She liked the quiet melody of an acoustic guitar.

Shinhye had a hard time differentiating the beat of her heart and the rhythm of the music. The apartment walls were neither thin nor thick. She never heard the everyday conversations that were on the other side of the walls unless the windows were open. But the echoes of a guitar hooked on an amplifier or the steady rhythm of drums permeated through the plaster and into her world. At first, the sounds terrified her more than the dark shadows in the corner, cast by her own mind. Then, she grew annoyed. First, Shinhye’s irritation was towards the building complex manager making her pay such a high rent for thin walls. The irritation redirected itself to her neighbors. However, it all quickly faded to resignation and acceptance. Her neighbors only played their instruments varying from late morning to early evening. They did not make any other nighttime noises, thank God, and never slammed their door when coming home late at night. Soon, she began to work her way around the sounds. She liked to time them with the clicks of her keyboard while editing.

Foreign, yet not unwelcome.

Tonight began with guitar notes drifting into her room. Her neighbor must be composing a new song, she supposed. The occasional odd note and stop were characteristic of her neighbor. She wondered where his roommate was. Whenever she opened her window to let out the stuffiness from her cooking, she usually heard two male voices laughing or intensely discussing songs. Tonight, there was only a guitar to keep her company as she cooked.

Perhaps her neighbors were composers or song writers. That would explain the numerous unfinished songs and timed notes she heard. Perhaps they were even singers. Often, she heard voices harmonizing to music. Or maybe they were just a pair of bored men who liked to blow off steam with music.

She liked to keep it a mystery. One day, they were composers. Another day, they were part of an orchestra ensemble. On the days where eraser dust littered her desk and her monitor was resting from hours of work, her neighbors were idols.

Shinhye quietly laughed to herself as she stirred her stew on the burner. Her apartment complex was homely and comfortable. The elevator had a mind of its own. There were three main rooms in her particular complex; the bedroom, the living room attached to a small kitchen, and the bathroom. Her books were precariously stacked or shelved and her desk took up the majority of the living room. She did not own a tv – she could certainly afford one but not the monthly additional bills. Water from all the drains liked to switch from hot to cold and there were only two or three wall sockets per room.

A little cramped and dusty, but she liked her apartment. The renters were quiet and mindful (with the exception of her neighbors) and the lively old security guard made sure no one too sketchy roamed around the building.

Yep, she thought as she brought her stew to a simmer, my neighbors are definitely idol stars who would want to escape a luxurious life for a modest one.

Suddenly, a door slammed and the guitar stopped. Loud shuffling of shoes being thrown and keys clinking on a counter invaded her bubble. Her other neighbor had returned.

“Hyung, you’re still playing?” A cheerful voice said with mild astonishment coloring his tone. “I figured you were still practicing when you didn’t answer your phone.”

“Sorry Jonghyun. I kept my phone off since it kept ringing while I was playing,” a voice replied. “I ordered jangjam and tangsuyook since I’m pretty sure you didn’t do any grocery shopping while you were out.”

Shinhye liked both voices. They matched the instruments that each person played. The first voice was upbeat and filled with color. Like the drums, she guessed the owner of the voice was lively and energetic. The playful way he interacted with his roommate made her believe this person put his heart on display for all to see. A small blip of envy came into her heart but quickly disappeared.

The other voice, the guitarist, was the opposite of the drummer. He was much more reserved than his counterpart. But there was a musical soft-spoken quality way in how he chose his words. Like the careful of his guitar, the guitarist was quiet yet constant. She had to strain her ears to hear this voice but it was always there. It hardly ever raised above normal conversation volume. Something about his voice warmed her, like a blanket around her shoulders on a cold night.

“Ah.. Hyung… I’m so hungry,” The first voice whined as Shinhye reached into her cabinet for a bowl. “Why don’t we have any food in the fridge?! I’m going to go crazy! The delivery man won’t be here for another ten minutes but I can already smell food.”

