Okay, massive note because...well, so many explanations are needed. Starting with where I've been and I've been struggling with a massive case of Writer's Block. And it's Writer's Block across the board, not just with writing fiction. I've hit a blank with everything, including Uni work which is actually sort of frightening because if ever I've needed to be creative, it's this semester. And I just...have nothing. So, I've been studiously chipping away at everything and I'm posting two stories and two chapters to "Some People Care too Much" and, trust me, this has taken me, like six months to write all of them.

Which is ridiculous but there it is, a massive case of Writer's Block happening and I hope that I can kick it soon. Probably after this semester. Maybe.

So I'm really sorry guys!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this new little story. Updates should be weekly. Hopefully. Have an assessment to get done and then one exam - which isn't too bad - and then I'm free! Until next year.

So, I hope you enjoy this little story.

Part I: Dear Motorbike Man

Look, Felicity doesn't begrudge people their lives.

In fact, she quite likes the thought that people all over the world have lives and by having lives, she means that she likes that fact that people go out and do things or have things or think about things that makes them happy.

These things don't have to be completely unique they can be as simple as leaving the house to get a cup of coffee from the place down the road or going to see a movie once a week or only eating mint chip ice-cream.

They're all things that aren't unique on a grand scale but to the person that shuffles out their door to wander down the street for that first sip of coffee, it's absolutely unique to them.

And Felicity loves that.

She really, truly does.

When she thinks about it, it absolutely restores her faith in humanity that people go and live their lives in a way that makes things that are so impersonal be so unique to them. Felicity's pretty sure it's one of the greatest things about humans and she absolutely does not begrudge any human being this.

Except her new neighbor.

Whose thing is a motorbike.

A very loud, very noisy motorbike that wakes her up every single night at three in the morning.

And, on the odd occasion she gets to sleep in, at ten o'clock in the morning when her new neighbor decides to leave.

So, Felicity likes the fact that people have their own things. She's open-minded and absolutely does not begrudge the fact that everyone has a thing that they enjoy.

Unless that thing is a stupidly loud motorbike.

Then, well, she's justified in absolutely not liking it.

At all.

The first time Felicity hears the motorbike, it startles her awake.

It's a roaring noise that she's pretty sure if she were, you know, not asleep she would have heard it from the street corner a few blocks away.

That's how loud the motorbike is.

It takes her a moment of absolute disorientation followed by an incredulous look at her clock – it's three-thirty. In the morning. Why is she even awake? – before she orientates herself enough to realize that the noise is from a motorbike and a spacecraft isn't crashing through her living room.

It takes her another second of thinking before she remembers that Emilia Lee, the divorced forty-something librarian who used to live above her, had moved out of the apartment and in with her new partner a month ago and that the owner of the motorbike is probably the person that has leased Emilia's apartment.

An apartment that comes with a garage directly below Felicity's bedroom.

Which is something that Felicity has honestly never had to think about because Emilia was environmentally conscious and owned a Prius that didn't make sounds similar to a helicopter trying to land outside.

So, she'd never really had a reason to think about the older style design of her apartment building. One built with garages on the ground level and eight decent sized apartments evenly spaced over three levels, bordering the Glades in Starling City. Mostly because when she'd moved in to her apartment, no-one had owned a motorbike and Felicity had honestly never given credence to a hypothetical situation where someone with one would move in.

She's seriously regretting not considering that situation, right now.

Because it's three-thirty on a Sunday morning and she's awake because of that stupid bike.

Felicity wrinkles her a nose a little as it suddenly occurs to her that she's not just drowsy and awake, she's awake and alert which means getting back to sleep is going to be next to impossible now.

Groaning, she makes a face at her dark ceiling and is in the process of considering moving from her bed to make herself a cup of tea when she hears the garage door clang shut followed only a few seconds later by the sound of heavy footsteps.

Seriously. It's so quiet she can hear whoever this neighbor with the motorbike's footsteps as he climbs the stairs to Emilia's apartment.

Which is just great.

Not only is their motorbike ridiculously loud, so are their footsteps.

She may as well go and make that cup of tea. She's definitely not going to go back to sleep now.

Stupid motorbike.

The second time Felicity startles awake because of the bike, she's trying to catch up on the hours of sleep she'd lost on Sunday morning.

As it turns out, having tea wasn't the best idea she'd ever had. She was pretty much awake from the time she had tea to sitting down to Scrubs season one at one o'clock in the afternoon.

Felicity isn't even aware she'd dozed off, curled up and comfortable on the couch as she was, until the motorbike roared to life.

This time Felicity's not just startled awake, she jumps and lands half off her couch.

