Work Text:
Jihoon often wondered, as he lay in his bed, head resting atop his hands, “is it creepy to be eavesdropping on my neighbor?”
But he did it anyways. Every night. It’s not like it was his fault the guy left his window open! And besides, he wasn’t overhearing anything dramatic, like fights with a significant other, or anything… more intimate… It was hardly an invasion of privacy, Jihoon assured himself, it was pure-hearted and funny.
Every evening, the guy in the apartment directly across from his played the guitar for his bird.
Jihoon moved in a year ago, and without fail, a one-man concert took place every single night. The first few weeks, Jihoon attempted to keep his window shut, but his room was too miserably hot. So he listened. His neighbor often made up songs, played a tune and just sang about his day while his bird would sometimes whistle along. He worked at build-a-bear and ate pizza for lunch way too often. Jihoon knew because he sang to his bird about how sick he was of pizza.
It was obvious that the bird’s (or maybe the guy’s) favorite song was an acoustic version of the Scooby Doo theme song, as it was on every set list at least 3 times. He assumed that’s why the bird was named Scooby.
The guy’s voice was fairly deep and kind of raspy, yet gentle and warm. Jihoon often thought of songs that would sound beautiful with his voice, often imagined up new songs just for him.
Jihoon sometimes felt guilty for stealing the pleasure of listening to these songs that were dedicated just to this bird. But he hoped Scooby would understand.
Eventually, he got the courage to watch. Fueled by curiosity one night, when his neighbor’s songs weren’t playful or sweet. Instead, they sounded bitter, frustrated, angry. This was also the night he learned his neighbor’s name.
He shouted his feelings into song: “Mingyu you’re a big dumb idiot who’s going to get fired!”
Jihoon really can’t justify being a peeping-tom, but he just had to have a face to match to the name, and he figured if his neighbor ended up unemployed and on the street he would be able to recognize him and maybe tip him for all the free shows.
So he peeped through his curtains. He saw Scooby first, a small white bird with orange cheeks that made him look like he was blushing. He was perched on Mingyu’s shoulder, listening to the man sing out his frustrations. Mingyu was tall, like unreasonably tall, and broad with big brown eyes and a baby face. His appearance, oddly, both fit and didn't fit his voice. Jihoon thought that maybe if he wasn’t so handsome he wouldn’t have kept watching. But something told him he needed to see Mingyu smile.
And the next day, he did. He guessed that Mingyu wasn’t fired after all, because as soon as he got home he burst through the door already singing.
Jihoon pulled his curtains back slightly, careful not to be too obvious, and watched as Mingyu performed their favorite song for his dancing bird. Mingyu’s giggles as he sang were infectious and Jihoon smiled to himself, forgetting he was staring straight into a stranger’s apartment.
Some days, Mingyu left his window open when he went to work, so Jihoon would talk to the bird or play the piano for him. His favorite hobby was teaching Scooby a new tune to whistle and surprise Mingyu when he got back home. He would often tell the bird about himself, or ask questions about Mingyu. Of course, the bird never answered.
It’s funny, how he was more comfortable talking to a bird, than the neighbor he already knew everything about.
-
It’s been two weeks since Mingyu’s apartment became quiet. Mingyu stopped playing his guitar every night. He stopped talking to his bird. Jihoon assumed the worst, as he watched the shadow of his neighbor working quietly at his desk or pacing around the room.
Jihoon quickly got tired of the silence, so he decided to break it.
It only took him one night to put his thoughts together since he heard Mingyu’s voice every night and thought about it during the day.
He wrote a song, for Mingyu and for his guitar.
He tried his best to write down the chords and lyrics legibly in the scribbling he calls his handwriting. He folded the paper up into a paper airplane and, fully opening his curtains for the first time- fully exposing his room to his neighbors for the first time- he threw the airplane. It flew across the alleyway and straight into Mingyu’s window, landing in his hair. Jihoon always took pride in his aim.
Mingyu, startled, looked over at his neighbor waving shyly from his window. He carefully unfolded the paper and examined it briefly before turning back over to Jihoon “What’s this?” He shouted, voice rough and too loud for how close their windows were.
Jihoon replied in a normal tone, already aware of how easily their voices traveled across the alley, “A little birdie told me you have a beautiful voice.”