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New neighbors are nice.
Seonghwa likes new neighbors and having new people to greet in the hallways. He likes baking whatever and sending them over to whoever lives next door to gauge what kind of person or persons they are (plus, if he’s lucky, they’ll invite him in and he gets to eat what he baked too), but Hongjoong tells him it’s irrational and kind of stupid since he would probably eventually bump into them on the way home or something. And for once Hongjoong is fucking right.
He didn’t ask for the sound of heavy boxes and too many thundering footsteps to force him awake at a god awful early time this morning, but it happens anyways, and his natural instinct is to immediately pull out a sheet of frozen cookie dough from the freezer and throw them in the oven. He yawns as he watches the cookies rise and bubble through half-lidded eyes, cursing at his new neighbor’s moving company rather audibly as he shambles about searching for some form of caffeine. He’s functioned on less sleep before, but definitely not during the weekends, and really, his whole body schedule is kind of fucked up, but that doesn’t mean he appreciates being woken up at the proper time of “before 12 am”.
Reaching into his fridge, he pulls out a half-finished strawberry energy drink and starts gulping it down like water. He prides himself on being the most put together in his general group of friends, but no one can be this sane without a copious amount of psychoactive drugs running through their veins. While he squeezes the thin aluminum, he considers maybe writing a note; a short sweet one that’ll hopefully grab him a boyfriend or a girlfriend and get his friends off his back about his participation in the romantic scene. Wooyoung seriously needs to stop catfishing as him on Tinder and messaging some profane things to a stranger that lived twenty miles away.
Seonghwa downs one more full can before the beeping from the oven alerts him of the cookies. He grunts while leaning down and eyeing the cookies through the little window, already forgetting his rising urge to strangle Wooyoung as a surge of satisfaction washes over him while looking at the melted chocolate of his perfected cookie. If his neighbor didn’t like these cookies he is certain that they’re a psychopath.
A few minutes later, he’s standing in front of an open door with boxes still stacked like a barricade outside with a plate of cookies in hand. He knocks and waits patiently as he hears a loud tumble before a shape is seen quickly approaching the light of the entryway.
Holy shit .
“Um, hi?”
A young man stands awkwardly at the door, his hands fiddling together as he looks anywhere but at Seonghwa’s face. If Seonghwa had any cognitive ability left, he’d find some poetic way to say that the man is absolutely gorgeous. Instead, he just stares, scanning the other up and down and noting the flamboyant nature of his new neighbor’s pants, the pants being a pair of perfectly fitting black skinny jeans with letters printed above the thighs. That being said, the rest of the man is significantly softer, with a large cardigan paired with a white shirt engulfing his shape and a pink beanie pulled over his head.
“S-sir? Can I, um, help you?”
Fuck, he’s been staring too long.
“H-hey, I’m Seonghwa,” he manages after clearing his throat. “I live right next door actually and I heard you moving in. If you need any help you can ask me, and um…here.”
He manages to hold back from shoving the cookies right into his neighbor and bolting back to his room, instead holding the plate out with a small smile. He gives himself a mental high-five for not fucking up the lines that he had basically practiced for years, because even though he’s not really looking for anything, his new neighbor is cute .
“Oh, cookies!” his neighbor’s eyes light up as he accepts the plate. Then he stops, shifting back a little with his eyes drifting downwards. “I’m, um…I’m Yeosang by the way. Thanks for, you know, dropping by.”
A pause. “And for the cookies.”
“No problem,” Seonghwa coughs, chest still not recovering from the admittedly adorable reaction to his cookies. He’s not shallow, in any way, but it would take nothing for him to jump off the university roof for his newly named neighbor. “Did—do you need some help moving some boxes?”
“Um…sure,” Yeosang says, slightly flustered still. “Just watch out. I think I just broke a lamp.”
He lets out a small laugh as a pink flush begins to build on blond’s (by the way did Seonghwa mention that his neighbor is blond ? And holy shit does it look good) cheeks and his fingers begin playing with his sleeve again. Seonghwa softens at the other’s shy demeanor, an overwhelming urge to coddle and baby (a bad habit according to Hongjoong) Yeosang surging in him as they stand facing each other. He really would, if it isn’t for the once more awkward atmosphere settling between them, with Yeosang not moving or at least even indicating that Seonghwa could come in. On the other hand, he didn’t make any moves either, not wanting to look stupid in front of the dangerously attractive Yeosang as he could quite literally be seeing this man for the rest of his life.
“Did I…perhaps wake you?” Yeosang starts; a very drastic switch in topic, but then again Seonghwa could understand.
“Not really, why?”
“Ah, it’s just…I really like your pants.”
Pants? Seonghwa is quite perplexed at the compliment although he knows he got some really sick pants from Hongjoong. He doesn’t really remember what he’s wearing, his mind still jogging to catch up from its early morning state, but he assumes the best because he is a fashion student. Maybe he wore the pair that made his thighs look amazing or something because Yeosang’s eyes are still glued to his legs. He looks down.
“You’re fucking kidding.”
Scratch whatever he said about not embarrassing himself. And whatever he said about being a fashion student. Dump it in the trash. Set it on fire.
Of all days walking around the house in boxers and a large shirt, he sure chose a wonderful day to wear his funky monkey print pajama pants that he has had since high school and that he’s clearly outgrown considering the pants ended mid-calf whereas they used to skim the floor. Not that boxers would’ve made a better impression, but at least he’d maybe remember to wear his goddamn thigh pants.
