TaeKook: #5

Jeongguk wasn’t always one to ask his neighbours for favours. Especially considering the fact that he was a major shut-in and he hadn’t ever really spoken to his neighbours. Maybe he passed them on the way to his apartment, giving them a curt, silent nod before retreating.
But, the apartment building’s walls were thin, and Jeongguk’s neighbours to his left were being incredibly loud. Whether they were fighting or not was yet to be seen, and would probably never be seen. But as he continued his writing, his artistic pursuit, he found he needed to break away from his home and go to another.
It was far too cold to sit outside, and the nearest coffee shop was a car ride away, something Jeongguk wasn’t willing to travel to at nearly seven at night. Besides, he only had...five paragraphs left? He just needed quiet to finish them.
The neighbour to his right was usually quiet, and he hoped dearly that his left neighbours would quiet down so he wouldn’t have to resort to asking his right neighbour for a safe haven.
However, the noise didn’t cease.
And so, Jeongguk found himself standing outside of #5, laptop in hand and feet bouncing nervously. He hadn’t met #5 before, was sure he’d never had the pleasure of walking past them in his daily routine. But even so, he let a tentative hand raise up, ball into a fist, and knock.
“Yes, yes,” a voice spoke through the door, footsteps approaching heavily before the door rattled open.
Jeongguk was incredibly blown away by the man standing in front of him.
#5 was his height, but seemed taller with his dyed sticking out the way it did. His shirt hung low on his torso, and his eyes were heavily lidded, as if he’d just woken up. Jeongguk suddenly felt subconscious about his own plain hair that always hung over his eyes.
“I-I’m sorry to bother you,” Jeongguk said, bowing a bit. “My neighbours in #3 are very loud.”
“Okay, and?” #5 said, waiting for context.
“I came to ask if you’d allow me to finish my project in your home for a moment.” Jeongguk motioned to the laptop balanced on his arm, and #5 looked him up and down.
“You live next to me?” Jeongguk nodded. “I’ve never seen you before.” Jeongguk fumbled around in his pocket to brandish his house key. “Ah, I see. Well... Alright. Come on in.” #5 moved to let Jeongguk step in with his laptop, looking around at the dimly lit room. It was strange, being in someone else’s apartment, even though the basic layout was the same. Where Jeongguk had a coffee table, #5 had a couch. Where Jeongguk would put his shoes, #5 would put his jackets.
“Thank you,” Jeongguk said, slipping off his shoes and putting them where #5’s were.
“It’s no trouble, I suppose,” #5 said. “I understand what it’s like to have noisy neighbours.” #5 looked at him, and Jeongguk panicked in the split moment that he thought #5 was referring to him. “I can hear those two idiots from all the way across, if they’re loud enough.” As #5 said this, a loud scream emitted from in between the walls, but was heavily muffled by the increase of walls. “See?” Jeongguk nodded. “You’re free to do your work where you’d like.”
“Thank you,” Jeongguk said, heading for the couch and opening his half-closed laptop.
“You thirsty?” #5 asked. Jeongguk looked up to see #5 looking through his fridge. “I’ve got...soda, water, some tea, too.”
“I-I’m okay,” Jeongguk said. “Thank you for the offer.” God, Jeongguk was so incredibly nervous. The writing that stared at him seemed impossible to finish at this point, regardless of the lack of noise or not. It was #5 that was sending him off the deep end.
“Well, you do your work, then,” #5 said. “I’m going to go take a shower.” #5 pointed to the direction of the bathroom. “Knock if you need something.” Jeongguk nodded and watched as #5 went towards the hallway, and he waited until he heard the faint sound of water crashing down before he tried to continue writing.
“Okay, okay,” Jeongguk said to himself. “What next?” He tapped away for a few moments and let his mind wander off, his brain beginning to concentrate on the words and ignore his surroundings. It was dim in the room, which helped him to keep his eyes on the screen, fingers on the keyboard.
He was immersed in his current paragraph when he jumped at the sudden voice next to him.
“You’ve made a grammatical error,” it said, and Jeongguk jumped and nearly sent the laptop flying off.
“What?” he asked, not quite sure what was happening until he looked to his right to see #5 sitting there with damp hair plastered to his head, shirtless with sweats on. He pointed to a word on the screen. “See, you wrote, ‘unbelieve,’ instead of, ‘disbelieve.’” Jeongguk followed the finger to see that yes, #5 was right and Jeongguk had made an error.
“O-Oh. Thank you.” Jeongguk quickly fixed the error and ceased his typing speed as #5 continued to stare at the screen.
“What’re you writing?” #5 asked, tilting his head. “It sounds like an essay, but it’s all...emotional.”
“It’s a story,” Jeongguk said quietly.
“Ah, you’re a writer?” Jeongguk wouldn’t call himself a writer, per se. He was more of a...literature hobbyist. Nonetheless...
