Chapter Text
He first heard it one Sunday afternoon just as spring was starting. That time, he could have sworn that it was just a figment of his imagination. He couldn’t imagine any person sounding like that.
Huh. Maybe he’s been alone in the rooftop duplex for too long.
Taemin was the sort of person who enjoyed his own company, which was why he loved having the rooftop to himself. With his busy schedule of teaching dance at the studio or coming home after touring with one of those musical acts that his crew regularly works with, the idyll of lying under the stars with nothing in his mind but a distant hum and with chicken and beer beside him is one of the best feelings in the world.
However, the prolonged emptiness of the apartment next to his had started to feel unnerving for some reason. He was hardly ever home, but the emptiness in the other door was just... His imagination started to conjure up all sorts of stories, and while he did enjoy watching them, hearing odd rustling in an empty apartment is definitely not on his list of favorite things.
Until one late Friday night after weeks away in a seemingly endless stretch of tour dates and performances, he came home for an extended break to his apartment and found light streaming from inside the adjacent apartment for a change. The sign of life from the other apartment brought him some comfort, even if he couldn't discern any movement from the other apartment.
He heard the odd, witchlike cackle that Sunday. And again on the Sunday after that. It bothered him even more than the lack of occupant in the other apartment before the new tenant moved in.
Two months had passed, but he still hadn't caught sight of his new neighbor with the odd-sounding laugh. And it started to bother him because... did he even have a neighbor?
One Sunday when he came home early after a cancelled schedule, he walked up the stairs to that same sound and decided to march up next door. Heck, his rice cake was long overdue.
Of course, it had absolutely nothing to do with that slight skip his heart made when he heard the undoubtedly happy sound on Sundays. Maybe he should see a doctor about that.
After a few knocks, the door opened to reveal one of the most arresting faces Taemin has ever seen. A shock of jet-black hair, a high forehead, a slit dashingly cutting through one brow, almond eyes with a catlike tilt at the corners...
His awestruck inventory of the man's features was cut short when he registered the hostility in those dark, tired looking eyes.
"What do you want?" A low, scratchy voice demanded.
Despite feeling a bit cowed, Taemin marshalled on. "Hi, I-I'm Lee Taemin, your next-door neighbor."
The man's expression didn't change. "Ok. What do you want, Lee Taemin-sshi?"
"I wanted to welcome you. Belatedly. I’m sorry, I haven’t been home much.”
“That’s ok.”
Taemin indicated the plastic baggie in his hand. " Would you like to join me for chicken and beer? You've been here for months now-"
"Surely you're not expecting us to be friends just because we live next door to each other."
Ouch.
Wow. That was harsh. Taemin couldn't believe such a joyful, singular laugh could come from such an unpleasant person. Maybe he has someone else living with him? But no, the landlady said it was just one guy when he asked.
"Of course not. I was just doing the neighborly thing to do. After all, I have to be the first person to call 119 if something happened to you," Taemin retorted in a fit of pique. "By the way, never use that recliner and that low table-bed thingie. Those are mine."
That slashed eyebrow sardonically lifted upward. "Why would I want to do that?"
Taemin was speechless. He has never met such a rude person before. Not knowing what else to say, he turned on his heel and stomped back into his apartment, slamming the door in anger.
He didn't hear the occupant of the other apartment sigh and then close the door at the same time.
***
With that kind of welcome, Taemin figured that befriending the neighbor was a lost cause. He couldn’t even decide whether living with such a character next door was preferable to living alone. At least the previous tenant was pretty chill before he had to move out to marry. While they did not exactly become the best of friends, he and Jinki-hyung did share chimaek or barbeques on that low table every once in a while with or without Junghee-noona. He even attended their wedding last autumn.
Forming a similar connection with the new tenant was looking impossible, so Taemin decided that the best way for him to live peacefully was to ignore the other’s existence. After all, he was barely home anyway. However, that laugh came like clockwork every Sunday, or at least during Sundays that Taemin was home. And every single time, Taemin was reminded of his harsh encounter with the slit-browed man and became irritated anew.
In addition, ignoring Kibum was difficult. One time, he had several of his dance crew over for some drinks, and on the next day he was nicely warned by his landlady to keep the noise down because the other door complained.
Another time he dropped a mug, same thing. Even a door accidentally banged due to a misplaced gust did not escape the neighbor’s ire.
One Sunday afternoon that summer, he moved stuff around the roof deck to clear some space for him to rehearse a sequence that he was working on, irate neighbor and his endless complaints be damned. He was tasked to come up with a contemporary choreography for one of the idols that they dance with. The genre was not really his forte, so he spent every spare minute practicing to hew the moves into his muscle memory. He was slated to present the choreography at the company that following Tuesday, so he was pressed for time to master it before then, what with other projects and his dance classes.
As luck would have it, his studio had been booked way in advance; only the pricier dance studios were available at the time, and neither he nor his meager budget could justify the expense. Recording and monitoring his performance using his phone would have to suffice in lieu of floor-to-ceiling mirrors.
It was particularly hot that afternoon, but Taemin relentlessly practiced and critiqued his performance over and over until he was fully satisfied with how he executed the dance. There was barely any light left when he finished.
Out of sheer exhaustion, he dropped panting onto the low table and threw an arm over his eyes.
After a few minutes or hours (he didn’t really know which), he heard a low voice say harshly from somewhere above his head, “Do you have a death wish or something?”
Taemin bolted upright and was instantly sorry he did so. His head started pounding instantly, and he saw white.
“I knew that was going to happen. What the hell were you thinking? I guess you probably weren’t.”
The hands supporting his weight belied the harsh words. Then, “Breathe. I got you.”
Taemin closed his eyes and breathed deeply in time with a monologue enumerating why he was stupid - It's high summer! Who dances under the sun for hours at this time? Do you even eat? I'd bet you're hypoglycemic right now - which returned in full force and was delivered in a matter-of-fact, know-it-all voice. He must have been really out of it, because even that he found rather pleasant and grounding. After a while, his hands blindly reached out for his water bottle, but he found himself sipping on something weirdly sweet and salty held up against his tongue.
“Oral rehydration salts. You know, for diarrhea. A triathlete friend swears by it instead of Gatorade. That makes sense since Gatorade is pretty much just sugar and salt, whereas these packs actually have electrolytes.”
A few more breaths, and Taemin could see his legs instead of just a white film over his eyes. He turned his head to his left and saw the same poker-faced neighbor saying stuff. He was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining the concern in the other’s eyes, though.
That apple ponytail was as unexpected as it was cute.
Kibum pulled back his arm and abruptly stood from the table. “There’s some tea and cream bread over there. Hydrate and eat; you’re too skinny. All that dancing must burn everything you’re eating.”
Taemin was left gawking at the man’s retreating back. What just happened? Collecting his scattered wits, he called after him, “Thanks, Kim Kibum-ssi. And I'm sorry for the noise.”
Kibum paused as he was stepping inside his door and said, "Next time, I'm charging you twice for the snack, three times for medicines."
Damn. Did that cheekbone just lift?
***