Yeosang tilts his head a little, having the audacity to look confused like a cute bird as Seonghwa flails inwardly with his face burning up. Thank god Seonghwa didn’t have the vocal register of any of his friends, otherwise he’d definitely one hundred percent fucked up his chances with a cute guy. He could at least play it cool or something and somehow save this encounter with something that’s…cool.
“Ah! Sorry about that,” he says as smoothly as he could without breaking down. “I was just testing patterns for my fashion piece.”
The expression on Yeosang’s face shifts between surprise and interest as he mentions fashion, and finally, a timid smile worms it’s way across his neighbor’s face.
“That’s so cool! You’re a fashion student?” Yeosang exclaims as his face loosens considerably from the painfully reserved expression. “No wonder you look so…confident!”
Seonghwa knows Yeosang didn’t mean it as an insult or anything, but judging by the atrocious pants he currently has on, Seonghwa could only assume the worst from that small pause in Yeosang’s sentence. That, and the fact that Yeosang won’t stop staring at his legs.
“I’ll be changing…going,” Seonghwa blunders, with his hands gesturing jerkily down the hall. “You wait for me to lift the heavy stuff, ok?”
Yeosang barely lets out a noise of affirmation before Seonghwa darts three feet to the right and slams the door to his apartment.
He leans against the door panting heavily, his mind rushing about and trying to gather his thoughts back together. Seonghwa didn’t technically embarrass himself in front of his angel neighbor right? He looks down at his legs and the stupid monkey pants that seem to mock him with those happy monkey faces. Or maybe he had, he’s not sure.
Turning his head slightly to catch a glimpse of what he looks like in the gigantic wall mirror he invested in specifically to check his appearance in, he almost combusts out of sheer embarrassment. Of course he would just walk out the front door, as would any normal person would, leaving his apartment with hair an absolute bird’s nest and his pajama top half unbuttoned because it gets hot during the night. At least his pajama top actually looks decent enough to be an everyday shirt, but something tells him that Yeosang didn’t comment on his hair nor his swollen face to preserve the dignity he’s basically scraping the bottom of the barrel for.
That aside, he makes a mental reminder to torch his monkey pants after helping out the pretty blond next door.
“Hongjoong, I need your help.”
Here he is, moments after he gets back from helping Yeosang carry in boxes and set up a temporary sleeping spot, calling Hongjoong mid-slamming his head against the wall because fuck, he’s going to die.
“What,” Hongjoong’s voice grumbles sleepily over the phone. “Why are you even awake? It’s only nine a.m. right now.”
“This is an emergency,” hisses Seonghwa as he peels off his pants and tosses it over his couch. “I think I just screwed up my first impression with my new neighbor.”
“That’s a first.” Hongjoong suddenly sounds more awake, and Seonghwa could hear rustling from the other end. “What? Were they a psychopath? Did they not like your cookies or something? Were they allergic?”
“I think he liked my cookies too much,” Seonghwa responds, remembering how Yeosang had stuffed his cheeks full of cookies while they sat on the floor after the arduous task of hauling a mattress up the stairs. Seonghwa really only managed to eat one, but he didn’t mind it all that much when Yeosang made noises of satisfaction after swallowing his mouthful and proceeded to blush when he made eye contact with Seonghwa. The angel that his neighbor is then apologized profusely for eating all the cookies while Seonghwa does his best to hold back from swiping away some stray crumbs lingering at the corners of Yeosang’s mouth.
“So he’s…like Cookie Monster?”
“Yes, but like a thousand times prettier,” he groans as he peels off his button-up shirt too. Maybe Seonghwa did overdress to move a couple boxes, but as a fashion student he has to uphold his reputation. Of course, the shy compliment Yeosang gave to his outfit is a definite plus, even if laundry day has to be moved forward a couple.
“So someone has finally caught the great Park Seonghwa’s eyes?” Hongjoong teases after a brief moment of silence in which Seonghwa could only hear his breath, which was unnerving in its own right. While Hongjoong is more or less the least insane person in their friend group, Seonghwa has seen him shut Wooyoung up with a single warning and also scale Yunho like a tree when the taller teased him by refusing to help him get something.
“Did you ask for his number?”
“You’re joking right? That’s super awkward, and plus he’s also kinda shy.” Seonghwa moves to the sofa, running a hand through his hair. “Hongjoong, I think he’s an angel.”
“Angel, right,” Hongjoong snorts, and Seonghwa suddenly has a vivid image of him smothering Hongjoong with a pillow. “How is asking for a phone number awkward? You could just tell him that you want to be friends or something.”
There’s more rustling from the other end, and Seonghwa could hear hurried tapping as if Hongjoong is typing something on a computer.
“You’re right…I guess.” Seonghwa flops down and a sudden realization hits him. “Holy shit, I wore my fucking monkey pants when I gave him the cookies.”
He doesn’t hear a response for a heartbeat, and then a loud “pffft” explodes in his eardrums. Of course, instead of consoling him or something, Hongjoong start laughing. It’s official, Hongjoong is the worst friend ever.
“You—” Hongjoong is gasping for breath as he tries to form some sort of coherent sentence after laughing for, what Seonghwa could tell, five straight minutes. “Y-you wore the m-monkey— pffft.”