Which is an elegant motion that she hopes to never repeat because the knee that banged the floor hurts.

As the sound if the motorbike fades away, Felicity rests her head on a cushion and sincerely hopes that she gets used to the sound of this new motorbike.

If she doesn't, well, she can survive on some sleep, right?

As it turns out, Felicity doesn't get used to the roar of the motorbike.

Like, at all.

She doesn't even know if it's because she has an overactive imagination or that she's a light sleeper or because she's decided that she hates that motorbike and she's incapable of not waking up to it now.

But, like clockwork, Tuesday morning to Sunday night, Felicity's startles awake at around three-thirty, sometimes a little later, to the roar of the motorbike and finds herself either staring up at the shadows on the ceiling or getting up and sitting in her kitchen with a cup of tea until she's sleepy enough to go back to bed.

It's actually horrible.

Felicity had a routine before Motorbike Man moved in – she assumes it's a man and she knows she's buying into stereotypes but…she's sleep deprived and, alliteration, okay? – and it was a good routine, one that included eight hours sleep and no motorbike noises and no sitting on her kitchen floor at four in the morning.

Now, Felicity isn't even sure how many hours of sleep she's getting a night and don't even get her started on the amount she's suddenly started spending on tea and she's just tired.

She's so tired and Felicity can't remember the last time she was this tired and it's so irritating and her brain is only functioning at half its usual capacity.

"…and that's how I ended up naked in front of all his roommates and a clown."

"Huh?"

Felicity's head jerks up and she stares in absolute horror at what Sara Lance has just said. Sara blinks back at her innocently and Felicity glances at Caitlin Snow who doesn't appear to be perturbed at all by what the blond has just announced.

Felicity blinks a little and rubs her eyes before focusing on two of her best friends, sitting across the table at a little hole-in-the-wall café they go to for breakfast on the Sunday's when their schedules line up.

Sara and Caitlin both stare back at her and Felicity picks up her triple shot latte, takes a sip and before breathing out steadily.

"I'm sorry. Why were you naked in some guy's apartment? Wouldn't Nyssa be upset that you were naked in some guy's apartment? With a clown?" Felicity asks, confused because the last time she checked, Sara was most definitely only getting naked with the exotic brunette she'd met last year.

The blond raises an eyebrow and Felicity suddenly realizes that whatever it was Sara was actually saying has nothing to do with being naked. The clown should have been her first clue, really.

But her brain really isn't functioning properly and, given the concerned look Caitlin gives her, it's pretty obvious that it isn't.

She blames Motorbike Man.

Caitlin makes a sympathetic sound. "Is your neighbor still waking you up?"

Felicity groans at the question. "Yes! Motorbike Man got home at four this morning. Four! It should be illegal for anyone to be awake at that hour, let alone riding a stupid motorbike that makes a stupid noise that's too loud for my quiet street."

Caitlin makes a sympathetic noise as Sara tries to hide her laughter behind the frothy cappuccino she's just lifted to her lips. Felicity glares at the blond who just quirks an eyebrow back at her.

"You call them Motorbike Man? Seriously?" Sara asks, laughter coating her question and Felicity knows the question has her glaring mulishly at Sara.

Mostly because Sara's clearly missed the point of her reply. Namely the illegality of riding a motorbike that sounds like a race car at four in the morning. The other part is just tiredness makes her cranky.

Even as Felicity opens her mouth to snap back at her friend, Caitlin intervenes because Caitlin has clearly not missed the point of her reply and is the more sympathetic of her two friends.

"Have you thought about introducing yourself and asking if there's anyway for your neighbor to not…be so loud?"

Felicity can tell that Caitlin wasn't entirely sure how she was going to end that sentence even as she started it but she appreciates it all the same.

Even if Felicity's pretty sure introducing herself to Motorbike Man would just go badly for everyone involved.

She's had just enough sleep to know this.

So, Felicity just shrugs in response to Caitlin's question even as Sara laughs again.

"I can't believe you've named them Motorbike Man."

Felicity glares at her friend.

She absolutely has not had enough sleep to deal with Sara or thoughts of awkward introductions to people who should be arrested for noise pollution.

But she has had enough sleep to know this but not want to do anything about it. So she's just going to suffer until…she does something about it, probably.

Which, given how tired she actually is, it'll probably be another week of sleep deprivation before she does something drastic.

So, it was more like ten days before Felicity's decision to do something drastic occurs.

It happens because she was in one of those deep, dreamless, really restful sleeps that happens once a month, so when the rumbling slowly infiltrates her sleep and rouses her to consciousness at three-forty-two a.m., Felicity's pretty much done.

