yildiz, and she’s come to know Ali Kemal as serious and having a dark sense of humor.

He looks too serious (see: unapproachable) to be a paramedic, but at the same time does look like someone who won’t mind a little mess when he’s busy applying gauze and stopping wounds from bleeding too much.

He looks like someone who can kill as much as he can save people, and Hilal found the irony daunting. Yildiz only thought it was a reason to tease the man even more.

But with the amount of time Hilal’s got to know him, she’s come to realize that Ali Kemal is a sweet and kind person.(She also had the suspicion that he had (has?) a crush on Yildiz for a while, but she never got to ask him if it was (or is) true.)

The ride to his place was short. The building is slightly better than the one the sisters were staying in: it wasn’t as old and rickety. Besides that, there aren’t big differences. The neighbors were nice, the neighborhood had a convenience store, a laundromat, and a nearby bus stop, and the rent was reasonable — all things that can be found in the sisters’ current building. The only edge that Ali Kemal’s place had over theirs was the fact that his front door doesn’t fail at being a door as often as the sisters’ do.

Ali Kemal buzzes her in before she could ring his doorbell, and Hilal appreciates that he’d been looking out for her arrival. She gets to his apartment and he greets her with a smile and his uniform on.

“Did you just step out of your shift?” she asks as he welcomes her inside.

“No,” Ali Kemal says. “I’m not supposed to be on duty today. Day off, supposedly. But a coworker called in a favor I can’t back down from.” He gestures her to sit on the couch and disappears into the kitchen. There is a small pile of blankets and a fluffy pillow there.

“I can look for a different place to stay,” Hilal offers but the older man comes out of the kitchen with a look of disapproval and a glass of water.

“You’re more than welcome to stay, Hilal.” She’s forced to accept the glass of water and finally sit down on the couch. “I’m only covering them for the rest of their shift anyway.”

“Oh okay.”

“I’m serious. I’m not turning you away when you literally look like you’re about to keel over, and especially when Yildiz already told me about what happened.” Ali Kemal looks at her right in the eye when he says this, arms akimbo. “Now, I hadn’t been able to clean out the guest room but the couch is yours. I also don’t have much in terms of food but I figured you’d be doing more sleeping than eating.”

Hilal snorts. “Yeah, you’d be right.”

Ali Kemal smiles in sympathy. “You’re also free to use the bathroom too if you want to wash up before sleeping. I put some extra clothes and and toothbrush in there.”

She almost cries at this. “Thank you so much for doing this, Ali Kemal. I totally owe you one.”

The man ruffles her hair as he’s wont to do ever since they bonded over their mutual hate for this one instructor they had the (dis)pleasure of having a class in. (She remembers the conversation vividly since it was over bad coffee in the same apartment. The coffee was from the vending machine at the hospital Ali Kemal and Yildiz worked at. It was another thing they agreed on.) Hilal swats his hand away when a lively guitar riff starts playing. Ali Kemal curses as he checks the watch on his wrist. “Oh shit, lemme take this.”

He fishes his phone out of his pocket before he walks to the kitchen to answer the call. Hilal takes this time to send another text to Yildiz that she’s at Ali Kemal’s. Her sister doesn’t reply but Hilal only thinks her sister has gone back to work.

Ali Kemal walks back to the living room. “Yeah, sorry, that was the friend I’m covering for. I have to go.”

“Okay, have fun at work.”

“Sure,” he says as he picks up a jacket on the coffee table. “I’ll try to come back early and with some food, hopefully.”

“And if you do come back early, don’t wake me up.”

Ali Kemal laughs. “Sure thing. Make yourself at home and all that, and if anything happens then just shoot me a text.” He checks his watch again. “And now I really have to go.”

“I can handle myself just fine. Just go and thank you again.”

He shoots her a finger gun before grabbing a bag from the hallway and leaving the apartment.

Hilal is alone now and although she never recalls the couch being so comfortable before (and she doesn’t want anything more than to just sleep there and then). But she did just come out of a two-day (one can argue a near three-day) shift and she has the urge to wash off the two-day sweat out of every surface inch of her. So with a lot of willpower, she drags herself away from the couch and heads to the bathroom.

True enough, there is a set of clothes on the counter along with a white fluffy towel and a toothbrush that’s still in the packet. She doesn’t really mind the strong-scented products Ali Kemal uses, but she does scrunch her nose when she sees he uses 2-in-1 shampoo. Somehow, she’s not really surprised.

She changes into the clothes he’s prepared for her and makes a beeline for the couch. She usually lets her hair air dry, but this is one of those instances where she doesn’t care what her hair may look like after. She makes a small nest of blankets and pillows (she grabs some of the throw pillows from the other chairs) and falls asleep instantly once she lies down.

#Hilal #leon #hileon #hilal x leon #vatanim sensin #wounded love #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3fanfic

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