Chapter Text
Changbin's late. Fucking shit, he's late again. It's the third time this week and Changbin knows that's pretty shitty, even for him, because it's only Wednesday.
He scrambles around his apartment, adamantly trying to avoid the mess and, Jesus, is that rest of the pizza he ordered two weeks ago? Finally, he locates his keys, hidden under scraps of paper with scribbled one-liners and he's out the door, locking the dead bolt behind him…
And tripping on the mess of boxes overflowing from the door across the hall. He takes a moment to glare at the door in substitute for whoever-the-fuck decided to leave their shit all over the hallway, before refocusing on the chaos beneath him.
The boxes are all nicely labeled with "kitchen", or "clothes”— speak of a domesticity Changbin hasn’t really felt since he lived by himself. He scowls one last time at the mess, belatedly remembering hearing about what might be someone finally getting the apartment across from his, gets back to his senses and hurries towards the elevator, still late.
It’s not until Changbin gets back to his apartment too late that he remembers the mystery person who moved in across the hall (which, thankfully, is devoid of the boxes from earlier). He considers maybe introducing himself at a more appropriate time, when he’s more awake and showered, but he’s not sure if that was worth the effort anyway.
Sighing as he unlocks his apartment, Changbin stumbles a few feet before collapsing on his couch, not bothering with his shoes or jacket. He shoves a hand in his pocket to grab at his phone.
Hyunjin isn’t returning his calls. Which, Hyunjin never returns his calls. But judging from the dial tone he gets two rings into his latest attempt, the other man is straight up avoiding him.
Changbin stares at the blank screen in front of him, willing anything to happen, and then he rams his phone onto the coffee table. Fuck that. He kicks his shoes off and onto the floor because fuck those too.
Shoving his head under some pillow his mom bought him, Changbin decides that passing out is preferable than waiting for any response from Hyunjin, and tries to get some sleep instead.
But right before he dozes off, Changbin considers maybe setting an alarm so he might actually show up to work on time tomorrow, but decides he doesn’t actually care.
Changbin wakes up with an aching back, and the profound thought that he’s probably got to get a better job (and with that, meaning one with much less menial labour). His head’s pounding. His stomach’s grumbling. He smells of day old clothes. And, judging by the light streaming through his window, he already knows he’s late for work.
Sighing, Changbin considers just calling in sick. Of course, he’s barely able to pay his rent as is, much less if he doesn’t actually show up to work every once in a while.
Changbin lets out another sigh as he sits up, very sore from all the work he did yesterday. He considers the lumpy couch beneath himself before deciding it’s better than last time when he was just so tired, passing out against his door while being unable to get his key to fit in the lock properly.
He pads his way into the bathroom and turns on the shower. Dejectedly, he watches it wheeze to life.
Fishing through his pockets as he undresses, Changbin pulls out a napkin with scrawled words he doesn’t remember writing.
I need to rest, but I’m still far
Changbin snorts. Definitely sounded like himself. He crumples the napkin and throws it into the waste bin. Not a good time for his own words to get at him like that.
Fifteen minutes (and a crappy breakfast) later, Changbin’s rushing out the door…
And straight into the arms of an unsuspecting stranger who, guessing by the open door behind him, is Changbin’s new neighbor. Changbin’s arms wrap around the other man in an attempt to break both their falls, and, for a moment, they lock eyes and all Changbin can think is Wow, his hair’s really blond.
“Um,” the stranger stammers out with a voice so low Changbin's surprised it even belongs to a person.
“Um,” Changbin replies because he is really articulate right now. And original. No wonder his life’s such a success!
They stare at each other for a moment longer, before Changbin decides he should probably stop being too close for the new tenant’s comfort. He extracts himself carefully, taking a step back and laughing nervous.
A step back and Changbin can actually get a good look at the guy, and his brown eyes shine in contrast to his bright blond locks, and he’s casually just got a random hoodie on. He has a completely foreign face, though Changbin can still see bits of Korean features in him. There’s a metallic silver cross hanging on his left ear, and while seeing just half a pair of earrings' never really been Changbin's thing, it's definitely working for this dude.
Unfortunately, he’s also looking hopefully at the ground, like maybe it will swallow him whole if he stares long enough. Which, okay, Changbin can relate.
Changbin’s beginning to wonder how long they can awkwardly stand around and avoid eye contact before he actually spontaneously combusts when he remembers he is, in fact, still late for work.
And because Changbin is a really smart person, he then blurts, “I’m late for work.”
Mouth hanging open, Changbin takes a moment to try and comprehend his own stupidity. Or at the very least, where the fuck the filter between his mouth and brain happened to go. However, thankfully, thankfully, the other guy appears just as dazed as him because his reply is, “Um, I moved in across the hall.”