So, she takes Caitlin's advice.

Sort of.

She doesn't get out of bed and go upstairs to apartment five and knock on the door and introduce herself to ask Motorbike Man if he can do something about coming home at a stupid hour.

No, because she's groggy and really tired and running on so much less sleep than usual, Felicity decided to put her own unique spin on Caitlin's suggestion.

By writing a passive aggressive note that reads:

To Mr. Motorbike Man,

Would it be at all possible for you to stop returning to this building at hours when the normal population is trying to enjoy eight hours of uninterrupted sleep? May I suggest returning in the early hours of the night not the early hours of the morning?

Sincerely,

Sleep Deprived

So, yes, she improvises a little and Felicity just sleep deprived enough to actually leave her apartment at three in the morning to pin it to the communal cork-board down by the stairs.

Because that way, everyone can see it.

Including Mr. Motorbike Man.

Felicity doesn't know if she appreciates Sara's hysterical laughter.

Actually, Felicity's pretty sure she doesn't appreciate Sara's hysterical laughter or Caitlin's attempts at hiding her laughter and this time, it has no connection at all to the fact that she's sleep deprived.

Oh no, Felicity feels like she could handle it if her lack of appreciation stems from sleep deprivation.

But it doesn't.

Because Motorbike Man actually replied to her passive aggressive note.

Felicity hadn't actually forgotten about the note she'd pinned to the communal board but she'd been trying to time going to take it down before anyone saw it. Because she's really not a passive aggressive person and, really, she doesn't do things like this.

Ever.

She'd even managed to feel a little guilty about the fact that she'd left the note because, well, she doesn't know this person and she doesn't know what they do and what if her note was just…a horrible way to end Motorbike Man's night? What if she'd made it worse?

So, she'd headed downstairs when she was pretty sure no-one was around only to stand in front of the corkboard and stare in horror.

Motorbike Man had replied.

Even now, Felicity can't believe that he'd actually written a reply. Motorbike Man had actually taken time out of his day to write something that she only sort of meant in the first place.

Reaching out, Felicity grasps the piece of paper and pulls it towards her, reading the words written in scratchy, masculine hand again:

To Sleep Deprived,

I own a nightclub.

So, no.

Sincerely,

Motorbike Man

As soon as she'd read the reply, Felicity had called Sara and Caitlin to show them what she'd done.

Which is why they're all sitting in her living room and her two friends are laughing at her absolute mortification. Because expecting some sympathy from her two friends was probably too much to hope for.

Especially Sara who thought it was funny that she was sleep deprived in the first place.

"I can't believe he replied." Sara sputters, still giggling as Felicity groans. "I can't believe you wrote a note."

Caitlin lets out a steadying breath before offering consolingly. "At least now you know why he's getting back so late."

Felicity lifts her head to stare at her friends.

"Yes but Motorbike Man wasn't supposed to see the stupid note. I thought I'd be able to take it down before he did."

"I can't actually believe you had the guts to put it up in the first place, it's a very un-you thing to do. Wouldn't you normally try and ruin their credit history or something first?" Sara asks and Felicity shrugs helplessly.

"It was four in the morning. I hadn't had enough sleep to even try to ruin someone's credit history, let alone think leaving a note through. Clearly." Felicity answers and then looks down at again. "I can't believe he saw this and replied. What do I do now?"

She asks the question plaintively and doesn't expect a response because Sara's still laughing a bit too hard to be helpful and Caitlin's glancing at her phone in an attempt to hide the fact that she finds it just as funny as Sara.

This means that Felicity's pretty much on her own with this one.

So, she should probably think it through before figuring out how to approach Motorbike Man to apologize for being a horrible, passive aggressive, sleep-deprived neighbor.

Felicity sucks at thinking things through.

Or making decisions on her own.

Because she ends up writing a reply to Motorbike Man's reply. To be fair, she has drunk half a bottle of wine and heard a motorbike go past, so it's not like she's thinking that straight.

Still, she probably could have done better than:

To Motorbike Man,

Maybe you could get a vehicle that doesn't sound like there's a helicopter crashing into my apartment instead? That way when you return at the illegal hours of the morning, nobody wakes up.

Sincerely,

Sleep Deprived

But still, she's done something about this.

His reply is just as terse as the first one.

To Sleep Deprived,

I own a Ducati 1299 Panigale. It does not sound like a helicopter. Maybe you should just close your windows?

Sincerely,

Motorbike Man

Felicity can't help but feel maybe he's a little annoyed at her note and then, because she's never had any interest in motorbikes or cars or vehicles other than having them get her from Point A to Point B, she takes out her pen and writes a reply below his.

