Chapter Text
San sighed as he pushed the last of the boxes into his new apartment.
The third one this year.
He stood there for a moment, one hand still resting on the cardboard box in front of him, and looked around the unfamiliar space.
Another apartment. Another set of walls that didn’t know him yet.
For a brief second, he wondered if he should even bother unpacking everything.
There was no guarantee he would still be here long enough for it to matter.
Maybe by the end of the quarter, he’d already be looking for another place. Maybe these boxes would be sealed shut again, carried out the same way they had been carried in.
The thought wasn’t upsetting. Not anymore.
San had gotten used to it.
With a quiet exhale, he decided against making more work for himself. He dragged the miscellaneous boxes toward the small storage area instead, leaving them untouched. If he needed something later, he could always dig through them.
For now, he would only unpack what was necessary.
The things he actually used.
His utensils. His clothes. The few items that made the apartment functional enough to call it home — even if he wasn’t sure how long that word would apply.
He had gotten accepted on the spot by the café nearby.
The old man who owned the place hadn’t even needed much convincing. He had barely looked over San’s application before waving a hand dismissively and saying that he would be an idiot to turn away someone with a face like his.
As always.
It was always his face.
Not his work ethic. Not his patience. Not the fact that he genuinely tried to treat people kindly.
His appearance.
Choi San was a handsome man.
An undeniably attractive one.
He had the kind of features that made people look twice without even realizing they were doing it — a well-built frame, sharp cheekbones, a defined jawline, and an overall presence that naturally drew attention.
And San knew that.
He wasn’t ungrateful for it.
Being born with something so many people wished they had was a privilege. His appearance had opened doors for him more times than he could count.
But sometimes, he wondered what it would be like if people could look past it.
Because that was the problem.
People didn’t just see his face.
They built an entire person around it.
They assumed confidence where there was only quietness. They assumed arrogance where there was simply restraint. They assumed he was cold, untouchable, maybe even intimidating — because that was the kind of person they expected someone like him to be.
And when he inevitably failed to match the version of him they had created in their heads, they became disappointed.
They left.
Not because of who he was.
Because he wasn’t who they had imagined.
So, honestly?
If having less of what he had been given since birth meant people would see him before they saw his appearance, San would gladly accept it.
A little less beauty.
A little less attention.
Maybe then people would finally take the time to notice the person underneath.
San shook his head, forcing the thoughts aside as he made his way toward the living room.
The apartment still felt unfamiliar.
He wandered around at an unhurried pace, taking in every corner and doorway, trying to convince himself that this place could eventually feel like home.
Just as he rounded the couch, a soft thud echoed through the room.
He paused.
Another one followed.
Then another.
His brows knitted together as the rhythmic banging continued from somewhere beyond the wall separating his apartment from the neighboring unit.
San slowly turned his head, staring at the wall as though it had personally offended him.
“…There’s no way,” he muttered under his breath.
Maybe someone was assembling furniture.
Yeah.
That had to be it.
He had barely finished the thought before a soft, breathy moan drifted through the wall.
San went completely rigid.
His eyes widened to the size of saucers.
“…Oh.”
Heat rushed to his face almost instantly.
He puffed out his cheeks in silent embarrassment before hurriedly turning his back to the wall, as if he had accidentally walked in on someone rather than their private moment forcing its way into his apartment.
His ears burned.
He stared determinedly at the opposite wall, suddenly finding the plain coat rack by the entrance incredibly fascinating.
“Right…” he mumbled to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”
The muffled noises continued behind him.
San squeezed his eyes shut.
He had been in the apartment for less than twenty minutes, and already he was debating whether buying noise-canceling headphones should become his first priority.
“Perfect time to enjoy the veranda.”
San bounced lightly on his feet, eager to put as much distance between himself and the shared wall as possible.
Making a quick detour to the kitchen, he reached for the strawberry juice box he had picked up on his way home earlier that afternoon. It had been sitting untouched on the counter among the still-unpacked essentials.