“Yeah, kind of.” #5 grinned.
“You should show me one of your stories, yeah? I bet they’re great.” Jeongguk could feel a blush creeping up his cheeks, and he really thanked the room for being dim then.
“They’re not...finished,” Jeongguk said, and #5 pouted.
“Ah, please? Just a little bit.” Jeongguk sighed and clicked through his laptop, finding the epilogue of a story he had abandoned a few months ago.
“Here,” Jeongguk said, turning the laptop towards #5 and letting him read.
“‘It was quiet on the streets of Seoul,’” #5 read aloud, “‘and despite their efforts to keep quiet, the two notorious alcoholics stumbled home, hand in hand knowing perfectly well what was to happen in fifteen minutes due time.’” As #5 read it aloud, Jeongguk realised what he had chosen, and quickly turned the laptop away. “Hey, I was reading that!”
“Not that one,” Jeongguk said quickly, but #5’s hand stopped Jeongguk from clicking away.
“I promise I won’t make fun of it,” #5 assured, and Jeongguk sighed and let #5 continue reading , refusing to watch the ups and downs in #5’s face as he passed paragraph after paragraph, finally sitting back when he was done.
“Well?” Jeongguk asked, knowing for a fact that it was probably one of the worst things he’s written.
“It’s good,” #5 said. “Maybe it needs more context, I don’t know. Not during the sex scene, but before and afterwards, when they’re going home and when they’re leaving each other. There’s so much detail in the middle, but almost none in the beginning and end.” Jeongguk looked at #5 curiously. “Sorry,” he chuckled. “I took a couple years of extra literature in high school. I didn’t mean to nitpick.”
“No, thank you,” Jeongguk said, looking back at the story. “Really. I...never thought of it that way.” #5 chuckled.
“Did you take literature classes?” Jeongguk shrugged.
“Sort of,” he decided.
“‘Sort of?’”
“I mean, I did, but...I spent most of them writing my own stories. I always liked science more.” #5 nodded.
“Makes sense. Science is easier to explain than anything else.” Jeongguk shrugged. “If you liked science so much, how come you wanted to write?”
“Well...,” Jeongguk hummed, but found it hard to explain. “It’s... Even though I was never good at literature, and I never wanted to read any of the texts or vocabulary tests, I always liked... I like being able to make my own worlds. With their own science and rules.” #5 held up a finger.
“One minute,” he said, standing up, and Jeongguk got a good look at how long #5’s arms were as he reached to the top of the bookshelf to pull out a book and bring it back to the couch. “Here.” #5 handed Jeongguk the book, medium-sized and in excellent condition. “It was my advanced literature book,” he explained, then lowered his voice, “that I stole.” Jeongguk couldn’t help but laugh. “If you’re having trouble, just leaf through this. I’ve lent it to many a friend who’s had an essay they needed to finish, but didn’t know where to start.” Jeongguk opened the book, looking at the pages, a few doodled on as was a high schooler’s main pasttime.
“Thank you, but...,” Jeongguk said, feeling humble and just the tiniest bit grateful, “really, I...couldn’t borrow this.” #5 shrugged.
“Okay, you can keep it, then.” Jeongguk looked at him.
“Huh?”
“Yeah, really. It’s actually been sitting there for a couple years now, since all my friends don’t have to write essays anymore. I’ve practically memorised the thing, and it hasn’t been put to good use in awhile. You should have it.” #5 put a hand on the book and gave Jeongguk a smile.
“T-Thank you,” Jeongguk said.
“You’re welcome, Jeongguk,” #5 said, and he was astounded at the fact that he even knew his name. “It’s on your laptop.” Jeongguk looked on the laptop’s lid to see his name, Jeon Jeongguk, lettered in permanent marker on a piece of tape.
“Oh,” Jeongguk said with a chuckle, thankful that he hadn’t run into a stalker of any kind. It was silent for a moment, in which they both noticed the lack of noise through the thin walls.
“Guess they stopped,” #5 said, and Jeongguk nodded.
“I should head back to my own apartment,” Jeongguk said, standing with his laptop in one arm, book in the other. “Thank you again for letting me work here.” #5 stood with him.
“It was my pleasure,” #5 said happily. “Here, I’ll get the door for you.” As Jeongguk left the apartment, he sent a glance back to #5 from his door.
“Have a good night,” Jeongguk said. #5 nodded.
“You, too, Jeongguk,” #5 said, and disappeared into his apartment, shutting the door.
Jeongguk made it into his apartment again with little trouble, the noise from before hardly on his mind as he set his laptop down and went to leaf through the literature book he’d been given. He lifted the front cover to examine its previous owners.
Min Yoongi, year one.
Jung Hoseok, year two.
Kim Taehyung, year three.
“Kim Taehyung,” Jeongguk said to himself with a grin. “Appropriate.”