There's a hint of consciousness that arises in this male's voice, and Changbin notices the slight mispronunciation of his words. And for whatever reason, Changbin is still talking, “Yeah, I noticed when I tripped all over your boxes yesterday.”
Changbin wonders how much humiliation it’s possible to feel during one conversation. More or less, he isn't someone to actually get nervous in these kinds of situations. This is worse than the time many years ago his mom compared the mess in his room with a similie of a camel. A neglected camel at the South Pole.
And this is worse.
Somehow, though, rather than just walking away in embarrassment, the blond just laughs shyly, small smile present as he says, “I’m Felix. Felix Lee. Sorry about the boxes. I’m kind of a mess at the moment.”
He fidgets with the strings of his hoodie before offering a hand, and Changbin takes it gratefully, “Seo Changbin, and it’s cool, really. Though I really am late for work.”
“Yeah,” Felix replies, a teasing note entering his voice, “kinda like yesterday when you ran out and fell all over my boxes. Guess it was just me this time.”
Embarrassed, Changbin ducks his head, thankful he doesn’t blush easily. He returns the smile though, and somehow manages not to feel like a third grader meeting their crush for the first time.
“Yeah, well.” Changbin gestures at the hallway behind him, hoping to convey that he needs to get going, not hey look, I know where the elevator is. “I really should head to work. I’ll see you around though?” Changbin pretends his voice doesn’t sound hopeful, even to his own ears. Felix’s answering grin is enough that he doesn’t really care, anyway.
Changbin intended to visit his friend's house after work that night to spend some time rapping with them, but sends a text to Chris saying he'll drop by another day. He tells himself it's because he's sick of waking up on his lumpy couch when he does, in fact, own an actual bed. But really, he knows he's a lot more likely to run into Felix again if he's not fumbling his way into his apartment at one in the morning or tumbling into Chris' bed just because he's too lazy to head home by himself.
Of course, just because it's more likely doesn't mean it will actually happen. That doesn't stop Changbin from dejectedly staring at the closed door across from his, hall glaringly empty of anyone save Changbin himself.
He resists the urge to knock on the door, make some sort of scene, anything, because Changbin might be desperate, but even he knows that's just sad. Not to mention pretty fucking creepy.
He casts one more forlorn glance at Felix's door before turning to his own, letting himself in and tossing his keys on the table by the door.
All that excitement (and inevitable disappointment) about seeing Felix has left Changbin with a lot of nervous energy, and one glance around his cramped apartment lets him know that he can't just stay here, can't just sit and play computer games, or scribble half-thought lines like he usually does when he gets home early.
Still, now that he's home, he actually doesn’t want to actually practice rapping. He considers the old pizza box poking out from under the couch, and the bunch of dirty clothes thrown haphazardly around the room, and then heads into the kitchen. Under the sink he finds an unopened box of garbage bags; he grabs the whole pack and sets to work.
Over an hour later and Changbin thinks his apartment hasn't been this clean since he moved in. Or maybe since he was dating Jisung; he always liked a clean apartment.
Shutting down that particular line of thought as quickly and ruthlessly as possible, Changbin decides there's really only one thing he has left to do before his apartment could pass any FDA inspection, and he grimaces at the mountain of clothes he had been resolutely ignoring for the past hour.
Sighing the sigh of all those who no longer live with their mom to just do their laundry for them, Changbin trudges into his room and looks for a hamper.
As someone who doesn't actually own a washer or dryer, Changbin has the lovely privilege of using the "laundry room" provided by his apartment complex.
Changbin considers the three failing washing machines and equally-as-old dryers in the moldy basement of his building an apt metaphor for exactly where he stands in life. When one of the washing machines breaks down and he has to hold his soggy, half-clean clothes while waiting for one of the others to finish, well, it's all the more fitting. Maybe he’ll write about it, something tragic about spin cycles and the futility of repeat relationships. (Maybe laundry metaphors are why Chris never takes his lyrics sometimes).
Halfway through the drying cycles, Changbin hears a polite cough from the doorway behind where he’s sitting. He turns around and has the reign in his smile when he sees that it's Felix.
A sly grin creeps in when he sees the basket the blond's holding, and the words are just flowing out without thought, lightly teasing, "What? Two days here and you've already exhausted your wardrobe?"
Felix blushes, smile tugging at his lips as he looks down for a while before replying, "I was in a rush, moving out of my old place, and I didn't get a chance to do a load before I left." He gestures at the washing machines. "Are you using these?"
Changbin waves a hand, dismissive. "All yours."
Changbin watches as Felix unloads his bucket into the washing machine (adamantly avoiding the mold growing on and around the machine, which yeah, pretty gross), and wonders what kind of life he lived before two days ago. Changbin wonders if he moved across the city or from another country. If he left friends and family behind or if he was looking to start new. If he could ever come to call a place with shitty heating and even shittier neighbors home.
