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Seo Changbin felt an immense delight with his life that was free of any real surprise. He had obtained his master’s degree in musicology at the age of twenty-three, like most of his classmate. He just doubted that the indistinct mass of former students has proudly hung their diplomas on their kitchen walls. He had introduced himself with a shy smile and his resume at a record shop in the city centre that published a few articles on a blog. Changbin liked the tone of their editor and hoped to find a place in this boutique. He found one. He had been working with Bang Chan since his disastrous interview – Chan thought he had a lot of potential, but Changbin hat doubts. He organised vinyl records on crowded shelves, advised customers with varying degrees of knowledge, and wrote two articles a week.
It was a dream come true.
Three years later, Chan was congratulating him from behind his computer screen. The only notable change in his daily life since they met was that Changbin would give him the middle finger without hesitation when his comments were more sarcastic than friendly. Chan knew exactly how to get on his nerves. He enjoyed a daily routine that never bored him.
They always began with endless journeys on Seoul’s crowded underground trains – he could have found a flat closer to his work, but he enjoyed the tranquillity of his neighbourhood too much to go back to the hassle – and ended with his exhausted body sinking into the soft cushions of his bed. Changbin sometimes received surprise visits from his friends, who would drag him out of his cocoon of blankets and take him to a public place where conversations always went on longer than necessary. Hyunjin often complained about his elderly lifestyle. The regularity of his days sounded like a nightmare to her delicate ears, eager for details as juicy as they were unexpected.
“You know your daily life is more predictable than my mother’s smiles,” complained his best friend, whose lips closed around his straw to take two sips of his latte. “And I’m talking about the smiles that always precede her questioning about the disastrous state of my love life.”
“Questions you never answer,” added Changbin. His lips stretched into a smirk. “Because you reserve the stories of your romantic misadventures for Jisung, Minho and me.”
“I’m not going to talk about sex with my mother,” he protested. “Imagine how embarrassing that would be.”
Changbin hid his smirk by bringing his steaming cup to his lips. He could perfectly imagine the embarrassment. He felt the unpleasant heat in his ears every time Hyunjin dwelled on his sexual escapades for more than a few minutes. His friend enjoyed his discomfort. Changbin suspected him of saving the juiciest details for their long discussions simply because he enjoyed his stammering and red ears.
“Know that I like the predictable side of my life, Hwang Hyunjin.”
Despair drew a sigh from his friend. His chest collapsed against the table as if the lack of surprises in his life was overwhelming him. Changbin ran a hand through his brown hair to reassure him. Everything would be fine in his boring life. He could focus folly on his developing relationship with his man – Jeongin, if he remembered his name correctly – whom he had met at a party that Changbin hadn’t had the courage to attend. Minho was still angry with him for the beer he had to drink alone because Hyunjin had disappeared to flirt and Jisung was absent due to a sore throat. The change of subject did not displease Hyunjin, who launched into an overly detailed description of his last date. His story made him groan a few times. Hyunjin savoured each of them like fine wine.
When they parted ways two hours later. Changbin felt drained of all energy and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed. He could hear the call of his mattress from several streets away. The temptation to collapse between two soft pillows quickened his pace. He could already picture himself in comfortable pyjamas, watching a silly show on his phone or dozing in his room.
A frown creased between his brows when he spotted a moving truck with an empty trailer in front of the building. Change always brought with it a host of unexpected events that he could have done without. His lips twisted into a grimace as he rushed into the entrance hall. He hurried up the staircase and climbed to the third floor. He managed to reach his flat without encountering a single soul. He did not feel capable of exchanging pleasantries with the person who had just moved in or with any other chatty tenant. Hyunjin had drained him of his energy.
His relief evaporated as soon as he took off his shoes.
A loud crash echoed above his head. He jumped so violently that he dropped his keys and stubbed his heel on the corner of his shoe cabinet. A curse escaped his lips as he looked up at the ceiling, where the chandelier swung lazily. The walls vibrated strangely. A deep voice was hurling insults at the whole world on the fourth floor, without getting any response. The new tenant had replaced the old lady whose children had taken her to a nursing home a few weeks earlier because she could no longer manage on her own. Changbin liked her. She had always brought him leftovers when her grandchildren left.
A curse escaped his lips, creating a surprising echo with that of his new neighbour. Changbin knew that the night would be short and unpleasant even before he found the comfort of his bed.
***
The short, unpleasant nights came one after another. They were completely out of control.
Changbin collapsed onto his bed after a week of fitful sleep. He had tried to find the welcoming arms of the sandman so that he would not have to leave them before the ringing of his alarm clock. Fatigue bent his back and shoulders. His dark eyes stared at the ceiling of his room as if they could pierce through the thick layer of plasterboard to discover the noisy activities of his new neighbour. He was notable for his impressive noise level. He stamped his heels as he walked – each of his steps causing the walls of Changbin’s flat to shake alarmingly. His deep voice pierced through them as if they weren’t even there. The record shop owner could hear every one of his irritated conversations with someone who never answered him.
