A girl stood in the middle of the elevator, black bobbed hair brushing her jawline, blue streaks fading at the tips. A yellow cold-shoulder top clung to her frame, worn jeans and bright red sneakers grounding her. Slung over her back, a guitar gig bag cut diagonally across her body.
DING. The doors slid open.
The apartment manager waited with a polite smile.
"Miss Kari? Right this way. We've prepared everything for you."
She followed, one hand gripping the strap. Her eyes flicked everywhere, hungry for details.
At the door, he unlocked it with a flourish. "Here it is. Freshly cleaned and ready."
"Woah…!"
Kari stepped in, circling the room with a soft gasp. She tugged at the curtains, peered at the night skyline, even bounced on the couch cushions to check the ceiling light. Kneeling, she pressed her ear to the wall and knocked twice.
Her brows pinched. "Hey… are the walls soundproof?"
The manager chuckled. "Quite thick, yes. You won't need to worry."
Her lips curled into a grin. She hugged the strap to her chest. "Perfect. Then I'll stay."
"Enjoy your new home, Miss Kari."
"Thanks!" She closed the door, spinning once before tossing her guitar case onto the couch. Flopping beside it, she stretched wide across the cushions, beaming up at the ceiling.
"No one's gonna shut me up here."
On the balcony next door, Seojun leaned against the railing. His gaze lingered on the balcony beside his.
He exhaled, resting his chin in his palm.
"Someone finally moved in that apartment, huh?"
His eyes dropped to the street below, where headlights blurred in steady streams. Yura's voice echoed in his head. "Let's hang out."
Seojun's fingers drummed once against the railing before he pulled out his phone. He stared at the screen for a moment, then pressed call.
"Boss? ...Hey, I was wondering if I could take tomorrow off."
"Again?!"
Seojun winced, holding the phone slightly away. "It's just, uh, I have an important meeting tomorrow."
"Meeting, my ass." The man's voice came sharp and bitter through the line. "You always show up late. You look and act like some goddamn creep, unsettling our customers!"
Seojun's throat tightened. He opened his mouth, but the voice cut him off.
"You know what? Fine. Take tomorrow off. Take your whole life off, you're fired!"
BEEP. The line went dead.
Seojun stared at his reflection in the dark screen until his own face blurred. Slowly, he slipped the phone into his pocket.
"Whatever," he muttered, pushing off the railing. "I didn't like this job anyways."
Seojun collapsed onto his bed, one arm draped across his eyes. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen and the occasional car passing outside.
He shifted onto his side. The mattress groaned.
Five minutes later, he rolled onto his back.
Another five, and he turned again, pulling the blanket up to his chin.
Sleep refused him. His thoughts spun in circles like the ceiling fan.
He pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to smother it all into darkness.
Strum.
A guitar chord slipped faintly through the wall.
Seojun froze.
Another chord followed, brighter this time, paired with a soft hum. The notes tumbled unevenly, as if whoever played was warming up, searching for the right melody.
The wall wasn't soundproof enough, the girl's singing pulls him back to a place he'd sworn never to return.
Oryong's heavy drumming rattling the walls of the garage, Jiho's crooked grin as he belted lyrics off-key, his own fingers blistered raw against guitar strings.
For a moment, he could almost smell the dust, the sweat, the electric buzz of a cheap amp.
The girl's voice carried clearer now, threading through the wall like it had every right to invade his space.
Seojun pressed his palms hard over his ears.
The notes still slipped through. Every strum was a spark against raw nerves, every hum dragging him further into memories he wanted buried.
He turned over onto his side, face mashed into the pillow. The blanket twisted around his legs as he rolled again, then again, as if movement alone could shake the sound loose from his head.
But the music didn't stop.
"Damn it…" His voice came muffled under the blanket.
Seojun clenched his fists. His pulse hammered in his ears louder than the music itself.
He shot upright, before he could second-guess it, he stumbled off the bed and staggered toward the wall.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
"HEY!" His voice cracked, jagged with sleeplessness. "Keep it down!"
The chords stuttered on the other side.
Through the wall, Kari's voice sang out, not in melody this time, but in exaggerated apology.
"Oh—Soooorryyy~!"
She set the guitar back down on the couch, fingers still buzzing faintly from the strings. A laugh slipped out of her before she could stop it, but then heat rose to her cheeks. She pressed the back of her hand against her face, groaning softly.
"...But the manager said the walls were soundproof."
Seojun still sat still on his bed, fist still hovering inches from the wall. The corner of his mouth twitched, caught between disbelief and irritation.
"...Would've been better for both of us if you'd picked another building."
He let his hand fall, dragging it down his face. His temples throbbed, his pulse still racing from the sudden burst of anger.
Seojun groaned, collapsing back down onto his bed, grabbing his pillow and shoving it over his head.
The next morning…
At the bus stop across from the café, Yura sat with one leg crossed neatly over the other, phone pressed to her ear.
Her face was unreadable, her voice clipped.