Motorbike Man,

I don't know what a Ducati 1299 Panigale is. My windows are always closed because its autumn and it does too sound like a helicopter.

Sincerely,

Sleep Deprived

Satisfied, Felicity heads to work with only the vague notion that this note writing may become a thing.

Sort of like all those things she appreciates about other people.

She then wonders if he's going to reply.

As it turns out, she doesn't have to wonder for very long.

Because the note thing?

Becomes a thing.

Sleep Deprived,

A Ducati 1299 Panigale is a motorbike. It does not sound like a helicopter. It sounds like a motorbike. If your windows are closed, maybe you should invest in some earplugs?

Sincerely,

Motorbike Man

Motorbike Man,

I get that it's a motorbike. But I don't understand the numbers or the name of it. Am I supposed to? I can also guarantee that if you were woken up at three-thirty in the morning by the sound that bike makes, you would think it sounds like a helicopter as well. And I don't like earplugs.

Sincerely,

Sleep Deprived

Sleep Deprived,

Given that you think it sounds like a helicopter, no. You're not supposed to understand what it means. I don't need to be woken up at three in the morning to know that my bike does not sound like a helicopter. Who doesn't like earplugs? It would solve your problem.

Sincerely,

Motorbike Man

Motorbike Man,

It sounds like a helicopter crashing into my living room at three-thirty in the morning. Please accept this information. I don't like earplugs because it means I'll sleep through my alarm. I can't sleep through my alarm otherwise I'll be late for work and I'm already in trouble because I've been so tired I got into trouble. There was a server crash and I didn't fix it quickly enough and my supervisor yelled at me and you probably didn't need to know this. It was a long day, anyway. I also don't like to stick things in my ear.

Sincerely,

Sleep Deprived

p.s. I still don't understand the name thing.

Sleep Deprived,

I will not accept that information. Because it doesn't sound like that. The name isn't important. The brand is. Have you tried putting a pillow over your head to block out the sound? How do you listen to music if you don't like putting things in your ear? Your day sounds terrible. I'm sorry. So, you're in IT, right?

Sincerely,

Motorbike Man

p.s. this is a gift card to the coffee shop on the corner. Please use it so you're not too tired when you get to work and you can have a good day.

Sara's on the floor this time, Caitlin's staring at her over her glass of red and Felicity is staring at the gift card that came attached to the latest note from Motorbike Man.

Seriously.

He gave her a gift card worth fifty dollars so she could go and get coffee. So she's not tired when she goes to work. Felicity doesn't know if this is weird or not. She really doesn't.

She feels like it probably would be if she hadn't spend the last week exchanging notes with him.

Notes that have gone from being slightly passive aggressive to, sort of, flirty and cute. Felicity knows this because Sara and Caitlin have just read them out loud and find it hilarious that Felicity might be flirting with this guy.

A guy she doesn't know at all, really.

Which means that this whole thing should be weird because apart from the fact that she knows Motorbike Man lives in the building, drives a motorbike and owns a nightclub, what does she actually know about him?

She doesn't even know his name. Or what he looks like. Or if he's an old or young or around her age or what his opinion on politics, Marvel or Doctor Who is.

There's so much she doesn't know about him and he's given her a gift card.

Felicity doesn't really know how to take this gesture. She really doesn't because it's a gift card. Should she get him something as well?

"Like what?" Caitlin asks curiously and Felicity realizes that she's been talking out loud.

Which isn't exactly a bad thing because at least her friends know what's going on in her head and she doesn't have to try and organize her thoughts into concise sentences.

"I don't know! I just…he gave me a gift card because I complained about getting in trouble at work. I feel like I should return the favor because who gives a gift card to someone they don't know?" Felicity demands, looking at both of them pleadingly.

"Felicity, if you're really uncomfortable with it, then why don't you just give it back?" Sara asks, breathing a little heavily from her fit of laughter.

"That way, you don't have to owe him anything and stress yourself out over getting him something else." Caitlin agrees, nodding and taking a sip of her wine.

Felicity blushes guiltily and Sara starts laughing again.

"I would but…I've sort of used some of it already and I can't give back a used gift card."

Caitlin sighs and Felicity lets her head drop into her hands.

Because, well, what does she do now? Get him something too? Take the card and run, figuratively? Then Felicity cringes as she realizes something.

She probably should have thanked him first before freaking out.

That would have been the polite thing to do.