“I’m going to murder him,” he complained one evening as he tossed and turned in bed. An empathetic laugh came from the other end of the line. “Can you hear it, Jisung?”
“Not really,” his friend sighed, his voice hoarse with sleep. “But I’m not denying the noise. It’s just the phone doesn’t help me hear.”
His muffled grunt into his pillow elicited another chuckle from his best friend, whose words became slurred as fatigue overtook him. Changbin refused to keep him awake. They agreed to meet at the café before hanging up. His smartphone fell between two cushions. He tossed and turned in bed as if his constant movements somehow muffled the scraping of the chair against the floor or his neighbour’s irritated remarks. Changbin groaned. He pulled the pillow over his head, hoping the feathers would minimise the noise coming from the flat. It was a futile effort. He could still hear it.
Changbin would never survive several months with uninterrupted noise coming from the floor above. He had naively hoped that his new neighbour would calm down after settling into an unfamiliar environment. He barely remembered his own arrival in his flat. He only remembered that he had stopped moving his furniture around the rooms as soon as he had got used to his neighbourhood. The mysterious individual on the fourth floor did not share his routine tranquillity.
***
“You’ll scare the customers if you keep that look on your face.”
Sitting cross-legged on his comfortable chair behind the cash register, Chan gave him worried glances. His dark eyes lingered on Changbin’s heavy movements and clouded over whenever he noticed the slow growth of dark circles under his eyes. He was concerned for him and for his business. The record shop owner was aware of his condition: a grimace distorted his features when he had the misfortune of catching sight of his reflection in a mirror, and he glared at the vinyl copy of The Slow Rush as if it were responsible for all his woes. The record wasn’t. He knew who was responsible for his bad mood. His name was Lee Felix, and he lived on the fourth floor of his building.
Their paths had never crossed. They didn’t frequent the entrance hall at the same times. They didn’t pace the dark, smelly room where all the rubbish was piled up at the same pace. A mixture of curiosity and despair had prompted Changbin to focus his eyes on that name on the letterbox. He needed to know the identity of the person who was keeping him out of the realm of dreams.
A sigh escaped Chan’s lips. “Is it your neighbour again?” he asked, with a pencil between his teeth.
“It’s always because of my neighbour,” Changbin complained. He put the record back on the pile if second-hand items to be sorted before the shop opened. “It might be a prank to know how long it takes before I go insane.”
A sympathetic smile appeared on Chan’s lips as he rose from his office chair. He walked around the till with an almost inhuman morning grace and approached Changbin. He was worried about him. Changbin knew it. They could both see the effects of fatigue on his body and his memory. He was forgetting the names of artists he could have talked about for hours before Felix moved into the flat above his. His advice was less relevant. His articles were more hollow than they had ever been. Changbin hated it all. He hated the constant noise. He hated this neighbour he didn’t even know.
Chan’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him into a comforting embrace. Tears welled up in Changbin’s eyes and left wet marks on his boss’s sweatshirt. Horrible sobs escaped his throat. He felt desperate.
“Everything will be alright,” promised Chan.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that hugging your employees is inappropriate?” he croaked when his tears dried up.
“If you can crack a joke, it means you can work.”
His neighbour stood out for his endless ability to never remain silent. Changbin doubted that the noise coming from the fourth-floor flat would ever decrease. Felix had settled in and showed no signs of calming down. He kept his thoughts to himself, even when Chan’s arms left his shoulders and his worried eyes scanned his features. Changbin simply wiped his tears away with the back of his sleeve and stared at the two sweat stains staining his superior’s right collarbone.
The older man suggested that he sit behind the cash register to manage inventory and payments. Changbin accepted without much enthusiasm. Under normal circumstances, when he wasn’t overcome by fatigue, he would have vehemently opposed the suggestion. He didn’t have the energy to fight. The routine – and deeply boring – nature of the task Chan had given him kept him awake all day. He immersed himself in his chore, offering polite smiles to customers who handed him colourful discs.
When he returned to his flat after eight hours of work and an hour of commuting during rush hour, his neighbour was playing music so loudly that it made the walls of his flat shake. A plaintive groan escaped Changbin’s lips as he hurried to a drawer in his kitchen – the one where he kept the Post-it notes he used to annotate the cookbooks his loved ones had given him. He wrote an angry message to his neighbour. He asked him to turn down the volume so as not to disturb the other residents of the building.
His socks slipped on the tiled floor of the hallway as he left his flat. He didn’t care. Nothing mattered to him more than delivering his message. The mirror in the lift reflected an image of him that he hadn’t seen since his last exams. He didn’t even look like himself anymore. His skin looked pale. Thick purple circles outlined his eyes. Nervous spasms shook his cheeks. He slammed the adhesive against the reflective surface with an angry movement before turning on his heel.