Changbin bites his cheek, tugs on his own hoodie, anything to distract his thoughts. Never one without a pen, he pulls a cheap ball point from his pocket and starts scribbling words on the back of his hand, usually the lines that quickly flow into his head during silent times like these.
If you want success, put snares that are called failures
I bite the baits that are called pain
I'm wandering around with my exhausted wings of passion temporarily folded
"What're you doing?"
And Changbin freezes, because in his desperate attempt to rid his mind off his thoughts, he had completely forgotten about Felix in the room as well. He looks up slowly, not wanting to see the other male's reaction, that guarded look people get around Changbin because they all know his mind doesn't stop thinking.
However, when he locks eyes with Felix, all he sees is curiosity.
"I was just, uh, writing stuff that comes into my head. They're not... that good. But I'd rather have them down on paper, or y'know, my hand I guess, than in my head," Changbin explains, awkwardly trying to clarify without saying that he's choking on my own words.
But maybe Felix understands, or at the very least recognizes Changbin's discomfort, because he says, "Yeah, I get like that with my rapping. Like, I'd just feel like I'd internally combust if I don't get those rhymes and lines out."
Changbin instantly perks up, staring at this over five-feet wonder in front of him, not bothering to hide his enthusiasm. "You rap?"
The other man fiddles with the strings of his hoodie, clearly a nervous gesture, before meeting Changbin's eyes again. "Yeah, I mean, it's just something I do once in a while."
However, Changbin's already up and across the room, gesturing excitedly. It's been so long since he's talked music with someone who didn't know him as Changbin, that one-third member of 3RACHA, an independent rapper group he's in with Chris and Jisung.
"We should totally rap together," Changbin announces, only noticing Felix's wide eyes and shocked expression once the words are already out. He quickly backpedals, because maybe asking a guy you met a day ago to collaborate with you is actually kind of creepy. Why was he so excited? "I mean, only if you want to. Uh, that was probably really weird of--"
"No, wait. I want to," Felix cuts him off, his voice confident even if his eyes are on the floor, "I'm free Friday night if you want to, um, hang out. Bring some of your stuff and maybe we'll, y'know, work something out. Or something."
He looks up at Changbin after he's finished speaking, lips quirked and eyes bright.
Changbin's answering smile is blinding, and the quick hug he gives Felix without thought is met with nothing but a soft chuckle and red cheeks.
Hours later, after his clothes are put away neatly, Changbin sets his alarm before going to sleep so he's not late for work the next day.
Thursday after work finds Changbin scrambling around his apartment, scrounging up stuff written on crumpled papers and pages of a tattered notebook. They’re all shoved in his nightstand drawer, where he can keep them without letting his mind visit them.
He reads his lines left aside after being unable to match them with others, thoughts he never got around to showing Chris and Jisung. But really, he needs anything he can find that doesn't completely suck to show his neighbor tomorrow. He stands in the middle of his room, before going to the bathroom and pulling the napkin from earlier that week out of the bin. He smoothes it on the counter, eyes carefully avoiding the words, before adding it to the growing pile on his bed.
Friday night Changbin knocks on Felix's door with his right hand, papers and a notebook clutched in his left. He had briefly considered copying from the loose papers into the notebook, but decided if he read through the words again, he'd probably just throw them all away out of sheer embarrassment.
Felix opens the door smiling, before raising his eyebrows at the items in Changbin's hand. Changbin clutches them tighter, and if Felix notices, he doesn’t say anything.
Changbin rubs the back of his neck nervously while saying, "I brought some of the stuff I've written."
Felix's eyes flicker back up to meet his and maybe Changbin’s a little too relieved when the focus is off the dump in his hand. Still, Felix smiles, no hint of anything but friendliness and says, “I noticed; you can come in!”
Felix steps aside to allow him past, and maybe Changbin’s a little surprised with what he finds. Changbin’s not sure what he expected, but besides having the exact same layout as his place across the hall, Felix's apartment couldn't look any more different from Changbin's.
If Changbin thought his apartment was clean, then Felix's is a fucking Clorox commercial— his furniture doesn’t have the same stains and holy shit, how he managed to get hardwood floors in a shithole building like theirs, Changbin will never know.
Still, the place looks surprising for having a resident for less than a week. Shoes kicked off by the door. A stack of mail on the coffee table. And Changbin’s pretty sure he can see a G-Dragon poster hanging over the unmade bed through the open door of what most likely is Felix's bedroom. It’s just really… nice. Homey.
He tells Felix as much and gets a shy smile in return. "Yeah, I like it myself too."