“Well you are the one who refuses to go grocery shopping. And you’re not going crazy, I can smell it too,” The guitarist reasoned and she could hear the click of a case. “I think our neighbor left her window open while cooking her dinner.”

Shinhye’s hand froze while spooning rice into the small bowl. She chewed the inside of her lip as she looked at the full pot of stew and steaming rice cooker.

“Hey, how do you know our neighbor is a girl? I’ve never seen her around the apartment complex. I’ve never even heard her moving around,” Jonghyun, Shinhye decided he must be the drummer as she reached for two bowls. Perhaps they’re brothers? “Hey do you think she would give us some food if we asked?”

She heard a heavy sigh from the other side of the wall. “I’m just guessing,” the guitarist said offhandedly. “And no, Jonghyun. We ordered food. There’s no need to pester someone else because we forgot to shop.”

Feeling a little foolish at the three bowls of rice sitting on her kitchen counter, she waited for a reply from the drummer. But a quick series of knocks coming from her door broke her out of her train of thought. Startled, she swiftly moved to her door and looked through the keyhole. A man with a motorcycle helmet and tray of food waited patiently on the other side. She opened the door just a sliver and peaked her head outside. Opening , she whispered, “Ahjusshi this isn’t mine –“

But before she could finish, the delivery man in the helmet turned his back and started walking down the hall. She could see white wires coming from outside of the helmet, showing the man was probably listening to music. Not knowing what to do, she quickly shut her door and locked the bolts. Her body slid against the door and she sat, drumming her fingers against the ground in nervousness.

What do I do, what do I do? Shinhye frantically thought of the tray of steaming food separated from her by the door. I should give it to them. But I don’t want to see them. I don’t want to see anyone. They wouldn’t want to see me.

Her eyes rested on the bowls of rice and stew. 

Swallowing down the lump in , she decided.
 

Jinki felt his stomach growl as he tidied up the dinner table. The food he ordered should have been delivered by now. Jonghyun was opening and closing the refrigerator door with impatience. It did not help that the aroma of their neighbor’s cooking was wafting in with the slight breeze. Whenever her window was open, he could always smell her sweet cooking. It reminded him of home and brought a strange comfort to him.

It smells so good, Jinki thought as he rubbed his stomach. Her boyfriend is going to be a lucky guy. I haven’t had something to eat since morning at the cafe. Maybe we should ask her to spare us some leftovers? No, that’s pathetic. We should just wait -

Soft, careful knocks penetrated his thoughts. Jonghyun stopped opening the refrigerator door and stared at him.

“Ah.. Um. Hello,” A timid, soft voice came from outside. Onew and Jonghyun both looked out their window to see a small hand waving out from their neighbor’s window. “The delivery man accidently delivered your food to me. I moved it to in front of your door. And I guess that’s it? Goodbye.”

The hand moved back into the room and the window shut with a thunk. Jonghyun went outside their apartment and brought in the delivered food to the table.

“Onew hyung! Let’s eat!” Jonghyun said, splitting his wooden takeout chopsticks and shoving whatever he could reach into his mouth. “Hey did you order soup too? You usually only order noodles and sweet and sour pork! It’s so good to eat after spending all day recording with the group!”

Jinki sat at the table and stared at the soup bowls. He was sure he did not order the extra food. Bringing the bowl up for a sip, a subtle spicy broth warmed his fingertips and toes. He smiled to himself, thinking about the dainty hand and soft voice next door. Briefly, questions on what she was like, what was her age, her face, her name bombarded his mind. But for now, he would take this warmth she shyly offered.

Thank you.
 

Author's Note: I missed you guys. 

This is going to be a slow fic in many aspects because it requires a lot of research trying to get the Shinee member personalities after not following them for a while haha. Drop a comment if you want because feedback is always nice and I'm not a plethora of ideas as I used to be. Thanks for reading!