***
The noise remained, echoing in Changbin’s skull like an incessant ringing in his ears. Silence had abandoned his daily life. He missed it. He missed it so much. He dreamed of tranquillity, of a peaceful Saturday, far from the hustle and bustle of the world. His neighbour seemed calm for the first time since moving in – an event that Changbin hesitated to mark with a cross on the calendar taped to his refrigerator door. The record shop owner knew that he slept at odd hours; he had eventually learned his rhythm through his insomnia.
Lying spread-eagled on his bed, he savoured this calm, which he thought would be short-lived. He stared at the irregularities in his ceiling and let his mind drift in a state of semi-wakefulness. Then the alarm rang. The shrill sound made him grimace for the first time. He found the courage to leave the warmth of his blankets when the second siren sounded within the walls of the flat. His feet hit the cold linoleum; a sudden shiver ran up his body and ended at the nape of his neck. He grabbed a sweatshirt lying on the floor and trotted to the door, his eyes half-closed. He was putting on his clothes when he opened the door.
“Wow.” Hyunjin’s impressed whistle froze him in his tracks. His movement remained suspended, a grimace twisting his lips. His best friend wore an unfriendly smile – one he had mastered to perfection – and it never boded well. “I knew you’d been working out for a while, but I wasn’t expecting this.”
“I want to see!” Behind his shoulder, Jisung’s curious head appeared, his eyes narrowed with interest. Standing on tiptoe, Changbin saw the top of his head and his eyes unabashedly scanning his body. “Wow.”
“What do you want?”
No response.
Two grins too innocent to be honest stretched across their lips. They shamelessly invited themselves inside, leaving their shoes in the hallway before slipping into the living room. Their eyes lingered on the ceiling, as if they expected to hear the roar of a jet engine. Changbin followed them, arms crossed over his chest, in a defensive posture that they interpreted as his desire to show off his arm muscles.
Jisung hummed the lyrics to a popular song that had been stuck in his head for several weeks. Changbin knew he would end up complaining about the persistent rhythm in his mind if Hyunjin didn’t strangle him first. A hoarse snore escaped him as his juniors collapsed onto his sofa.
“It’s not that I don’t like you guys, but…” He paused and waited for their eyes to meet his as he leaned against the worktop. “Can I ask why you’re here?”
“We’re picking you up to go for a coffee with Minho hyung,” explained the youngest, ignoring the expressions on his friends’ faces at the use of the honorific. Han Jisung had only one hyung, and he indulged his every wish. “I thought he’d make more noise.”
“We’re leaving in ten minutes,” added Hyunjin before he had time to point out that his neighbour sometimes slept. “I hope you plan on wearing something else.”
Changbin looked down at his outfit. A sweatshirt and sports shorts. Nothing disastrous. Yet Hyunjin’s accusing finger pointed at his clothes as if they hadn’t just been pulled out of his bed. He muttered a few inaudible insults before turning on his heel, almost slamming his bedroom door. He grabbed some clothes suitable for hanging out with his friends, then dragged his feet to the bathroom. The cool water on his face helped him regain his composure. His reflection showed a face that looked more and more tired, but he chose to ignore it. The dark circles under his eyes didn’t exist if he didn’t look at them for more than two seconds.
When he returned to the main room, Hyunjin and Jisung were arguing about the former’s latest date. Hyunjin gestured enthusiastically, clearly proud of his exploits and flexibility, while Jisung grimaced in disgust. Changbin knocked on his bedroom door to get their attention.
“Save me!” Jisung begged, his forearms sinking into the cushions.
“Save the details for later,” Changbin said without hiding his amusement. “I’m sure Minho will love to hear each of them.”
“Just so you know, I have enough survival instinct not to follow your suggestions.”
The interaction brought a discreet chuckle from Changbin. The youngest jumped to his feet as soon as Hyunjin’s attention shifted to someone else. He rushed to his shoes in the hallway and eagerly slipped them on. Hyunjin joined them, hands clasped behind his head and a satisfied expression on his face.
Outside, the street swallowed them up.
The icy air bit into Changbin’s cheeks. He shoved his fists deep into his fluffy pockets and shot an annoyed glance at his friends walking ahead of him. Their footsteps echoed on the frozen pavement. He smiled mockingly when Jisung almost tripped and caught himself at the last second by grabbing Hyunjin’s arm. His eyes begged for mercy from the taller man when he opened his mouth to reproach him for his clumsiness. Five minutes later, they reached the café. Changbin had no idea how they made it inside without breaking a bone.
The barista greeted them with a neutral smile, somewhere between politeness and weariness. His eyes followed them as they made their way to their usual table. Changbin slumped down with a sigh of relief, his body heavy with fatigue. His chest collapsed against the table as his friends sat down opposite him.
“I don’t know if you’re ahead or behind schedule with your zombie costume for Halloween,” said the taller one ironically. Changbin groaned as he tried to sit up. His muscles protested. He met Hyunjin’s mocking gaze as he ran a hand through his hair as if to get rid of an imaginary knot.
“You know you’re hilarious, Hwang?”
“That’s nice of you to notice,” replied the other with a satisfied smile. “It took you more than eight years to realise that.”
“Is he really that unbearable? Your neighbour, not Hyunjin. We know he’s unbearable.”