Felix leads him over to the couch, where there's two cans of Coca-Cola already waiting on the table in front of them. Changbin sits at the opposite end from Felix, and pretends he doesn’t notice the expectant looks the other man keeps shooting the contents of his left hand.
Changbin takes a few deep breaths before finally turning back to Felix, “Don't expect too much, okay?”
He wasn't like this— his confidence usually flows out without stop when he's around Chris and Jisung, but in this situation..?
Bemused, Felix laughs out, “They’re gonna be good.”
Changbin snorts, before handing Felix what basically equates to all the stuff he's written for the past 1-2 years of his life. It should be easier than it seems, but something about this just makes Changbin feel so exposed and vulnerable.
The latter quickly goes back to fidgeting while Felix takes his time to flip through the notebook, looking as if deep in thought. He’s sporting an intense look of concentration that means he either doesn’t know how to fix lyrics that suck, or that maybe he actually has something to work with. Felix starts mumbling words too low for Changbin to catch. Every few lines he’ll sit up straighter like maybe something’s actually going right and Changbin steadily works his way from nervous to excited while watching this guy work.
Despite what he said about rapping only being a hobby, Felix clearly knows what he’s doing.
A few minutes later and he looks up at Changbin, less concentration and more nerves. “Just… I’m gonna try something, okay? And you can tell me if you hate it or not.”
Changbin thinks that Felix could set his lyrics to the tune of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star and he wouldn’t hate it, but decides that nodding would probably be the more appropriate response.
Felix takes in a measured breath, and sends Changbin a quick smile, and then opens his mouth and raps:
“I'm going to find out where the exit is / To save me from being locked in the darkness / I frantically try to run away..."
Felix keeps his eyes straight as he raps, with hand gestures guiding his flow, and that’s good, because Changbin thinks the blond would be uncomfortable if he could see the look of awe all over his own face.
The feeling amplifies as Felix finishes with 2 more lines, letting English slip out casually from his mouth and Changbin's really just impressed right now. Because finally there was someone who could somehow make his own lyrics work instead of seeing pieces of them in between Jisung and Chan's lyrics.
“I, uh,” Felix fidgets for a moment after he was done, eyes shifting but never quite landing on Changbin. His voice was clearly shaking from that nervousness of presenting his rapping for the first time to someone he just met, and Changbin's just staring.
He should probably say something.
“That was perfect.”
Changbin clearly didn't give himself time to think his words through.
But Felix’s only answer is a soft smile and the reddening of his cheeks, so maybe it’s not so bad.
They make it through about half a song, with Felix helping out in arranging more lines together—with Changbin still unable to comprehend how someone like Felix even exists,— before deciding to order pizza about 20 minutes later. They play a game which results in Changbin having to clean up after their meal, but could he really complain?
Changbin was working on his third slice of pizza when he notices, semi-hidden behind a closet door, looking halfway between a space heater and something too expensive for Changbin to be around without fear of somehow breaking it.
And because Changbin's mind has recently just been flowing with thoughts nonstop, he couldn't help but blurt out: “What is that?”
“Hm?” Felix replies distractedly, glancing up from his pizza to where Changbin is staring. There’s a moment where Changbin swears he tenses all over, before relaxing again and saying nonchalantly, “Oh, it’s an air purifier. Gets rid of mold and bacteria in the air and whatnot.”
“Oh, hypochondriac, much?” Changbin teases, giving Felix a sight smirk (and maybe regretting that comment a little).
“Maybe just a bit.”
Felix rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but there’s a tightness in his features that makes Changbin think there’s more going on than the other guy's willing to talk about. Changbin drops the subject afterwards.
Saturday night and Changbin gets a call from Hyunjin asking if he wants to hang out. He glances at Felix, who’s probably getting more Coca-Cola cans from the kitchen, before saying he’s busy and hangs up.
Woojin’s sitting across from him, face pensive. It makes Changbin nervous, if only because Changbin usually doesn’t like the types of revelations Woojin tends to share with him; basically, they involve a level of honesty and self-examination that Changbin is never going to be comfortable with.
Still, there’s four more minutes of Woojin's thinking face and Changbin's eyes awkwardly darting around the floor before Woojin declares, “You’ve met someone.”
Changbin looks up and snorts. “What? Yeah, I met Seungmin again earlier this week. Really missed that guy, we talked for a long t—”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Woojin cuts him off, straight through Changbin’s bullshit, like he always does. “Someone like Jisung,” Woojin hesitates, “or Hyunjin.”
“Hyunjin never answers my calls,” Changbin scoffs, though it hurts less to admit this week than it did last.
“You don’t want him to,” Woojin counters, and there’s too much truth in that for Changbin to reply. They sit in silence for a few tense moments before Woojin asks, “So is he nice?”
And Changbin smiles for a moment, small, genuine, before answering. “Yeah. Yeah, he is.”