He couldn’t even finish before he dissolves into the ugliest heaving laughter Seonghwa has ever heard. Seonghwa supposes it couldn’t get any worse than say if he called literally anyone else. That said, it doesn’t make Hongjoong any less of an aggravating asshole.
“Glad to see my embarrassment brings you so much joy,” Seonghwa seethes as he pinches the bridge of his nose, already feeling an oncoming headache. “Can we get back to the issue now? I need to fix this.”
“Ok, ok.” Hongjoong takes a huge gulp of air before sputtering. “At least you didn’t go out in your chimpanties.”
Another hoot of laughter rings as a loud crash sounds over the phone. Seonghwa crosses his fingers, hoping Hongjoong fell off the bed or something.
“Can we please not do this,” he hisses as he briefly imagines just driving over to Hongjoong’s and beating his ass. He should’ve called Jongho or something, the youngest in their little group somehow the most mature for some goddamn reason. But judging by the way Jongho has been becoming more compliant to Wooyoung and San’s incessant pranks in trying to hook Seonghwa up, which usually involved the younger quite literally luring him to a blind date, he couldn’t really say.
“Fine, fine,” Hongjoong manages to say after finally calming down from his ten minute laughing session. “But I’m telling you, your best bet is to befriend him or something, if he really is shy. Get his number or something. Maybe he likes guys with monkey pants—”
Seonghwa hangs up before he could launch the phone at his wall.
He opens his mouth to scream, but decides against it as he could once again embarrass himself, instead screwing his eyes shut and hoping that this is all just a sleep-deprived manic dream that somehow coalesced itself into Seonghwa’s greatest fears and Hongjoong’s irritating laugh. Now all it needed was for the floor to drop from beneath Seonghwa’s feet and send him plummeting into open space, and although normally Seonghwa wouldn’t wish for that, this is all he needs to convince himself that all of this is not happening right now.
A ping from his phone shakes him out of his depressive stupor, and he picks it up, praying that it was God sending him a “hey, my bad, you want a redo?” or something even though he’s the furthest thing from religious.
Instead it’s Hongjoong, who sends him a picture of a baboon with its ass towards the camera and his face edited onto its head captioned Go clap those cheeks.
Seonghwa shoves his phone under a pillow and goes to make himself more cookies.
——————————
“Seonghwa~” A voice singsongs the moment he walks into the lecture hall. Of fucking course he couldn’t have a moment of peace where he could beat himself senseless with the embarrassing moment with his neighbor two days ago.
He hadn’t taken Hongjoong’s advice; one, because his friend is a fucking jerk, and two, because he couldn’t muster enough courage to actually go back into the hall and stand in front of that door to offer his phone number as a sign of friendship . And yes, he did spend the entire weekend mulling over his cookies half-dressed up and half not hovering in front of his apartment door like a loser. And no Hongjoong had not stopped editing his face on a massive array of monkeys that Seonghwa was almost certain the other didn’t know about until Seonghwa’s monkey pants incident happened.
He ignores the voice and sits as far back from the front as he could.
“Seeoonghwa~” It’s closer this time, and more annoying.
He does his best to just pretend it’s a gust of wind and takes out his laptop and a notebook plus a couple pens just in case. Luck isn’t with him today as the owner of the voice is persistent in his apparent need to annoy the hell out of Seonghwa, appearing in his line of vision with a sly smile and a calculating glint in his eyes. Seonghwa groans.
“What do you want, San?” He asks between clenched teeth, making sure to not make it his irritation obvious or else he’d be subjected to more relentless teasing.
“Oh, nothing,” San replies innocently, straightening and setting his ass right down on Seonghwa’s notebook. “Just heard you have a new neighbor.”
Seonghwa can feel heat rising in his face. He’s going to throttle Kim Hongjoong.
“Yes, I do.”
“Mhm.” San hums, wiggling on his notebook.
“I'm going to destroy your ass if you don’t get the hell off my notes.” Seonghwa turns on his phone in an attempt to distract himself, scrolling through his feed and making it seem like he had better stuff to do.
“Sorry dude,” San says with a shit-eating grin on his face with his hands shooting up in surrender, but he doesn’t get up. “I don’t swing that way.”
“You have a boyfriend, San,” states Seonghwa as he reloads the page again and hopes that San would leave.
“Ah yeah. You’re just ugly.” It takes every bit of Seonghwa’ patience to not launch himself at the black haired boy with his stupid slitted eyebrow. “So, you gonna tell me about your neighbor? Or do I have to meet him myself?”
Technically, San isn’t threatening him, but based on past experiences, Seonghwa takes it very much as a threat. He’s not about to have to pay for another hole in the wall or a busted down door. Hell, he’s not even sure if Yeosang, the shy angel he is, would be able to handle the energy of Seonghwa’s friends barreling through his front door. Yunho would not doubt be bouncing around at a distance but then getting close for some random act of affection that really creeped out Seonghwa’s last-last-last-last neighbor and Mingi would probably be loud from his shared energy with the other, tripping over things and possibly breaking them because somehow he evolved to include every last clumsy bone one could possibly have. Wooyoung would be even louder (if that is possible, and it is with the multiple times Seonghwa had to slap a hand over the younger’s mouth to shut him up) and probably overwhelm poor Yeosang, who he could already imagine standing quietly to the side. Don’t even get him started on San, who was the person responsible for the hole and the door Seonghwa had to pay for.