Jisung’s voice was filled with concern. He traced abstract shapes on the table; his eyes fixed on the record store owner. Changbin followed the slow movement of his finger as if hypnotised. Fatigue weighed on him like a veil. His eyelids grew heavier with each passing second. His confused thoughts floated in an opaque fog that an energy drink could have dispelled if he had had time to take two sips.
“Do you remember the parties Hyunjin used to come back from dead drunk?” he asked, a sardonic grin playing on his lips. The other man’s eyes instantly rolled back in his head. He quickly grew tired of his alcoholic exploits, which often ended with him forgetting his own name.
“As if I could forget them,” complained Jisung. “Sometimes I hear detailed accounts of his sexual escapades in my worst nightmares.”
“I remember you enjoying it a lot at the time,” replied Hyunjin. His index finger pointed accusingly between their bodies. “I think I have photos on my phone to prove it.”
The familiar and reassuring sound of bickering filled the room. Changbin listened distractedly. His mind drifted away from reality. Their voices mingled with the hum of the café, melting into a comforting background noise. After several minutes, Changbin thought he understood that they were debating the best way to get rid of his noisy neighbour – he could cut them short with a simple ‘I love you, me neither’. Some of the suggestions made him smile, but most of them were met with a desperate sigh. He wasn’t going to bang on the ceiling with his broom. And he wasn’t going to simulate a steamy love scene with Hyunjin – the idea made him grimace, while his younger brother believed that his finest performance lay in this role that was forever out of reach. He visualised the elderly couple on the floor below for a moment and felt shame overwhelm him at the mere thought of their angry faces.
The doorbell rang. The crystal-clear sound diverted his attention from his friends’ far-fetched suggestions. Relief washed over him when he saw Minho’s familiar silhouette in the doorway. Minho immediately spotted their table and raised an eyebrow at the sight of – no – cups. Hyunjin, leaning on his hand, gave him a falsely angelic smile. Minho responded with an eloquent grimace before discreetly raising his middle finger in his direction and turning his heels towards the counter.
Changbin watched the scene distractedly, staring at the older man’s white hair, which moved in time with his movements and words. Even without seeing his face, he could guess at his polite smile and calm tone. He knew by heart the natural ease Lee Minho reserved for strangers.
A few minutes later, the older man returned. He balanced the steaming cups on a tray with precision acquired from his many student jobs in bars. He placed the coffee in front of Changbin and slumped down to his right, his gaze immediately fixed on him to scrutinise every detail of his face.
“You look like a corpse on the verge of decomposition,” he remarked as he handed the hot drinks to the younger ones. He eyebrows furrowed, creating a worried crease on his forehead. “Does that mean you’ve avoided the easy solution again?”
“What solution?” he grumbled. His fingers closed around the cup, savouring the warmth spreading through his palms. “Because I already put a note on the lift and it was the easiest solution I could think of.”
“Mimicking intense sex with a very handsome and funny man,” joked Hyunjin.
“Knock on his door?” suggested Minho, who always preferred to ignore his friend’s remarks.
An offended gasp shook the table. The younger ones exchanged glances so horrified that it was almost comical. Their eyes widened as much as they could. Their mouths turned into two round, gaping holes. A trickle of coffee slid down Jisung’s chin. Minho burst out laughing mockingly and leaned over to wipe the spill with a relaxed gesture. He sat up, amused by the younger boy’s embarrassment, before sinking back into the seat of the bench, the hint of pride still burning in his eyes.
“I won’t do that.” Minho rolled his eyes. Changbin thought he heard a sarcastic comment about his lack of courage, which the cup against his lips swallowed up. “I don’t want to be the annoying neighbour.”
“Which means you’re the neighbour that’s dying from lack of sleep.”
“Minho hyung is right,” Jisung continued. “If this continues, you’re going to lash out at a customer.”
“And Chan won’t be happy,” completed Hyunjin.
“Look at the two lovebirds, completing each other sentence,” Minho teased, pointing at the two youngest.
Their shared laughter broke the tension in the room. This familiar complicity brought a discreet smile to Changbin’s face. He took a long sip, savouring the warmth that flowed through his body with exquisite slowness, gradually dispelling the heaviness of fatigue. The fog in his mind evaporated. He caught Minho’s insistent glances. His worried expression was evident in his grimaces and sarcastic comments. The record shop owner attempted a smile to reassure him, without believing for a moment that it would have any effect on the older man.
“I’m fine,” he promised in a whisper.
“If you die of exhaustion, your neighbours will hear about me.”
***
When Changbin left his friends at the corner of his street, fatigue weighed heavily on his eyelids and limbs. His steps dragged on the icy sidewalk and he swayed several times. Each breath burned his throat. Minho glanced at him with concern to make sure he would be able to make it the ten metres separating him from his building. Changbin responded with a vague gesture before the group’s attention was diverted by the younger members.
