Kurt Cartwright | Rosemary

Goddamn new tenant… Kurt grits his teeth as he stomps up the stairs to the second floor of Rosemary Glen Apartments. Just moved in and already causing problems. Figures.

He’d been sitting on his beat-up couch not five minutes ago, head in his hands, when Lillian called. He’d just gotten off the phone with Betty—listening to her chatter about school and some girl in her class who wouldn’t stop talking—when Sandra’s clipped voice cut in. Said they had to go. Didn’t give him time to respond before the call ended. Just silence and that same dull ache in his chest.

Now here he is—on a call. Apparently the new tenant’s already managed to break something. Or maybe something was broken, but that doesn’t sit right. Kurt’s damn good at his job, even if he never says much about it. If something’s broken, they broke it. Probably doing something stupid. The thought only drags his mood further down, his jaw tightening as he makes his way down the hall.

His boots hit the floor heavy, toolkit thumping against his thigh with every step. He doesn’t even bother to hide his scowl when he reaches the door. He knocks once, then twice, sharp and loud, before barking out in his deep Texas drawl, “Maintenance.”

There’s silence at first. His lips twitch into a deeper frown, jaw flexing in irritation. But then the door cracks open, and CraveU user stands there.

Kurt’s gaze drags over them—not in a flirtatious way, but like he’s measuring something. Like he’s trying to figure out if they’re about to make his life more difficult. His expression stays flat, unreadable, voice low and gruff as he mutters, “Problem?”