The other two would probably be fine, though he is certain Hongjoong would expose him to Yeosang like the asshole he is, leaving Jongho as the only person who Seonghwa could trust around his pretty blond neighbor.
“I’ll drop by with Wooyoungie today if you don’t answer,” San persists with his eyebrow (the goddamn slitted one) raised.
“You are not coming over,” Seonghwa answers firmly, “Not when I have a piece due. And he’s shy, so don’t even think about climbing through my window when I’m not home and invading his apartment.”
“I would never.” The younger places an offended hand on his chest as he reels back in mock surprise. “How dare you think of me like that?”
“You wouldn’t but your annoying ass boyfriend would, and you’d follow.”
“Fair.” San smirks, resuming his position with his feet dangling casually off the table. The lecture hall is slowly filling up, and Seonghwa prays for class to start already, because one more second with San means one more splitting headache to deal with while he’s actually trying to learn. “You still need to tell me about him though.”
“Fine!” Seonghwa says, throwing his hands up dramatically. “He’s blond, pretty, and kind of on the smaller side. Is that enough for you?”
San makes a dramatic show of licking his lip slowly, humming mischievously as his eyes narrow in on Seonghwa. Seonghwa can hear the gears in the other’s head turning, and he thinks maybe, just maybe , he shouldn’t have mentioned the pretty part. Fortunately, San doesn’t get the time to irritate him further as their professor walks in, a middle-aged man with a penchant for yelling out his lessons, which made it both easier and harder to learn. However, San does settle down in the seat beside him, and although he stopped speaking, Seonghwa can hear his voice buzzing around in his head from just the stares the other is giving him.
Surprisingly, San doesn’t bother him throughout the lesson by sending texts to his computer like he usually did, and a naive man that Seonghwa is, he thought he’d be able to get through the lecture without an intent to destroy distracting him from taking notes. He looks to the side a few times just in case and only catches the younger beside him texting someone that is presumably Wooyoung (which also means that he’s going to ask for Seonghwa’s notes some time before a test), and based on the abundance of hearts he could spy from his peripherals, Seonghwa could assume they are not talking about him.
He is eventually proven wrong as a message from San pops up at the corner of his laptop just as the professor is describing something about the contrasting colors creating depth in a piece. Looking over at San, he finds nothing has changed from the other’s expression, so he found no harm in opening it up.
“Ooooo, Seonghwa has a cru-ush, Seonghwa has a cru-ush.”
Of course San would find time to pay Walmart Jesus to singsong that line in the 1.5 hour lecture. Fortunately Seonghwa had plugged his earbuds in and the sound didn’t blast through the entire hall, but it did blow his ears out and his ears started ringing after hurriedly slamming down the space button to pause it. And if Seonghwa’s knowledge of San is as extensive as he thinks it is, the other probably already has it set as his ringtone, and then based on the amount of times San’s phone screen has lit up, that’s all he’s going to be hearing probably every second of the day for the next couple of months give or take.
Hey God, it’s me . Seonghwa thinks as he tries his best to focus on not slamming his head down onto his keyboard. Please eradicate my friend with a bolt of lightning. Or open up the ground underneath me and let me fall, I don’t care.
His prayer is left unanswered as the professor yells at him to answer a question he’s been too preoccupied to hear.
Fucking end me .
——————————
Somehow in the span of two hours, the number of people involved in the whole “new neighbor” situation multiplied, and now he’s sitting with his head in his hands with his shirt soaked at the elbow from the melting puddle of water sliding down his glass. A high-pitched laugh leaves one of his companion’s mouth, and Seonghwa considers hurling his overpriced smoothie at the other’s head.
“Y-you wore—” The pink-haired piece of shit that also decided to follow him to the cafe is trying his best to hold himself together as his shoulder shudders intensely from laughter over his drink. “Y—you wore the mon—monkey pants.”
Apparently his friends love to remind him that he wore the monkey pants as if his brain wasn’t helpfully supplying that information every few minutes. Every time he does somewhat forget about his unfortunate situation, a new person pops up to remind him that he’s in fact an embarrassment.
“Your game is getting weak , Seonghwa,” Wooyoung ( fucking Wooyoung ) jeers as he stops his peal of high-pitched laughter. “You couldn take a few lessons from me, I managed to snag myself a boyfriend without embarrassing myself.”
“The fucking law of attraction broke because you annoyed it to death,” Seonghwa grits out as he feels the chill of his drenched shirt sweeping into his skin. “And you fell on your face the first time you saw San walk into the studio.”
Satisfaction spreads through him as he hears Wooyoung’s shocked sputtering across from him, but he doesn’t have the chance to gloat over his own victory before Yunho interrupts with a delighted yell.
Oh god .
He doesn’t even want to look up, but he does anyways despite multiple warning firing off in his brain.
“Oooo, Seonghwa has a cru-ush, Seonghwa has a cru-ush.”
Three and a half more headaches are standing in front of their table. One particularly blue bitch has his phone out with the audio playing with an aggravating grin on his face and one hand stuck casually in his pocket.
“Hongjoong, I swear to god I’m going to fucking kill you,” Seonghwa groans as he stuffs his face back into his hands again.
“Do it hoe,” Hongjoong responds with no hesitation, bumping his hip into Wooyoung’s shoulder to scooch into the tiny booth. “ Seonghwa has a cru-ush, Seonghwa has a cru-ush.”