Jisung and Hyunjin were laughing loudly as they competed in a sliding contest on the ice that couldn’t possibly end well. The screech of their soles on the snow made the record store owner cringe. His eyebrows furrowed when the younger boy nearly fell flat on his face. The older boy’s hand shot out to grab Jisung’s wrist. His fingers tightened firmly around his skin. His burning, stern gaze rested on his younger brother, whose ears turned crimson.
Changbin sighed wearily. He promised his friends several times that everything was fine – that they could go home without him – before setting off up the snowy slope that led to his building. The powder snow crunched under his shoes and the icy wind whipped his face. The abstract shapes of his own weariness were visible in the midst of his breath. Each exhalation seemed to materialise the fatigue accumulated in his muscles. His legs felt like lead; he struggled to lift his feet off the blanket of powder snow covering the tarmac. His whole body felt as if it were fighting against a visceral exhaustion.
The sudden heat hit him like a blow when he reached the lobby. The difference in temperature sent a sudden, almost painful shiver through him. He mechanically tightened his scarf around his neck, as if this gesture could contain the fatigue that threatened to overwhelm him or the contours of an illness that was taking shape. His eyes fell on the metal handle of the door leading to the stairwell. He stood still for a moment. The idea of climbing three flights of stairs seemed insurmountable. His thighs were already trembling at the mere thought of the effort. Yet he hated lifts. The confined spaces and the feeling of suffocation made him anxious. But his energy was ebbing away. He knew he was capable of collapsing after three steps.
Changbin stood rooted to the spot in front of the lift for a few seconds before giving in. His trembling fingers pressed the call button. The familiar hum of the mechanism echoed in the silence of the lobby. His eyes absently followed the numbers on the illuminated panel, watching the floor numbers decrease until they stopped at the ground floor. A sigh escaped him. The door opened with a mechanical hiss. He slipped inside. A mixture of metallic and detergent smells rose to his nose. He pressed the button for the third floor. The slow movement of his finger betrayed his weariness. He was about to lean back against the mirror, ready to close his eyes for a few seconds, when a figure entered the cabin.
His heart skipped a beat.
Changbin’s mouth went dry. His eyes locked onto the stranger’s features. Blond hair, almost golden in the artificial light of the lift, framed a face dotted with freckles. Two large eyes shone with a calm glow. Fine tears – remnants of the bitter cold – glistened at the base of his lashes. His full lips stretched into a polite smile as soon as he noticed Changbin’s presence in the cabin. Changbin felt his throat tighten. A diffuse warmth rose from the nape of his neck to his ears. His whole body seemed to come alive. The stranger approached the control panel, his fingers brushing the buttons before pressing the number four.
“Hello.”
His deep voice sent a shiver through Changbin, a confused mixture of intimidation and fear. Standing before him was a sublime man whose voice belonged to his unbearable neighbour. He could have recognised him among a thousand. That husky diction kept him out of the realm of dreams. Changbin felt his lips stretch into a tense smile as he contented himself with a simple nod in response. He couldn’t utter a single word. He was afraid his voice would betray him. He was afraid he would croak out a string of incoherent syllables. His heart was pounding in his chest, trying to escape from his rib cage. He wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers and hoped his neighbour wouldn’t notice his distress.
The latter did not observe him. The red tips of his ears peeked out from his blond locks as his dark eyes scanned the control panel, as if trying to unravel its secrets. From his corner of the cabin, arms crossed against his chest, Changbin dissected every detail of his silhouette. He was always unlucky. He always fell for this type of person, the kind with almost supernatural beauty and expressive features. If he hadn’t been kept awake by his deep voice, he might have convinced himself to fight his anxiety and attempt a clumsy approach.
The lift began to move as soon as the door closed. The hum of the motor vibrated against the walls. Changbin felt his ears pop under the pressure – another reason to add to the long list of why he refused to take the lift. He dared to glance sideways and caught sight of the stranger’s reflection in the mirror. Then there was a sharp click. The engine cut out. The light flickered before freezing in a yellowish halo. The floor vibrated one last time before coming to a standstill. Silence fell like a leaden blanket. The lift swayed slightly, as if preparing to set off again after a short pause between floors.
It took Changbin several seconds to understand the situation. He was stuck between the first and second floors of his building, with a gorgeous person who kept him awake every night – in the unpleasant sense of the term. He thought it was a bad joke his friends were playing on him. Jisung was always coming up with crazy ideas like this, and Minho always went out of his way to make them happen. Changbin almost expected to see confetti explode and hear screams of laughter announcing the surprise.
None of that happened.
Changbin focused on the other person who shared his misfortune. His breathing became ragged and echoed in the cabin. His legs fidgeted in panic, causing the metal cabin to move erratically. His fingers frantically tapped all the buttons on the control panel as if they found the secret combination that would fix all technical failures.
“No, no, no…” he whispered, his hoarse voice echoing in the metallic prison. Changbin felt it through his muscles as he watched him wipe away a single tear rolling down his cheekbone. “Anything but that.”