His fingers wrapped around the chilled carton before he headed toward the sliding glass door.
Fresh air.
That was exactly what he needed.
Preferably the kind that didn’t come with an unintentional soundtrack.
He slid the door open and stepped onto the narrow veranda, immediately greeted by a gentle breeze that carried away some of the warmth lingering on his cheeks.
“…Much better,” he murmured to himself.
Taking a small sip of the sweet strawberry juice, he rested his forearms against the railing and let his shoulders finally relax.
At least out here…
…it was quiet.
➿
Sighing softly, San stopped in front of the café’s entrance.
The warm glow spilling through the windows contrasted with the cool morning air, and for a brief moment, he simply stood there with one hand wrapped around the strap of his backpack.
First days were always the same.
New faces.
New expectations.
New people deciding who he was before he had the chance to introduce himself.
He let out a slow breath, cleared his throat, and pushed the door open.
The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked pastries welcomed him instantly.
Before he had the chance to properly look around, an enthusiastic voice called out from behind the counter.
“Ah! The new face.”
The elderly owner emerged with an easy smile, waving San over as though they had known each other for years.
“There you are. Come on.”
San followed without complaint, weaving between neatly arranged tables until they reached the small staff room tucked away behind the counter.
The owner rummaged through a shelf before pulling out a neatly folded black shirt embroidered with the café’s logo across the chest.
“Here.”
He handed it to San along with a small silver name tag.
Choi San.
His name had already been carefully engraved into the polished metal.
“Put these on.”
San accepted them with both hands.
“Thank you.”
The older man gave an approving nod before pointing toward the main café.
“For today, you’ll only be working the register. No drinks, no kitchen, no running around.”
His tone was firm, but reassuring.
“Just get comfortable with the place first.”
With that, he gave San a light pat on the shoulder before leaving him alone to change, the door clicking shut behind him.
San took barely two minutes to clock himself in before making his way behind the register.
He positioned himself in front of the touchscreen, eyes scanning the seemingly endless menu displayed on it.
Coffee after coffee.
Tea.
Smoothies.
Seasonal drinks.
His gaze moved carefully from one item to the next, silently memorizing their names and prices before the morning rush could put his memory to the test.
For the time being, the café remained pleasantly quiet.
Through the large front windows, the neighborhood slowly came to life.
Commuters passed by with purposeful strides, some sparing the café nothing more than a fleeting glance before continuing on their way.
Others didn’t acknowledge it at all.
Every now and then, however, someone would slow down.
A pair of elderly neighbors peeked through the windows as they chatted.
A businessman briefly checked the menu displayed outside.
And then came a small group of high school girls on their way to the nearby school.
Their conversation faltered for just a moment as they looked toward the register.
Toward him.
One nudged another with her elbow.
Another whispered something that made the rest suppress quiet giggles before they hurried off again, throwing one last glance over their shoulders.
San noticed.
Of course he noticed.
He simply pretended he hadn’t, lowering his eyes back to the menu on the screen as if he were still studying the difference between two espresso drinks. It was easier that way.
Just then, the cheerful chime above the entrance rang through the café, announcing the arrival of customers.
San instinctively straightened.
His shoulders squared, and he lifted his head with a polite smile already forming on his lips.
The moment he saw who had walked in, however, that smile almost faltered.
It was the same group of high school girls from earlier.
The ones who had lingered outside the window.
They entered in a flurry of laughter, nudging one another with their shoulders and barely containing their excitement as they made their way toward the counter.
San resisted the urge to sigh.
Of course.
One of the girls stepped forward while the others hovered just behind her, whispering amongst themselves.
“Hi~,” she greeted brightly, her voice carrying a teasing melody that made the others giggle all over again.
“Welcome.”
San offered a courteous bow out of habit before straightening again.
“What would you like to order?”
His voice remained calm and professional.
At least, he hoped it did.
In reality, he could feel his heartbeat picking up for reasons he couldn’t quite explain.
Maybe it was because all of them were looking at him.
Not at the menu.