He mimics the discount Jesus, even having the audacity to harmonize. And while Seonghwa can appreciate a good harmony, he is not about to have his crush (it’s not a crush by the way. Seonghwa just found Yeosang astoundingly gorgeous) implemented into a song. Seonghwa is seconds from jumping Hongjoong if it isn’t for Jongho, who slips into the seat beside him and grabs Hongjoong’s phone, turning off the video.
“You’re no fun, Jjong,” Hongjoong pouts, but he puts the phone into his pockets anyways. “Anyways, can we meet Pretty Neighbor today?”
“No.”
“C’mon, please?” Oh lord, of course Mingi knows about it too. “We just want to be his friend.”
God, if you can hear me, just fucking kill me.
“You guys just missed him!” Yunho pipes up with a mouthful of pastry. “He actually left just before you guys came over!”
“No!” San wails as he throws himself over Mingi, sobbing dramatically while gripping tightly onto the taller’s hoodie sleeve. “What did he look like? Did you find out his name?”
Seonghwa could see the gigantic grin suddenly appearing on Wooyoung’s face as he twirls his straw around in his iced coffee. He panics and leans over the table quickly, slapping a hand over the younger’s mouth. An angered “mmph” leaves Wooyoung’s mouth as he struggles a bit, trying to pull Seonghwa’s hand off to no avail. But before Seonghwa could do anything else, something wet and hot connects with his palm. Recoiling back in disgust, he quickly wipes his hand on a napkin that he picks up from beside Yunho. Something in his head tells him that he probably saw Yunho sneeze into the napkin, but he’ll take what he can get right now.
“Well,” Wooyoung continues, as if he wasn’t just half smothered. “Mr. Fashion Student here went to order his drink, and then this really pretty blond dude walks in, and when I say pretty, I mean like Michelangelo sculpture pretty. So anyways, at that time we didn’t know it was the neighbor, right Yunho?”
Yunho nods helpfully, fully absorbed in the chocolate croissant he’s scarfing down.
“And this buffoon right here became so red when Pretty Boy walks in, and like he hovered behind the poor dude being all creepy and stuff.” Seonghwa puts all his strength into throwing the crumpled up napkin at Wooyoung while the other just laughs as it lands pathetically at the center of the table. “But then he finally goes up to say hi I guess, and he bumped into the poor guy and his drink fell to the floor!”
Seonghwa expects at least a meager drop of sympathy at the tale of his suffering from his friends, as maybe they aren’t all assholes, but is sorely disappointed when everyone bursts into laughter. Wooyoung is in tears as he finishes the sentence, and the rest all collapse on top of one another as they laugh at Seonghwa’s miserable life.
Technically he should’ve known that Yeosang would turn after getting his coffee, but he didn’t expect him to whip around that quickly. The worst part was that the impact of Seonghwa’s shoulder managed to loosen Yeosang’s fingers from shock and the blond had subsequently let go of the frappuccino he ordered. Yes, he did manage to save some of his dignity by offering to pay for Yeosang’s drink, and the other didn’t seem to mind all that much, with only a flushed face and a shy smile while also apologizing profusely for not looking where he was going (he’s an actual angel), but that marks the second time Seonghwa made a fool of himself in front of his neighbor.
“I hate you all,” he grumbles as he drops his head against the sticky table top, vowing to himself to scrub his skin off in the shower today.
Everybody ignores him and continues to laugh, with only Yunho patting his back somewhat in a caring gesture, but he was laughing too, so Seonghwa is not letting him off the hook.
“Dude, stop being so awkward and just ask for his number,” says Hongjoong as everyone manages to gather their bearings again. “You already embarrassed yourself so many times in front of him and he’s been fine with it. I’m sure he’d be fine being your friend at this point.”
“Are you calling me embarrassing?!” Seonghwa gasps, his head shooting up immediately and just barely missing Jongho’s face. “I have to be friends with you guys.”
“At least we have boyfriends,” sniffs Mingi casually as he steals a bite of San’s cake.
“Yeah, ‘cause apparently stupid attracts stupid,” Seonghwa says spitefully as he takes a violent slurp of his smoothie. “You’re all dicks.”
“You’re just mad because you like your new neighbor and can’t do anything about it.” Seonghwa opens his mouth to rebuke hotly that he didn’t like his new neighbor and that he just found him pretty, but Wooyoung butts in with a: “I’ll get his number for you.”
And Seonghwa shut his mouth.
——————————
Turns out Wooyoung did get Yeosang’s number, informing everyone over lunch one day that they shared one course together. On the contrary, Seonghwa is unsuccessful in making any progress towards getting closer with Yeosang. Sure, Wooyoung did hand him Yeosang’s phone number, but he’s not about to text the guy just randomly out of nowhere.
To make matters even worse, Seonghwa barely bumps into Yeosang in their apartment building, the only times that he sees the other is through the window peering out into the hall, either when the blond is slumping tiredly back home after a long day or when he passes by early morning to head out. Basically during the times that Seonghwa is boneless on a chair and just staring into space from exhaustion.