Motorbike Man,

Thank you for my gift card. You really didn't have to. I mean it. It's not your fault that I'm sleep deprived. I would give it back but I kind of already used it. So…thank you for the month of coffee you've pretty much bought me. I appreciate it. Yes, I am in IT. What gave it away? Also, I feel like if I put a pillow over my head, I'd just end up suffocating myself because I'd be asleep and unaware of the pillow on my head thing.

Sincerely,

Sleep Deprived

p.s. do you like Marvel?

p.p.s is it a brand thing like if you sew a symbol or a name onto a handbag, it's suddenly worth three hundred dollars more than the twenty dollars it's worth everywhere else?

To Sleep Deprived,

It is my fault. So, I really did have to. You're welcome. The pillow may have been a bad idea. I wouldn't want you to suffocate yourself. Even though you probably wouldn't because my bike would wake you up.

Sincerely,

Motorbike Man

p.s. I do like Marvel. Fan of 'Guardians of the Galaxy.' Why?

p.p.s. No. It's really not like that. Ducati is one of the best bike makers in the world. You can't throw a name onto another, cheaper bike and expect it to work like a Ducati.

Felicity buys him a Guardians of the Galaxy magnet that turns out to be really hard to get on the board next to her note.

As she's struggling with it, Felicity hears someone coming down the stairs towards her and, because it might just be Motorbike Man, she freaks out.

Jumping away from the cork-board, leaving her note and the magnet precariously hanging on for dear life, Felicity hides behind a brick pillar wide enough to hide two of her.

The footsteps stop at the cork-board and Felicity sidles to the edge to peek around the corner as she hears a very male chuckle.

The man standing in front of the communal has his back to her and Felicity swallows hard at what she's looking at. Because the man is tall, broad and, from what she can see, is very built. The white t-shirt he's wearing pulling tight across his shoulders, the sleeves straining a little as his bicep bulges when he raises a hand to pluck the magnet off the board even as Felicity's eyes drift down to take in just how well his worn out jeans fit him.

They fit him really well.

Felicity's blushing when she suddenly realizes that he's pulled out a pen to reply to her note and that's when she really freaks out.

Because this well built man must be Motorbike Man and if the back of him matches the front then…then he's hot and Felicity doesn't know what to do with this information right at this second.

Because he's reading her note. The one that says:

To Motorbike Man,

It is your fault. I don't know why I pretended it isn't. Thank you for the coffee, anyway. I got you this magnet as a thank you gift. Because I felt guilty even if it is your fault I'm sleep deprived. I hope you have somewhere to put it. You do have a fridge, right? Also, I stand by my fear of suffocation even if your bike would wake me up. So, no sleeping with a pillow on my head. Maybe I'll learn how to sleep through the noise?

Sincerely,

Sleep Deprived

p.s. I was just curious. About you. Kind of. What about Doctor Who?

p.p.s So it's one of those things where you spend the money because it's got a good name and you know its going to be worth it? Like, when you buy a tablet?

Felicity holds her breath as he pauses for a second before scribbling something down on the notepaper below her writing.

He finishes rather quickly and, tossing his magnet up and down, he steps away from the cork-board and Felicity ducks back behind the pillar. Holding her breath and hoping that he doesn't see her, Felicity listens as he walks away.

She stays frozen behind the pillar up until she hears his motorbike roar to life, just in case he decides to come back. When she's absolutely sure that he's not on his way back, Felicity rushes over to the cork-board to see his note.

Sleep Deprived,

Thank you for the magnet. I do happen to own a fridge. It helps me keep things cold. Let me think about another suggestion to help you block out the noise of my bike. That still doesn't sound like a helicopter. I'll get back to you on that. I don't think you'll manage to get used to it, though. Doctor Who's the guy with the blue telephone box, right?

Sincerely,

Motorbike Man

p.s. Yes. It's like that. Ducati's one of the best in the business.

p.p.s. I'm curious about you, too. Mostly about why you thought you had to jump behind the brick pillar when you heard me coming down the stairs?

Felicity stares at the words and lets them sink in.

Oh. Oh dear.

He saw her.

Motorbike Man saw her jumping behind the pillar to avoid him and what does she do now? Does she reply? Does she pretend she doesn't know what he's talking about?

Does she pretend she's got no idea what he looks like? Does she write another note? Does she not write another note?

This note-writing thing has spun wildly out of control and Felicity isn't entirely sure she knows what to do to bring it under control.

Complain about his motorbike? His suggestions? The way his handwriting looks? Go back to being passive aggressive?

Because this note-writing thing is becoming quite a bit more serious than she'd originally thought it would and Felicity doesn't know if that's a bad thing or not.

Well, how was it? I hope it was okay! Look out for the next chapter!