Chapter Text
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 ───── 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔
By the time Chan reached the fourth floor, the sky outside had already turned the soft grey-blue that came before evening, and his legs were beginning to complain about the number of stairs he had climbed that day.
He had spent most of the afternoon wandering around Daejeon with his camera hanging from his neck, stopping whenever something caught his attention and occasionally forgetting that he had somewhere else to be.
Photography had always done that to him.
Once he found something worth looking at, time became strangely unimportant.
He stopped halfway up the final flight anyway, not because he was tired, but because he wanted to look through the photographs he'd taken one more time.
The screen was full of little pieces of the afternoon– a blurry click of a woman working at a flower shop, pure stills of neighbourhood kids drawing on road sides with chalks and a few raw pictures of a stray cat sitting underneath a parked car, looking directly at the camera with an expression that made Chan wonder if it knew exactly what he was doing.
Considering the strange things, it probably does.
He smiled at that kids one and zoomed in to check the focus before deciding that it was good enough to keep.
He would probably adjust the colours later, perhaps warm them slightly, but he liked the photograph as it was. There was something about the afternoon light that made even the ordinary streets feel softer than they really were.
He slipped his phone back into his pocket and continued upstairs.
He was almost at his floor when something floated past his shoulder.
Pop! Pop!
Chan glanced up.
A transparent bubble drifted lazily down the stairwell, catching the weak yellow light from the ceiling and scattering it into little patches of colour across the walls– Another followed behind it, then another, until there were several floating through the narrow space.
He stopped walking.
The bubbles moved strangely. They weren't following the air coming through the old windows, and they weren't falling naturally either, One of them travelled upward for a moment before changing direction and floating sideways.
Chan watched one drift past his shoulder.
It bumped gently against the wall.
Pop.
He sighed.
“Again?”
From somewhere above him came a muffled shout.
“DON'T TOUCH IT!”
Another voice immediately yelled back.
“I'M NOT!”
Something crashed.
Chan stared at the ceiling.
There was a brief silence.
Then:
“...Did you break it?” it sounded like minghao hyung
“I DIDN'T BREAK ANYTHING!” unmistakably soonyoung Hyung's voice
“You absolutely did!” he knows this is seungkwan of course.
Chan covered his mouth, trying not to laugh.
Apartment No.111
Of course.
He continued climbing.
He'd been living beside them long enough that strange noises no longer surprised him.
The first few weeks had been different.
Back then, every little sound had made him wonder if the twelve men next door were secretly running some sort of illegal workshop.
Now?
He'd learned to mind his business.
Mostly.
He reached his floor and walked toward his own door.
As he passed his very normal neighbouring Apartment, the wooden hanger attached to its handle suddenly lifted several inches into the air.
Chan noticed it from the corner of his eye.
It rotated slowly, almost lazily, before settling back against the door as if nothing had happened.
Chan blinked, “...Right.”
He unlocked his own apartment without looking at it again.
There were certain things Chan had learned not to react to.
He had figured that out during his first few weeks in Daejeon, when he had still been new enough to wonder whether every strange thing he saw required an explanation.
Eventually, he had realised that the easiest way to live beside twelve unusually eccentric men was simply to accept that their apartment did things his did not.
His own apartment was quiet when he stepped inside, which was exactly what he needed after spending the afternoon outside.
It was small enough that he could see almost everything from the entrance: the narrow bed pushed against one wall, the desk beneath the window, the little kitchen that barely had enough space for him to turn around comfortably, and the shelves where he kept his books and camera equipment.
It wasn't much, but Chan had grown attached to it.
There was something comforting about having a space that belonged entirely to him.
He placed his camera carefully on the desk before taking off his shoes and changing into a loose shirt and comfortable trousers.
Dinner was already waiting for him in a convenience-store container, a portion of tteokbokki he'd bought downstairs because he hadn't had the energy to cook anything after coming home.
He ate at his desk with his laptop open in front of him, pulling up the photographs from his camera while the city outside slowly darkened.
His photography assignment was due soon, and he had promised himself that he would finish the editing before sleeping.
He sorted through the photographs one by one, deleting the ones that were too blurry and marking the ones he wanted to keep. He adjusted the brightness of one, lowered the contrast on another, then went back to the photograph of the boy with the red umbrella because he still couldn't decide whether the shadows were too dark.
He was so focused that he didn't notice how much time had passed until someone knocked loudly on his door.
Chan looked toward it.
The knock came again.
This time, followed by a voice.
“Chan ah!”
Chan smiled.
“door's open hyung!” he answered.
The door opened and Mingyu appeared, looking as though he'd been sent on an official mission.
“Why are you eating alone?”
Chan looked at the half-empty container beside his laptop.
“Because I'm in my apartment.”
“That wasn't what I asked.”
“I already ate.”
Mingyu walked into the room without waiting for an invitation and glanced at the laptop.
“You're working again?”
“My assignment is due.”
“You can finish it later.”
“I don't think my professor will accept that as an excuse.”
“He should.”
Chan laughed and turned back toward the screen. “I'll come over after I finish this.”
“You're not finishing it tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because we're eating.”
“I just ate.”
“You can eat again.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“just the desert then.”
Chan shook his head, still smiling.
Before he could answer, Seungkwan's voice came loudly from the hallway.
“Ya! Channie! Gyu made extras! Come already!”
“I heard you!”
“Then come!”
Chan looked at Mingyu.
Mingyu looked back at him with the smug expression of someone who knew he'd already won.
Chan sighed and saved his work.