All in all Seonghwa could admit that he’s a coward, but a justifiable coward as he didn’t want to fuck up his already fucked up impression on Yeosang again.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Hongjoong states flatly as he types away at his laptop across from Seonghwa. They are in Hongjoong’s studio working out the kinks in their respective projects; Hongjoong’s being a collaborative music piece while Seonghwa has to design an entire line of clothing. To be fair, it’s not a time to be discussing Seonghwa’s woes, but first of all, the room is soundproof and no one would dare bother Hongjoong when he’s in academic captivity (something Seonghwa is trying to figure out how to do because sometimes he couldn’t even take a shower peacefully without someone barging in and asking where the hell he keeps the Hot Cheetos).
“Shut up, you act like you weren’t the same with Yunho,” Seonghwa retorts hotly, looking at the blinking cursor underneath Yeosang’s name before shutting his phone off again.
“I wasn’t ,” Hongjoong fires back, his cheeks turning redder by the second. “It lasted for only a week .”
“Well it’s only one day past a week, okay? Give me a break.” Hongjoong doesn’t respond after that, sinking into a sulky mood with his bottom lip jutting, typing even faster.
“Wait! That means you do have a crush on that Yeosang kid!” He suddenly perks up, his expression changing impossibly fast and his eyes gleaming. “Holy shit, wait until I tell Yunho—”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Seonghwa growls, realizing his mistake as he grabs for Hongjoong’s laptop. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
Hongjoong just laughs and dodges his hands, ducking under him and scurrying away while typing away with a scarily steady hand. And boy, is he not surprised when he hears the classic “ Seonghwa has a cru-ush, Seonghwa has a cru-ush! ” sounding along with Hongjoong’s phone lighting up with texts.
About to kill Hongjoong? Yes. But surprised? Not at all.
“Kim Hongjoong,” he says, as calmly as he could in contrast to his mood. “Get back here or I’ll send Yunho the shit you’ve sent me for that entire week 24/7.”
“You wouldn’t,” gasps Hongjoong, freezing while squatting like a weird cat on top of his sofa.
“Try me,” Seonghwa threatens, leveling a deadly stare at the other.
“Fine, fine,” pouts the blue-haired man as he slides down from the couch. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re an asshole?.”
“It takes one to know one.” Seonghwa doesn’t even try to suppress his victorious grin when Hongjoong just sticks out his tongue in response.
In retrospect, he probably did the same when Hongjoong was harboring that gigantic crush on Yunho, but in his defense, Hongjoong is just as hopeless as he is right now. Although, granted, Hongjoong did speak to Yunho and also didn’t make him drop a drink or appear at his front door with uncomfortably tight and weirdly patterned pajama pants. In the end, they settle by each other again and resume working in silence.
“…So are you ever going to text him?”
“Not unless there’s a need to.”
“Fair, but just a warning, Wooyoung is his friend now.”
Hey God, is it too late to revoke my friendship with Wooyoung?
——————————
It’s been one hour of suspicious silence with Mingi and San. One hour with the lack of teasing about Yeosang and his terrible love life.
Seonghwa would be totally okay with it if he hadn’t spent basically his entire college life with these buffoons, and silence with any of them means bad . The last time any of them were this quiet, they almost set Jongho’s dorm room on fire.
Now, Seonghwa isn’t paranoid, but the complete lack of sound is actually kind of unnerving in a relatively empty bakery with only a tired cashier shuffling around the register. The problem is that the two in front of him have been exchanging suspicious glances when they thought Seonghwa wasn’t looking, the larger issue being that Seonghwa couldn’t decipher what the hell they’re scheming.
“Hey Hwa,” San suddenly pipes up, making Seonghwa jump a little. “Yeosang isn’t a bad neighbor, right?”
“No, why?” Confusion and worry begins to work its way into Seonghwa’s chest as he frowns. “Did he do anything?”
“Nah, just making sure.”
After that, the atmosphere is once more steeped into silence.
“Ok, spill it.” Seonghwa stands abruptly, slamming both hands down on the table and shocking everyone, including the cashier. “Why are you guys so quiet?”
“Damn, can’t we have a day where we just take a rest from speaking?” Mingi huffs, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Not when you were literally teasing me about Yeosang every single fucking second for two weeks straight.”
“Sorry we actually need time to think of new ways to call your love life pathetic,” San sniffs petulantly.
“Pathetic?!” A blow to Seonghwa’s pride, but at least they’re not quiet anymore.
“Just text Yeosang, grandpa!” Mingi adds on. “It’s not that hard!”
“I said that when you couldn’t ask Jongho out and remember what you said?” Mingi flushes incredibly red at the reminder of his boyfriend and how he had asked him out. “To quote you exactly, you said ‘It’s really hard when it’s someone that attractive’.”
“But I still did it, didn't I?” the taller pouts, not meeting Seonghwa’s eyes.
“Wait, does that mean you want to ask Yeosang out?” San butts in, his eyes gleaming mischievously.
“No!” Seonghwa screeches, causing the poor cashier to jump once more. “I’m just saying he’s pretty, okay?”
“And reminding us almost every day,” mumbles Mingi under his breath.
Is it too late to ask for new friends?
“God, I don’t even know if I want you guys to shut up or to keep talking because it’s just me suffering every time.” Seonghwa pinches the bridge of his nose as another headache begins to form.
“If you text Yeosang, maybe we’ll shut up.”
“I’m not texting Yeosang unless I need to,” Seonghwa reiterates with annoyance building up in him, both at himself and at his friends. He knows they mean well (maybe), but they haven’t even considered how Yeosang might feel about him at all. And not only that, Yeosang probably already forgot about him as they haven’t even seen each other since Yeosang moving in, and knowing how stressful college life is, Seonghwa wouldn’t be surprised if dating is the last thing on his list. “I’m leaving.”