From his corner of the lift, Changbin watched the fear grow in his neighbour’s frail body. The situation seemed to paralyse him, as if the realisation of their predicament could crush him. Nothing happened. His trembling fingers continued to tap away, searching for a combination that did not exist to get them out of the metal cabin. Changbin felt a wave of unexpected compassion for this noisy stranger whose fear seemed so brutal. He detached himself from the wall and approached him gently. His fingers wrapped delicately around the thin wrist of this man who was slightly taller than him. He tried to ignore the goose bumps spreading under his palm. Felix’s large eyes widened and locked onto his. Changbin could see all his fears in his tear-filled eyes. He tried to calm him with a reassuring smile.
An unpleasant crackling sound ran through the cabin and elicited an identical grimace from them. “How can I help you?” asked a bored voice at the other end of the line.
“Um…” Changbin hesitated, his thumb continuing to trace lines on his neighbour’s wrist. “Our elevator is stuck.”
A grunt answered him. Changbin made a face that boded ill – he thanked Felix, whose eyes were too focused on the speaker to register the pessimism in his expression. The operator’s questions continued. Changbin answered them with uncharacteristic patience. He found his neighbour strangely quiet for the situation. His unusual calmness contrasted sharply with the power of his voice.
“The snow is causing us some difficulties,” announced the operator’s robotic voice in a monotonous, unpleasant tone. “Our technician will not be able to assist you for another two hours.”
Before Changbin could even take offence at the unusually long wait or beg for faster service, the crackling noise stopped. His wide eyes remained fixed on the panel: they had just hung up on him. Frustration made his cheeks puff out. His fingers left Felix’s wrist to rub the hairline at the nape of his neck mechanically. His neighbour immediately collapsed, a plaintive whimper escaping his lips. Changbin watched him, uncertain. The stranger had pulled his legs up to his chest and was nervously playing with his shoelaces. His fingers trembled against the straps. His freckles stood out on his pale face. He remained sublime even in extreme panic, and this observation annoyed the record shop owner.
An unpleasant heat rose to Changbin’s cheeks. Pretty things had always been his weakness. He knew it. He had known it since his earliest childhood, when the prettiest girl in primary school had smiled at him, revealing a few missing teeth. He always fell for cute things. He jumped headfirst into their adorable traps. He regretted how easily his heart melted in the face of beautiful things when it was dissolved by pain. A sigh escaped his lips as he slid down against the wall, the cold metal biting into his palms. His knee brushed against Felix’s when he bent his legs.
“I guess we’re going to have to stay together for a while.” A grunt answered his remark, more to acknowledge the situation than to address him. “I'm Changbin.”
“Felix.” His deep voice sent a shiver through the record store employee. He didn’t know if admitting that he knew his identity would make him look like a psychopath in his neighbour’s eyes. He had read his name on his letterbox out of curiosity. That didn’t exactly make him seem sane. “I’ve been living on the fourth floor for a few months.”
“I know,” Changbin couldn’t help whispering. He felt his neighbour’s eyes burning into the top of his head as if trying to understand the meaning of his confession. “I live in the flat below and you can’t exactly be called discreet.”
Felix’s ears turned several shades of red. Changbin felt the heat emanating from his skin and couldn’t help but chuckle softly. He listened to his neighbour mumble an apology that he could barely understand. He was slurring his words. The record shop owner couldn’t understand everything he was saying. His brain wasn’t cooperating anymore. Between the persistent fatigue and the conversation with the operator, his grey matter needed maintenance. He thought he caught a few snippets of the word in the lift.
“I’m so sorry,” Felix continued, his voice barely audible. “I don’t realise how loud I am when I have headphones on. And I’m far from being a quiet gamer because I get angry quickly. I forget that my voice tends to be loud and that everyone can hear me. My mother always told me that it would cause me problems one day. Then…” His stream of words never stopped. Changbin was stunned. With his mouth half open, he looked for the perfect moment to interrupt his tirade.
“Felix,” he interrupted after his embarrassed admission about his inability to read handwritten Korean. “It’s not a big deal. Now you know you’re making a bit too much noise. I didn’t want to come and knock on your door to warn you. I was afraid of coming across as the annoying neighbour.”
Felix held out his little finger, an almost childish smile spreading across his lips. “I’ll be careful from now on.”
Changbin stared at his finger for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. He was adorable, deadly adorable for his heart. The record shop employee wasn’t worried about the frantic beating of his heart telling him to protect himself; to remember the many times he had been destroyed by charming smiles and sparkling eyes. He wasn’t thinking about anything when his finger intertwined with the other man’s.
Felix’s promise lifted a weight off his shoulders. He didn’t know if he would keep his word – he might lie to try to save face in front of a neighbour whose obvious lack of sleep was glaringly obvious – but Changbin clung to it like a lifeline. They talked to kill time, exchanging banalities and confidences, each revealing snippet of their lives to fill the wait. Felix worked in the video game industry. He kept saying that this explained his unusual hours. His whole life was organised with a slight shift that made him forget he was living in society. When Felix lamented his accent and his inability to pronounce certain words, the record shop owner let slip that he found his way of speaking endearing.