Not at the pastries displayed in the glass case.
At him.
He swallowed discreetly, fingers curling around the edge of the register as he waited for one of them to actually place an order.
The girl, however, didn’t answer his question.
Instead of placing her order, she leaned forward over the counter ever so slightly, swaying on her feet with an unmistakably shy smile.
“Are you new here?”
A faint blush dusted her cheeks as she caught her upper lip between her teeth, stealing another glance at him.
Behind her, her friends exchanged excited looks, barely containing their whispers.
San looked at her for a brief moment.
Then, without missing a beat, he let the silence linger just long enough to make it clear that he had no intention of entertaining the conversation.
It wasn’t that he wanted to be unfriendly.
He simply knew where these interactions usually led.
Before long, they would decide he was colder than they had expected.
Too quiet.
Too serious.
Too different from the version of him they had already imagined.
So it was easier not to encourage it in the first place.
“We have a new seasonal menu,” he said politely, gesturing toward the plastic menu stand resting atop the refrigerated dessert display.
“If you’d like, I can recommend one of the drinks.”
His tone remained warm enough to avoid sounding dismissive, yet professional enough to gently steer the conversation back to what they had come for.
Or at least…
…what they were supposed to have come for.
Despite San’s obvious lack of interest in steering the conversation away from ordering, the girls could barely contain themselves.
One of them let out a tiny squeal before immediately clapping both hands over her mouth.
The others dissolved into muffled giggles behind their palms.
The girl at the front beamed.
“Yes, please,” she replied eagerly, nodding several times.
“Something cold.”
She pressed her lips together, trying—and failing—to hide how excited she was.
San glanced toward the menu for a brief second, genuinely considering the options.
“If you’re looking for something refreshing…”
His eyes returned to hers.
“I’d recommend the strawberry mango smoothie.”
As he spoke, the corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly.
It wasn’t a practiced customer-service smile.
It was small.
Natural.
Barely noticeable.
Yet it was enough for the shallow dimples in his cheeks to make a quiet appearance.
“They’re made with fresh fruit,” he continued. “It’s one of my favorites.”
The confession escaped him so casually that he didn’t think twice about it.
The girls, however, certainly did.
Their eyes widened in unison.
Another chorus of suppressed squeals rippled through the group as they stared at him in complete disbelief, as though the tiny smile had been the greatest reward they could have hoped for.
“Okay…”
The girl glanced over her shoulder at her friends, silently seeking their approval before looking back at San.
“Four, please.”
San gave a small nod.
“Of course.”
His fingers moved swiftly across the register, selecting each drink before reading the total aloud.
Once the payment went through, he expected the conversation to end.
It didn’t.
The café settled into an awkward silence.
Since the smoothies still had to be prepared, the four girls remained standing at the counter.
Or rather…
One of them remained standing at the counter.
The others had at least wandered toward the pastry display, pretending to browse while occasionally peeking over.
The girl who had ordered, however, made no effort to hide what she was doing.
She simply…
Stared.
Not the brief, absentminded glance customers sometimes gave.
She looked at him with complete focus, as though he were something to admire behind glass instead of a person standing a meter away.
San shifted his weight.
Then busied himself straightening a stack of napkins that didn’t actually need straightening.
When that failed to break the silence, he finally looked back up.
“…Is there anything else?”
His brows lifted slightly.
The question came out a touch flatter than he had intended.
A little less warm.
A little more strained.
The instant the words left his mouth, San regretted the tone.
It wasn’t the girl’s fault.
Not entirely.
Still…
He wished she would stop looking at him like that.
Judging by the deepening blush spreading across her cheeks, however, she seemed to have interpreted his voice very differently.
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before nervously twirling another around her finger.
“Um…”
“How old are you?”
The question escaped in a rush.
Then, after a tiny pause, she added,
“Are you… also a student?”
San blinked.
The question caught him off guard enough that he forgot to answer immediately.
"Twenty-four," he said after a brief pause.
Then, because ignoring the second question felt rude, he added, "I used to be. Not anymore."