“Fine.”
Mingyu immediately turned around.
“Good.”
Chan watched him disappear into the hallway before closing his laptop. He took his phone and followed, leaving his apartment door unlocked for the moment.
Apartment No. 111 was already loud.
It usually was.
There were twelve people living there, which Chan had initially thought was an unreasonable number for one apartment– After a few months, however, he'd realised that the apartment itself seemed to have accepted the arrangement better than any ordinary person would have.
It was large enough to hold everyone comfortably, with a kitchen that opened into the living room, a long hallway leading toward the bedrooms and windows that let the evening light spill across the wooden floor.
There were also things in that apartment that Chan had never quite figured out.
Tonight, several tiny golden lights were drifting near the ceiling.
They moved slowly above everyone's heads, glowing faintly as they passed one another.
Chan saw them immediately.
He didn't stare.
That was something he'd become very good at.
Instead, he took off his shoes and placed them beside the others while asking, “What are those?”
Jihoon, who was sitting near the kitchen counter, glanced up.
“What?”
Chan pointed vaguely toward the ceiling without actually looking at the lights.
“Did you change something?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
Chan nodded as if that explained everything.
He moved further inside.
One of the lights floated down toward him, close enough that he could see tiny sparks moving inside its glow. Chan instinctively shifted sideways, pretending he was simply making room for Jun as he passed.
The light continued on its way.
Nobody said anything.
Chan smiled faintly to himself.
There was no reason to make things awkward.
He'd learned that lesson early.
The first time he'd seen something genuinely strange in his next door apartment, he'd spent almost ten minutes wondering whether he should ask about it. In the end, he hadn't.
The next day, everyone had behaved normally, so Chan had decided that whatever explanation existed for it was probably something he didn't need to know.
Besides, he liked these people.
They were loud and nosy and impossible to refuse whenever they offered him food, but they had also been the first people in Daejeon to make him feel as though he wasn't entirely alone.
That mattered more.
Mingyu pulled a chair out for him.
“Sit.”
Chan sat.
A plate was immediately placed in front of him.
“You really don't need to feed me every time I come here,” he said.
“Yes, we do,” Seokmin replied from across the table.
“Why?”
“Because you forget to eat when you're working.”
“I don't.”
“You do.”
“I ate today.”
“Does that miracle happen daily?”
Chan laughed and reached for his chopsticks.
Around him, the apartment continued moving in its usual chaotic rhythm.
Jeonghan and Joshua hyung was sharing a plate. Jun and Soonyoung were talking. Wonwoo was sitting slightly away from the noise with his phone in one hand, occasionally looking up whenever someone became too loud. Minghao was quietly arranging something on the kitchen counter, and Vernon had settled into the corner of the sofa with the expression of someone who was physically present but mentally somewhere else.
Chan liked watching them.
Not in a strange way.
He simply liked noticing people.
It was probably inevitable after choosing photography.
He noticed small things.
The way Seokmin smiled before he laughed.
The way Wonwoo's eyes narrowed whenever he concentrated.
The way Mingyu automatically pushed dishes closer to everyone before taking his own.
The way Seungkwan's hands moved constantly when he was excited.
And right now, Seungkwan was very excited.
He was in the middle of telling a story, talking quickly enough that Chan was struggling to follow.
“And then he looked at me and said that!”
“You probably misunderstood him,” jeonghan said.
“I did not!”
“You always misunderstand people.”
“I know what I heard!”
His voice rose.
His hands moved faster.
Chan noticed something else too
Seungkwan's feet were no longer touching the floor.
He was floating slightly.
Barely enough that someone unfamiliar with him might have missed it.
Chan lowered his eyes to his food.
He calmly picked up another piece of kimchi and ate it.
Seungkwan continued talking, apparently unaware that his feet were several inches above the floor.
Chan kept eating, carefully concentrating on his plate.
Seungkwan's feet hovered just above the floor for a few seconds before settling down again.
Nobody commented on it.
Chan didn't either.
And he had absolutely no intention of ever asking.
It wasn't his business.
He chewed slowly and listened to the story as though nothing unusual was happening.
Chan of course didn't look.
Once again nobody reacted.
Or, rather, the others had noticed, but none of them seemed concerned.
Chan had begun to understand that things which would have seemed impossible anywhere else were simply part of life in this apartment
He wasn't sure whether that made his neighbours strange or himself strangely accepting.
Perhaps both.
Dinner continued though.
Someone complained about the food being too spicy.
Someone else stole a dumpling.
Seungcheol told them to stop fighting.
Nobody listened.
Chan laughed until his stomach hurt as usual.
It was only when he returned to his own apartment later that night that he realised how quickly he had become accustomed to this.
He closed the door behind himself and stood quietly in the small entrance.
The apartment was silent again.
He looked toward the wall separating him from 111 plated Apartment.
Even through the plaster, he could hear muffled laughter.
Chan smiled.
By now, Chan knew better than to ask questions.
Whatever happened inside apartment 111 was their business.
He had his own life, his own assignments, and a perfectly ordinary apartment next door.
At least, that was what he told himself.
Because once upon a time, he hadn't known any of them.
Once upon a time, Apartment 111 had just been the strange apartment beside his.
And Chan had been a stranger who arrived in Daejeon with one suitcase, a camera, and absolutely no idea what he'd just moved next to..
And twelve neighbours who, as far as he was concerned, were simply twelve very strange, very kind people who had somehow become part of his life.
He was perfectly happy to leave it at that.
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 ───── 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