Embarrassment coloured the tips of his ears. He was about to apologise when the lift shook as it resumed its slow ascent. They jumped out of the lift as soon as the doors opened. A laugh of relief escaped Changbin’s lips as a technician apologised for the delay. Felix disappeared behind the stairwell door. The record store owner regained control of his legs when the door closed behind him. Back in his apartment, where a surprising calm reigned, he pulled out his phone and sent a message:
@jutdwae: i’m screwed
@_doolsetnet: in what way?
@jutdwae: my neighbour
@jutdwae: he’s adorable
@hynjinnnn: try to pick him up
@t.leeknowsaurus: as if he could
@jutdwae: I hate you all
***
Changbin slept for twelve hours straight the night after the lift broke down. He returned to a normal sleep pattern after several days of acclimatisation, which he spent in a fog. Noise still emanated from Felix’s flat. Felix tried to keep it down, as if aware of the existence of a world outside his cocoon, where a powerful computer hummed away. He no longer worked beyond reasonable hours and no longer caused the walls of Changbin’s flat to shake. His loved ones noticed an improvement in his mood after a full week of proper sleep: his parents stopped analysing his tone of voice for signs of physical fatigue when he spoke to them on the phone, and the worried crease between Chan’s eyebrows disappeared when he got back into the swing of things at the shop.
His friends teased him about his lack of reaction – a coma, according to them – on the first night without noise pollution. They had shown up at his door. Changbin was sleeping so soundly that he hadn’t heard their loud knocking. Minho would continue to remind him of this situation until the end of time, and Hyunjin took revenge by drowning him in detail about his sex life. However, it wasn’t their attitude that made the record store owner nervous. Jisung was so strangely calm that he didn’t dare ask him any questions without feeling embarrassed by his mischievous smiles.
The confirmation of his suspicions came one Saturday afternoon. Jisung showed up at the door of his flat. No message had been left to announce his arrival – his friends never bothered with that. A falsely innocent expression suggested that he was up to something. Jisung sat down on the sofa, legs crossed, watching Changbin’s every move in the kitchen with almost scientific interest. The record shop owner simply made him a hot drink, the one that preceded all the interrogations that made him feel deeply uncomfortable.
“So?” asked his best friend as soon as Changbin handed him the hot chocolate.
“So what?” replied Changbin, sitting down in the tiny space Jisung had left him on the cushions.
“Your neighbour?” His smile widened. He was delighted to see the blush on his cheeks. “What’s he like?”
Han Jisung did not possess Minho’s malice or Hyunjin’s art of suggestive insinuations. He stood out for his lack of tact when seeking information. This frankness made him dangerous and always left him speechless. Changbin mumbled a string of incoherent words about freckles, blond locks falling in front of two large, bright eyes, and shy smiles that made him melt. He launched into endless explanations. Jisung was amused by his embarrassment.
Three short, sharp knocks on the door put an end to his younger brother’s indiscretions. Changbin jumped to his feet, grateful for the welcome escape. His relief evaporated when Felix’s silhouette appeared in the doorway. His beaming smile, rosy cheeks, and arms laden with a sealed box made the record shop owner’s stomach churn.
“Um… hello?” Changbin hesitated, his eyes darting between his neighbour’s body and his best friend, who was watching the whole scene unfold from the sofa.
“Hello. May I come in?” The deep voice sent a familiar shiver down his spine.
The record store worker nodded eagerly, almost clumsily. He could almost feel his brain colliding with his skull. Felix slipped off his shoes with ease and rushed into the flat. His eyes took in every detail. They compared their two worlds, looking for differences in the arrangement of their furniture. His eyes fell on Jisung, whose curious gaze peered out from the sofa. They oscillated between the closed box, Felix’s body, and Changbin’s, who remained motionless in the doorway. His half-open mouth amused him greatly.
“I didn’t know you were busy,” said his neighbour, his eyes diving into those of the record store owner. “I’ll come back later…”
“You must be Felix!” interrupted Jisung, whose enthusiasm startled the Australian. “Changbin has told us a lot about you.”
“Oh?” he replied with a mischievous smile. “I suppose he said a lot of bad things about me.”
“Not exclusively. I believe I heard a few compliments.”
Shame overwhelmed Changbin like a tidal wave. He felt a sudden urge to bury himself six feet under. His two guests revelled in his apparent discomfort. This was confirmed when they launched into a long discussion highlighting all the record store owner’s academic achievements. Changbin listened to his former best friend recount the most embarrassing moments of his life. Deep, melodious laughter accompanied Jisung’s stories.
The Australian ran his long fingers through his light hair with each burst of laughter. He didn’t realise that his movements fascinated Changbin. He didn’t realise that the dimples that appeared in his cheeks before each burst of laughter were destroying the barrier he had built around his heart. Changbin moved silently, hoping to find a hiding place between his worktop and his refrigerator. His neighbour’s fingers closed around his wrist before he could escape. His eyes widened, following the path of that warm hand against his skin. He could feel his best friend’s laughing eyes and imagined Felix’s shy smile.