"Twenty-four..." the girl repeated softly, as if committing the number to memory.
Her friends immediately burst into muffled whispers behind her.
"Unnie, stop staring!" one of them hissed through a laugh.
"I’m not staring!"
"You absolutely are."
San suddenly became very interested in the receipt printer beside him.
He cleared his throat and pressed a few unnecessary buttons on the register while pretending to check the order status.
Thankfully, the sound of a blender roaring to life from behind the counter cut through the awkwardness.
The owner glanced over briefly, clearly noticing the scene, but wisely chose not to comment.
"Your smoothies will be ready in a minute," San said, latching onto the safe topic with visible relief.
The girl nodded, though her attention still hadn’t left him.
"You really are new here," she said with a shy smile.
"Today’s my first day."
"Then we’re your first customers!"
San hesitated.
Technically, they were.
"...I guess you are."
The small admission earned another round of excited giggles.
He could feel heat creeping up the back of his neck again.
Why are they acting like this?
Most people would have been irritated by the constant attention.
San, unfortunately, only became increasingly embarrassed by it.
As soon as the four smoothies were placed on the pickup counter, he slid them forward with the speed of a man escaping a social disaster.
"Here you go. Four strawberry mango smoothies."
"Thank you!" the girls chorused.
The one who had done most of the talking lingered a second longer before giving him one last bright smile.
"We’ll come again, oppa."
San nearly dropped the receipt in his hand.
Before he could respond, the group dissolved into laughter and hurried out of the café, the bell above the door jingling wildly in their wake.
Silence returned. San stared at the closed door for three long seconds.
Then he slowly lowered his head onto the counter with a muffled groan.
From somewhere behind him, the owner’s amused chuckle floated through the café.
"First day and you already have regulars."
San kept his forehead against the counter.
"Please don’t say it like that."
The old man laughed harder.
The bell above the entrance chimed once again.
San lifted his head, silently grateful for something—anything—that would distract him from the lingering embarrassment.
A man stepped inside.
Around his age, perhaps a year younger.
He wasn’t particularly tall, but he carried himself with enough confidence to make up for it. Long black hair framed his face, while uneven, spiky bangs rested just above his eyebrows, giving him an effortlessly carefree appearance.
The moment his eyes landed on San, he stopped walking.
“…Ooh la la.”
A low whistle escaped him.
His gaze traveled from San’s broad shoulders down to his waist.
Well…
As far as the counter would allow.
“Since when do Greek gods work in the neighborhood cafés?” he murmured, mostly to himself.
Unfortunately…
Not quietly enough.
San heard every word.
His fingers instinctively curled into a fist beneath the counter.
For the briefest moment, his eyes drifted toward the ceiling.
Seriously?
He couldn’t stop the tiny eye roll that slipped through before he caught himself.
One customer after another.
Always the same.
Different words.
Different people.
The exact same conversation.
He loosened his grip, forcing his expression back into something neutral before looking at the customer.
“Your order?”
San raised an eyebrow.
The words came out a little sharper than he had intended.
The man blinked.
Then, almost imperceptibly, the corners of his lips curled into an amused smile.
“Wow.”
He placed a hand over his heart in mock surprise.
“Calm down, papi.”
He dramatically glanced around the nearly empty café before spreading his arms.
“Who managed to ruin such a beautiful day for you?”
San stared at him in silence.
The question wasn’t answered.
Neither was the ridiculous nickname.
Instead, he simply waited.
One eyebrow lifted even higher.
The customer held his gaze for another second before letting out an exaggerated gasp.
“Ouch…”
He clutched his chest as though physically wounded.
“That one hurt.”
He sighed dramatically, shoulders slumping in theatrical defeat.
“Ice Americano.”
Finally.
An actual order.
San entered it into the register without another word.
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft tapping of his fingers against the screen.
For some reason, though…
Something about the man irritated him.
Maybe it was how casually he spoke to strangers.
Maybe it was the shameless flirting.