Sure, Seonghwa might have said that a tad bit too coldly, but at least the two of them had the heart to look a bit guilty as he packs up his stuff. He feels bad for being so harsh, but he didn’t need six people meddling in his love life when he doesn’t even know if the other person even remotely likes him at all. So he leaves without another word.
He ends up laying in bed deep into the night with his thoughts swimming and being too loud in general. He doesn’t even know what he’s thinking about. Yeosang? A little. Apologizing to San and Mingi? Probably tomorrow if they don’t start with the whole Yeosang thing again. And some other stuff including deadlines and failure.
Just as he is about to sink into sleep, blaring music suddenly blasts from the other side of his wall. Yeosang’s side, specifically.
Maybe it’s just a mistake , he thinks, screwing his eyes shut as he lays spread eagle under his blankets. It’ll be turned off soon enough.
It doesn’t, and Seonghwa eventually has to cover his ears with his pillows to muffle the sound.
What the fuck did I do to deserve this , is the last thought on his mind before another screaming chorus shakes his walls.
——————————
Five days.
Five days since Seonghwa had a proper night’s sleep.
Five days since Yeosang suddenly decided to blast all genres of music during the night.
Five fucking days, and Seonghwa is at his limit.
“Dude, are you okay?” Yunho says as Seonghwa quite literally face plants into the other’s chest. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks,” he grumbles, his words slurring a little as he shakes his head to get it out of its daze.
“What happened?” Yunho asks, sounding concerned as he leans down a little to observe Seonghwa’s very big, very deep eye bags. “You need to sleep more.”
“I know,” he answers shortly, pushing Yunho’s head away and continuing to walk towards the art studio. He needs to borrow wire cutters.
“Hey.” Yunho chases after him, grabbing his shoulder. “Dude, what happened? Is there something going on?”
“Just music.” Seonghwa continues forward, because if he stops now, he’s going to keel over and sleep in the middle of the road. “Really loud music.”
“Really loud— oh fuck,” Yunho mumbles, biting his lip as he continues to follow Seonghwa. “Is someone playing really loud music at night? Is that what you mean?”
Seonghwa nods, not having enough energy to say anymore. He’s not holding anything against Yeosang really, though he would appreciate the pretty blond next door not to blast music at night. Personally, he doesn’t think Yeosang looked the type to do something insensitive like this on purpose, so he kind of just lets it slide. Also he hates confrontation so there’s also that.
“It’s not Yeosang right?” Yunho trails after him as he fires off one question after another, and fortunately Seonghwa doesn’t feel that snappy today.
“It’s him, but it’s—” a yawn cuts him off. “It’s fine. He’s probably stressed about creating choreo for the dance club.”
Seonghwa doesn't actually know if Yeosang is in the dance club, but he assumes because Wooyoung tries to recruit everyone to the dance club. Also because he has heard some of the music Yeosang plays ass o'clock at night stream out of the dance club practice studio, and personally remembering his time at the club, he remembers how stressful it could be sometimes.
“You—” Yunho is once again worrying his lip. “Can try texting him about it?”
“Mmm,” Seonghwa mumbles, only half listening. He hears something like a sigh from behind him as he searches through the wire box for his wire cutters.
“Seonghwa, if you don’t text him, at least tell him to turn his music down,” Yunho suggests as he hovers next to the box.
“Mhm, yeah,” Seonghwa wipes away a stray tear as he yawns. A wire cutter is shoved under his nose as he turns back to the box.
“Here,” Jongho offers with a tiny sliver of concern in his gaze. “You should take a nap in your studio.”
“Have to finish dress,” he yawns again, accepting the cutter gratefully and turning back towards his studio. It’s not even that far from the art studio, just a couple doors down, but it feels like years of walking through sludge before Seonghwa could get there.
Jongho and Yunho trials after him like lost puppies, hovering some distance behind him as he powers towards his studio even though he’s probably walking super slowly and looking like a fool right now.
He slams his head into the wall by his studio door and only manages not to fall over because of the two behind him. Their mouths are moving as they look down on him, probably asking him if he’s okay and whether he’s going to expire right there in their arms at that moment, or maybe something about him being an idiot; Seonghwa isn’t quite sure. He just lies there, staring up at the ceiling with all strength leaving his body. He probably looks like he’s astral-projecting right now, but it’s really the sleep deprivation and bottles of caffeine he downed this morning to keep awake during some lectures. Basically lugged into the studio, he thinks maybe he should actually confront Yeosang about the whole music situation.
——————————
Seonghwa, for the life of him, can not build up the nerve to text Yeosang. It’s two a.m., the music is vibrating the wall by his head, but he could not pick up his phone and just type in a simple “hey, it’s Seonghwa from next door, could you please turn down your music?” or anything of the sort.
It takes a particularly loud EDM break pounding along with his headache for him to shoot straight up, wrap his blanket around his body, and head out to the front door. He doesn’t have time to care about the way he looks right now, but he’s pretty much in the safe zone after actually torching the monkey pants and replacing it with just plain and simple sweatpants. Feet as heavy as the bags under his eyes, he shuffles up to Yeosang’s door and rings the doorbell. Normally, he might have hesitated a little, but for god’s sake, he’s not about to fall asleep while presenting his pieces next week.