"...Understood."
The word left her lips calm and precise, like the click of a lock sliding shut.
She lowered the phone slowly, thumb brushing over the dark screen before tucking it into her pocket. For a moment, she sat completely still, as if letting the word settle. Then her posture shifted, lightened, and the faintest smile tugged at her mouth, like she'd just folded the call away into some hidden compartment.
HISS~ The bus arrived, braking.
Seojun stepped down onto the pavement, half-asleep. His hair stuck up at odd angles, his shirt wrinkled, shoes dragging as if the weight of sleep clung to his ankles.
Yura grinned brightly.
"You're late."
Seojun stared, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Oh… you look, pretty."
Yura laughed. "Thanks… and, you look just the way I wanted you to."
Seojun frowned. "Huh?"
She only tilted her head, lips curling into a secretive smile. "It's nothing." With a light tug on his sleeve, she turned toward the café down the block. "Let's go!."
Seojun trailed after her, confusion lingering, though he didn't push it. Her bright steps seemed to scatter his questions before he could even ask them.
In the café…
The café smelled of roasted beans and sugar, warm and heavy in the air. Soft music trickled from hidden speakers, but Seojun barely heard it.
He sat hunched over the table, fingers curled loosely around the warm porcelain cup. The macchiato's foam swirled into pale rings, and he stared into it like it might give him the answers his wall of newspapers never could. His reflection warped in the surface, blurry, fragile.
Around them, chairs scraped, spoons clinked, people laughed. But to Seojun, it was all static.
Across from him, Yura rested her chin on one hand, elbow propped against the table. Her other hand traced lazy circles around the rim of her half-finished coffee. Her eyes didn't leave him.
"You look like you're lost in your thoughts," she said finally, voice quiet enough to blend with the café hum.
Seojun blinked, dragging himself back to the present. "O-oh, sorry…"
Her lips curved faintly, almost amused. "Mmm. Even now, you've been staring at that cup for ten minutes straight."
He dropped his eyes again, shoulders slumping. "My bad…"
Yura tilted her head, studying him. Her smile stayed, but there was a sharpness behind it, a brightness that didn't match the lazy way she stirred her coffee.
"So, Seojun… how is your journey going?"
Seojun's head lifted a little "Huh?"
She tilted her head, as if she hadn't said anything unusual.
His lips parted, then closed. He looked down at the macchiato again. "...Oh."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke a word. Seojun finally let out a slow breath.
"It's… hard to explain," he muttered. "I've been… kind of on my own for a while now. Haven't been sleeping much. Can't really talk to anyone about… anything. And money's… rough. Feels like I'm always barely hanging on."
He rubbed the back of his neck, shoulders curling inward as if embarrassed by his own honesty. "I don't know. Guess I just don't blend well with society these days…"
Yura's expression didn't change, but her eyes sharpened, watching him like she was weighing each word. Then she smiled faintly.
"So that's why…"
Seojun gets startled. "...Huh?"
Yura just smiled, unfazed. "Just drink your coffee. Don't worry about the bill, I'll pay for it."
He shifted uncomfortably, staring down at the cup. "You don't have to do that…"
Before he could protest further, Yura stood up. Her chair scraped lightly against the floor as she stepped around the table. Seojun's eyes followed her, confused, until she slid into the seat beside him.
Her arm draped casually across his shoulder, warm and effortless, as if they'd known each other for years. Seojun stiffened, his back straightening like a wire.
Their eyes met. Yura's gaze was steady, her expression unreadable except for the playful curve of her mouth.
Seojun felt his throat tighten. "W-What are you—"
Without answering, Yura reached forward, lifted his cup, and tilted it toward him. "Say ahhh."
His eyes widened. "Wait, you're not seriously—"
"Ahhh," she echoed softly, coaxing.
Flustered, Seojun hesitated, then parted his lips just enough for the cup to touch them. Warm bitterness slid across his tongue as she tipped the drink toward him.
Yura lowered the cup back onto the table with a light clink, her arm still resting around his shoulders.
Seojun's face turned red uncontrollably. He turned his head slightly away, hoping she wouldn't notice.
Wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He stuttered.
"W-What was that for…?"
Before he could get his answer, the café door swung open with a chime.
A group of men strode in, shoulders broad, tattoos curling up their arms, their laughter loud enough to cut through the café's calm. They didn't order. They didn't even glance at the counter. Instead, they pushed straight past the tables and disappeared into a door marked STAFF ONLY.
What the…
And then, like some unspoken cue, the rest of the customers began to stand. One by one, every single person in the café got up, quietly leaving their half-finished drinks behind as they too filed into the back room.
Within moments, the café was empty.
Seojun sat frozen in his chair, speechless, the untouched macchiato still steaming faintly in front of him.
Yura finally stood. "It's about time."
His head snapped toward her. "...What do you mean?"
Her eyes gleamed as she looked down at him, she smiled casually.
"Let's go. This is what you were waiting for, right?"