Or maybe it was the way he seemed completely unfazed by San’s obvious lack of interest in entertaining a conversation.
Whatever the reason, San found himself hoping the interaction would end as soon as the coffee was ready.
Little did he know…
The customer was thinking the exact opposite.
Interesting.
For someone with a face that belonged on a billboard, he certainly wasn’t acting the way everyone expected.
And somehow…
That only made him more intriguing.
“Anything else?”
San kept his eyes on the register, waiting.
The customer didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he clicked his tongue once, his eyes drifting over San again as if he were considering something.
San immediately braced himself.
Here we go again.
But instead of another comment about his appearance, the man simply hummed.
“Yeah, actually.”
He pointed toward the machine behind San.
“Add a strawberry milkshake too.”
San blinked.
A strawberry milkshake.
With an iced Americano.
He glanced briefly toward the order before looking back at the customer, unable to stop the slight grimace that threatened to appear.
The combination was questionable.
Very questionable.
But it wasn’t his place to judge.
“Alright.”
He entered the additional item into the register.
To San’s relief—or maybe surprise, because he wasn’t entirely sure which emotion it was—there were no further remarks.
No teasing.
No unnecessary compliments.
No questions about his age or whether he was single.
The man simply stepped aside and pulled out his phone, leaving San to continue working.
Finally.
A peaceful customer.
A few minutes later, the bell above the pickup window chimed.
San turned immediately, grabbing the finished drinks.
“Here.”
He placed them on the counter.
The customer reached for the coffee first.
Before drinking, he gave the cup a few careful swirls, mixing the contents evenly.
Then he took a sip.
A satisfied hum followed.
“Yup.”
He nodded approvingly.
“Great as always.”
San paused.
As always?
His eyes flickered toward the man.
A regular, then.
That explained why the owner smiled so brightly.
Before he could think much more about it, the strawberry milkshake was pushed back across the counter.
San looked down.
Then back up.
The customer was looking at him with an almost annoyingly casual expression.
“For you.”
He winked.
San stared.
For a second, his mind went completely blank.
Then reality caught up.
“No, I—”
He took a breath.
Already preparing the polite rejection.
The explanation.
The question of what exactly this man was trying to achieve.
But before he could say anything, the customer spoke again.
“Cheer up.”
Just two words.
No teasing tone.
No hidden meaning.
No expectation attached.
And then, as casually as he had walked in, he turned around and left.
The bell chimed above the door.
San remained frozen behind the counter, staring at the strawberry milkshake sitting in front of him.
What…
Was that?
For once, he couldn’t figure out the intention behind someone’s actions.
And strangely enough—
That bothered him less than it should have.
San took the stairs instead of the elevator when he returned home from his shift.
Over time, he had learned that the simple act of climbing several flights was a good way to let off some of the frustration that built up throughout the day.
The constant staring.
The assumptions.
The way people decided who he was before he had even opened his mouth.
Somehow, no one ever stopped to wonder if treating someone like a display instead of a person was wrong.
To everyone else, it was harmless.
A compliment.
A little attention.
Something he should be grateful for.
But they never considered what it felt like to constantly be reduced to a face, a body, an image they had created in their heads.
By the time he reached his floor, the exhaustion from the day settled heavily over his shoulders.
The moment his apartment door came into view, San released a long sigh of relief.
Home.
Finally.
He reached into his pocket, fingers searching for his keys.
Then—
Click.
The sound of a lock turning caught his attention.
The neighbor’s door slowly opened.
San froze.
For a split second, the memory of that morning came rushing back.
The muffled sounds through the wall.
The embarrassment.
The realization of exactly what had been happening on the other side.
His hand remained suspended near his door.
Now what?
Should he quickly unlock his apartment and disappear before he had to face the neighbor?
That would definitely be less awkward.
But also incredibly rude.
After all, avoiding someone without even knowing them was unfair.
San debated silently, caught between his desire to escape and his manners.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have enough time to decide.
A black garbage bag appeared first, blocking most of the doorway.