“I didn’t want to bother you any longer,” explained Felix, his eyes avoiding Changbin’s. “I made brownie to apologise and…” He paused. His fingers left Changbin’s wrist to rub the back of his neck.
A shiver ran down Changbin’s spine when Felix’s lips brushed against his, light as butterfly wings. They disappeared as quickly as they had appeared, leaving a ghostly trace on his skin. The opaque box sat on the worktop, and a floral scent trailed the way to the door Felix had just walked through. Changbin let his fingers lick the spot where his neighbour’s mouth had touched his skin. He could still feel the warmth of the contact.
Jisung had abandoned the comfort of the sofa to rush over to the worktop. He took a big bite out of a piece of chocolate square. “This is the best day of my life!” His enthusiasm elicited a grimace from the record store owner. “He makes you shy, and he makes the best brownies I’ve ever eaten. Marry him, Seo Changbin.”
“Shut up,” Changbin replied, blushing to his ears.
***
Felix moved into Changbin’s flat on a temporary basis. He realised this when the floral scent of his neighbour’s shampoo permeated the thick blankets on his sofa. He also left long blond hairs on the linoleum floor, which the record dealer found when sweeping the main room. His friends teased him about his constant presence. They urged him to go for it and kiss him full on the mouth as soon as the Australian’s name crossed his lips. Minho enjoyed watching him intently. His silence annoyed Changbin, but he refused to fall headlong into the traps set for him by his elder. Even Chan had noticed his dreamy sighs and absent smiles.
He was fucked.
He had been fucked ever since Felix had slipped into that lift cabin that they had both been avoiding since the breakdown. He had always had a weakness for beauty, and Lee Felix’s beauty captivated him.
“I have a friend who often makes fun of me because I’m only bronze in League of Legends… even though he’s no better than me,” Felix said, waving his hands as he sipped his steaming tea before setting it down on the table. “He says it’s ironic for someone who works in my field.”
Changbin was barely listening.
His eyes were mesmerised by the younger man’s lips, by his deep voice muffled by the tumult of his thoughts. His heart urged him to close the distance between them, to satisfy his fantasies by kissing him. He did nothing. He contented himself with drowning his desires in his hot drink, savouring the rich taste of chocolate on his tongue.
“... there’s also this person I like. Seungmin tells me to go for it.”
“Hmm…”
Felix’s melodious laughter echoed through the flat. His shoulders shook with mirth. His body leaned towards Changbin, closing the gap between them. Changbin’s ears burned when his neighbour’s lips touched his. The contact was so light and fleeting that Changbin thought he was dreaming. His heart raced in his chest as a shiver ran down his neck and shoulders. Red spots spread across Felix’s cheeks, his eyes clouding over as he muttered something incomprehensible. He backed away hastily, as if struck by an electric current. He jumped to his feet and left Changbin on the sofa. His cup was still steaming on the coffee table.
The record shop owner remained frozen for a few seconds, breathless, unable to believe that the kiss had really happened. His hands trembled as he brought them to his burning lips. Then, his instincts kicked in and he got up and ran after Felix. His socks slipped on the tiled floor of the corridors, causing him to lose his balance several times, but he didn’t slow down. He skidded in the stairwell and climbed the steps three at a time. His heart was pounding in his chest.
He reached Felix’s apartment door just before it closed completely. Slipping his foot into the gap, he stifled a curse when the door scratched his skin. His fingers brushed against the blond’s as he managed to grab the handle. Felix froze, surprised, a gasp of astonishment escaping him as his eyes shone with a mixture of panic and curiosity. Changbin felt a wave of urgency and affection wash over him: he couldn’t let him leave and feel guilty.
Changbin placed his hands against the Australian’s cheeks and pressed his lips against his with an intensity he didn’t know he possessed. The kiss, deep and burning, exuded haste and tenderness. Their breaths mingled in a disorderly ballet. His tongue slid against the younger man’s mouth, tasting his lip balm. Felix’s fingers lost themselves in the strands of his hair, trembling and uncertain, as their bodies pressed together in the narrow entrance to the flat.
They kissed for a long time.
They kissed until they lost track of time.
They kissed until they were breathless.
Their foreheads met. Their panting breaths filled the short distance between their faces. Felix’s eyes sparkled. A subtle blush spread across his cheeks. Changbin felt a pleasant warmth spread throughout his body.
“I’m not letting you run away after kissing me,” whispered Changbin, his heart pounding in his chest. Felix let out a soft laugh. His lips brushed against Changbin’s in a tender kiss.
“I didn’t want to take you by surprise,” he murmured, taking a few steps back. “I didn’t know how you would react.”
“I love surprises.”
An obvious lie.
They both knew that Changbin hated having his routine disrupted. They knew that Felix’s arrival in the building had caused palpable displeasure for the record store owner. They knew that Changbin was annoyed by impromptu visits from his best friends.
But he was willing to let himself be surprised by this person who made his knees weak and his heart flutter.