The music immediately stops, and Seonghwa could hear quick footsteps before the door in front of him cracks open.
Ah yes, this is exactly why he could not, for the life of him, confront Yeosang.
For starters, the blond is looking up at him with big, innocent eyes and a hesitation in his movements as he moves to fully peek out from behind the door. He’s still amazingly gorgeous and not at all disheveled from whatever he was doing before, which Seonghwa assumes was dancing but it seems that he’s wrong.
“Hi, um, Seonghwa,” Yeosang starts timidly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he looks anywhere but Seonghwa.
“Hey…” Suddenly, Seonghwa becomes painfully aware of how terrifying he must look and runs a hand through his hair, tugging the blanket tighter around his body.
They stare at each other, or it’s really Seonghwa that’s staring at Yeosang, as an awkward silence settles between them.
“So, I know it’s like, really late right now,” Seonghwa continues, scratching the back of his neck as his sleep-addled brain decides that it would be the perfect time to realize that he’s actually half naked. Yeosang seems to have noticed too, as he suddenly turns an alarming shade of red under his blond hair.
“Look, I just, kind of need you to turn down the music?” He coughs, self consciously shrinking into the warmth of his blanket cocoon. “I mean, it’s just at least until I finish my presentation next week.”
“O-oh, I’m sorry,” Yeosang stutters, “I, uh, didn’t realize—”
“It’s fine.” Seonghwa tries to smile comfortingly. “I assume you’re just as stressed as I am.”
Yeosang looks genuinely guilty, and it physically hurt him a little. The other is playing with his fingers again as he looks at the floor.
“Hey, um, how about let’s go out sometime during the weekend?” Seonghwa suggests, a sudden burst of confidence prompting him to ask. “I’m sure you need a break just as much as I do, and we could learn more about each other if you’d want.”
Yeosang’s head pops up, his eyes widening in surprise and his lips parting slightly, an incredibly endearing act that makes Seonghwa go into cardiac arrest for a brief second.
“You’re…Are you sure? I mean I probably must’ve bothered you so much…” Yeosang sounds miserable, wringing his hands underneath the large sleeves of his sweater. “You look like you haven’t slept for days.”
“It’s fine,” Seonghwa winces, feeling the puffiness of his most likely bloodshot eyes heavily hanging above his vision. “It’s not like you did it on purpose, right?”
Yeosang looks even guiltier now, and suspicion begins to fester underneath his skin.
“Right?”
“Actually—” Yeosang mumbles, tugging at his fingers. “Um, Wooyoung asked me to play it actually…He said it would help you.”
Woo— Jung fucking Wooyoung . Seonghwa could feel his eyebrows twitch at Yeosang’s confession.
“I’m sorry, you mean Wooyoung right?” He asks between gritted teeth. “Black hair, annoying as fuck, and just asking to get murdered?”
Yeosang hesitates before dipping his head in affirmation. So that’s why Yunho looked so guilty when he saw Seonghwa this morning. Actually, he bet all of his fucking friends were in on it, trying to get him to confront Yeosang either by text or in person. God help him or he’s actually going to stab them with scissors.
Seeing Seonghwa’s terrifying expression, Yeosang seems to panic a little, opening the door almost fully now and grabbing onto Seonghwa’s blanket cape.
“I was in on it!” The blond blurts out. “I just, thought you looked really nice…and hot, but like we never see each other, so I got really excited when Wooyoung said he knows you.”
His voice begins to falter as he continues, seeming to get more flustered by the second with his ears turning different hues of red. Seonghwa freezes in surprise, the fist he didn’t know he was clenching loosening considerably.
“You were in on it?”
“Y—yeah.” Yeosang lets go of the blanket and his gaze drops back down to the floor again. “I didn’t know it would make you lose so much sleep though…I’m sorry.”
Shock renders Seonghwa silent as he just stares at the top of Yeosang’s head. So Yeosang didn’t think he was an absolute fool? And actually wanted to know him better too?
Am I dreaming right now?
He pinches himself and yelps a little out of pain.
Hey God, it’s me again. I’m sorry for slandering you ever ,and I just want to say thanks for giving me a chance to fix my terrible love life.
Most of the anger he felt just a moment ago dissipates as he ascends into a stage of relief and euphoria unlike any other.
“You…want to get to know me better?” He gapes stupidly, feeling all jittery and warm even though it’s a relatively cold night.
Yeosang looks up and nods sadly.
“Look, how about this.” Seonghwa suppresses his crazed emotions and manages a rather calm smile in an attempt to sooth Yeosang. “We can talk about this when it’s not two in the morning and over some coffee tomorrow?”
Surprise once again lights up Yeosang’s features in that endearing fashion that makes Seonghwa’s heart skip a beat. A tentative relief begins to slip onto his neighbor’s face, and Seonghwa thinks maybe he should’ve tried doing this earlier.
“Okay.”
Maybe things won’t turn out terribly after all.
“So did you actually like my pants when we first met? Or were you just trying not to be rude?” Seonghwa asks as he combs his fingers through Yeosang’s hair.
“Your thighs looked really nice under the monkeys,” Yeosang mumbles truthfully as his eyes narrow comfortably, moving his head so Seonghwa could pet him easier. “You’re a terrible liar by the way.”
Seonghwa sputters and pushes the younger’s head off his lap.