Then a pair of feet stepped out behind it.
San straightened slightly.
So this was his neighbor.
San glanced to the side just once.
And immediately regretted it.
His eyes widened.
Almost instinctively, he stopped breathing for a second.
It was him.
The customer from the café.
The man with the iced Americano.
The man who had casually called him a Greek god, ordered the strangest drink combination San had ever seen, and then handed him a strawberry milkshake with a simple cheer up before leaving.
The same man was now standing in front of him.
In his hallway.
At his neighbor’s door.
“…”
The other man seemed to recognize him at the exact same moment.
His lips parted slightly.
Then he slowly pursed them, pointing at San as realization crossed his face.
“Oh.”
A pause.
“You’re…”
San stared back.
“My neighbor?!”
The words escaped before he could stop them.
His own disbelief was obvious.
A strange silence settled between them.
San couldn’t tell what expression the man was making.
Was he amused?
Was he silently laughing at him?
Was he wondering how unlucky he had to be to end up living next to someone like him?
For some reason, not knowing was more frustrating than any reaction could have been.
Then, unexpectedly, the man spoke.
“So…”
He tilted his head slightly.
“Did you drink the milkshake?”
San blinked.
Out of everything he could have said…
That was what he chose?
“…Yes.”
The answer came out automatically.
The man’s expression softened with satisfaction.
“…Good.”
He nodded once, as though he had just received confirmation about something important.
And then—
He turned around.
Just like that.
No explanation.
No teasing comment.
No awkward attempt at conversation.
Nothing.
He simply walked away, disappearing further down the hallway with the garbage bag still in hand.
San remained standing in the hallway.
Completely still.
His eyes stayed fixed on the spot where his neighbor had just been.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then, slowly, his eyebrows pulled together.
“What is wrong with this man?”
The question echoed quietly in the empty hallway.
And for the first time that day…
San wasn’t annoyed because someone had noticed him.
He was annoyed because someone had left him with more questions than answers.
➿
When Wooyoung returned from his quick trip to throw out the garbage, he stopped in front of his door.
Something was hanging from the doorknob.
He blinked.
A protein bar.
For a second, he simply stared at it.
Then his eyes dropped to the small sticky note attached to the wrapper.
Two simple words were written on it.
Thank you.
A smile slowly spread across his face.
He didn’t even realize he was smiling until his cheeks started to ache slightly.
“Seriously…”
He shook his head, amused.
Of all the things he expected from his new neighbor, this wasn’t one of them.
Most people would have accepted the drink and moved on.
Some would have ignored it completely.
But San had actually gone out of his way to return the gesture.
Quietly.
Without making a big deal out of it.
Without expecting anything in return.
Wooyoung peeled open the wrapper with his teeth, holding the protein bar in one hand while unlocking his door with the other.
A small laugh escaped him.
Wasn’t that just the cutest thing he’d seen since kindergarten?
And the funniest part?
The guy probably had no idea.
To San, it was likely just a simple thank-you.
But to Wooyoung…
It was the first glimpse of the person hiding underneath that intimidating face everyone seemed so obsessed with.
“Hey!”
Jongho’s voice echoed from the kitchen.
Wooyoung looked up from where he was happily eating his protein bar.
“Did you seriously get a treat only for yourself?”
Wooyoung scoffed immediately.
“Shut up. I cooked for you—”
He stopped.
Mid-sentence.
A thought crossed his mind.
Then a slow grin appeared on his face.
His eyes shifted toward the wall separating his apartment from the one next door.
“Oh.”
Jongho narrowed his eyes.
“What?”
Wooyoung didn’t answer.
Instead, he turned around, walking straight toward the entrance.
“Where are you going?”
No response.
A few seconds later—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Actually…
More like a kick.
San had barely finished putting his things down when the sudden noise startled him.
He frowned.
Who was knocking like that?
When he opened the door, his expression immediately froze.
Of course.
The customer.
His neighbor.
Wooyoung stood there casually, one hand tucked into his pocket, looking far too comfortable for someone who had just announced his presence by nearly breaking down the door.
But before San could say anything, something else caught his attention.
The smell.
Savory dishes.
Something sweet.
A warm mixture of freshly cooked food drifted from the apartment behind Wooyoung and filled the hallway.
San blinked.
“You just finished work, right?”
Wooyoung spoke as if this was the most normal conversation in the world.
“I cooked for my friends.”
He casually motioned toward his apartment with his thumb.
“Want a plate?”
San stared.
A plate?
From someone who, only a few hours ago, had called him a Greek god and made him uncomfortable with his comments?
The hesitation must have been obvious because Wooyoung simply waited.
No pressure.
No teasing.
No insistence.
Just waiting.
San rubbed the back of his neck.
“Sorry.”
He shook his head.
“I don’t really like crowds.”
It was the truth.
Not the whole truth.
But enough.
For a second, San expected the usual reaction.
The convincing.
The questioning.
The “come on, don’t be like that.”
Instead—
Wooyoung just shrugged.
“’S fine.”
He waved a hand dismissively.
“People suck anyway.”
He hooked a finger over his shoulder, pointing toward his own apartment.
“Especially those.”
A snort escaped him as he referred to his friends.
San blinked.
Was that it?
No questions?
No attempts to change his mind?
Wooyoung simply smiled.
“See you tomorrow, I guess!”
He started walking backward toward his apartment, grin still on his face.
Then he disappeared inside.
Before he could fully close the door, a loud, high-pitched squeak echoed through the entire floor.
“HEY!”
San froze.
The voice came from inside Wooyoung’s apartment.
“That was for the neighbor!”
A second of silence followed.
Then—
“PUT IT DOWN.”
Another voice responded with complete calmness.
“Too late.”
San stared at the half-open door.
There was a brief pause.
Then came a long, exhausted sigh.
The kind of sigh someone made when they had already accepted they were surrounded by idiots.
“You menace.”
And finally—
The door slammed shut completely.
The hallway returned to silence.
San remained standing in front of his own apartment, still trying to process everything that had just happened.
The chaotic voices.
The complete lack of hesitation.
The way Wooyoung had gone from casually inviting him over to immediately arguing with his friends like they did this every day.
Slowly, without even realizing it, the corners of San’s lips lifted.
A small smile.
Not because of the invitation.
Not because someone had offered him food.
But because…
It wasn’t fake.
Those people weren’t putting on a performance because he was there.
They weren’t trying to impress him.
They weren’t treating him differently because of his appearance.
That was simply who they were.
Loud.
Ridiculous.
Completely chaotic.
Genuinely chaotic.
And somehow…
That made Wooyoung feel safer than San had initially expected.
Maybe because, for once, he wasn’t looking at someone who saw a version of him they had invented.
Maybe he was just looking at someone who was exactly what he appeared to be.
San slowly slid his door shut.
The lock clicked softly into place.
For a moment, he remained there with his back against the door, staring blankly ahead.
Because, somehow…
The person who had annoyed him the most that day was also the person who had managed to make the weight pressing against his chest feel lighter.
The inappropriate customer.
The man who had shamelessly looked him up and down.
The man who had called him ridiculous names, handed him a random milkshake, and somehow ended up being his neighbor.
Wooyoung.
San frowned slightly at the thought.
It didn’t make sense.
He should have been uncomfortable.
He was uncomfortable.
And yet…
The exhaustion that had followed him home felt a little less heavy.
Maybe because, for once, someone hadn’t looked at him like he was something to admire.
Wooyoung had laughed with him.
Talked to him.
Invited him over.
And when San said no, he simply accepted it.
No disappointment.
No offense.
No attempt to change his mind.
Just…
Acceptance.
San shook his head, pushing away the strange thought before it could settle too deeply.
“Ridiculous,” he muttered.
Yet despite his words, the faint smile on his lips refused to disappear.
Because maybe…
Just maybe…
His new neighbor wasn’t as unbearable as he first thought.