It’s been five months since Park Chorong moved into her new apartment. Compared to her old apartment, it’s much roomier and cool. Her last apartment was small, hot, and it was always loud because it was located in a part of town that seemed to never go to sleep. Children going to school in the morning, lots and lots of delivery vans going back and forth in the afternoon, and - just her luck - there was always someone throwing a party in the middle of the night.

Do not even get her started on the local church that would ring their gigantic (and loud) bell every single hour. Chorong is a woman of faith, but she had to admit someone was definitely testing her patience.

After looking for months and months, she finally managed to find her current apartment. It’s a rental, but she doesn’t mind - she doesn’t need to own a house. Realistically speaking, Park Chorong’s just turned 30. Marriage and kids and pets and, yeah, buying a house… Those are topics her friend group has been chatting about more and more often, it seems. Although she doesn’t plan on staying in her new apartment forever, it’s a nice change of pace.

Not to mention, there’s lots of big families living in her new building. And she knows this not because she wants to, not because she went around snooping… No. Unfortunately for Chorong, every day she will listen to her upstairs neighbors’ three kids running around the house. And that would be okay, except there’s more. Her left door neighbors also have a daughter. It’s tough to say which is worse: the kids from upstairs running around and yelling, or the little girl down the hall who seems to cry all day long. (Chorong worried at first, surely it isn’t normal for a child to cry that hard, that often. But she’s ran into the family who lives next door a couple of times. They seem perfectly nice.)

As time went by, Chorong’s been noticing the kids less and less. She figures they’re children. They’re meant to run around with their siblings and yell and, much to her chagrin, she supposes there will be times where they cry too. Hell, even Chorong cries sometimes - and she’s a grown adult. 

Last month, when Chorong was celebrating her four month anniversary at her new apartment, the black-haired girl noticed a moving truck outside. A couple of looks outside her window and Chorong learned that the people moving were, in fact, her right door neighbors. 

“Such a shame,” she muttered to herself. 

Out of everyone in the building, Chorong rather liked her right door neighbors. A couple apparently her age, the only time Chorong ever even heard them at all was when the man would watch whatever sports match on TV. She would know, they shared a wall (Chorong’s bedroom wall and the couple’s living room). Aside from that, they were the perfect neighbors. 

It was a peaceful three weeks in the black-haired girl’s bedroom, until one day when Chorong took notice of her landlord standing outside. Unconsciously avoiding the window (as if her landlord could spot her from outside), Chorong stepped further inside her own bedroom. The man seemed to be waiting. Eventually, and confirming Chorong’s theory, a young girl finally arrived in her own car and followed the man inside the building. 

Now, Chorong has absolutely nothing to do with what her landlord does in his spare time. In fact, the less Chorong has to see of him, the better. Not that he’s ever been impolite towards her or done anything at all, Chorong just gets a creepy vibe from the man. She’s renting his apartment, yes, but that’s it. The way she sees it, as long as she pays her rent on time (and she does) then there really is no reason why she should have to see her landlord at all. 

Can she hear the two of them behind her bedroom wall? Yes, they are chatting rather animatedly. Does it concern her? No. And thus, she gathers her laptop and decides to finish her work on the living room couch. 

On Friday, a week later, the black-haired girl is on the phone to her coworker (and friend) as she goes about fixing herself some pasta for dinner. 

“Did you ever find out what happened with your landlord last week?” Naeun asks. 

Chorong shrugs before it occurs to her that her friend can’t actually see her. “No clue,” she says. There had been no more developments, no more sightings of either her landlord or any women. She put the issue to rest. 

“Maybe it was just a booty call,” Naeun muses. 

Stirring her pasta so it doesn’t stick to the pot, Chorong gives it a thought. Who would even sleep with her landlord in the first place? “He’s sort of… I don’t know,” she expresses, honestly. 

The black-haired girl can hear her friend laughing through the phone. Once the noise dies down, she tells Chorong “You are a gay woman.”

That’s true but that doesn’t mean Chorong can’t take offense. “And? Do I not have eyes?”

As they banter, a white light reflects off Chorong’s kitchen window. Reacting immediately, the black-haired girl walks in the direction of the light and notices three different cars pulling up and parking close to her building. 

“What is it?” Naeun questions. “You went quiet all of a sudden.”

“Wait, there’s a bunch of cars outside.”

Chorong watches as about a dozen people exit the three cars, both women and men, all seemingly young and carrying several bottles of alcohol.

“Hell no…” 

“What?” Naeun asks, curiosity literally palpable even though she’s not physically there. 

“A lot, I mean a lot, of people just came into my building holding a ton of booze…” she explains to her phone. “And if I’m not mistaken,” Chorong pauses. Turning off the stove and putting a lid on her freshly cooked pasta, she walks to her door. Careful so no one can hear her snooping, she peeks through the peephole. “They’re going in the house next to mine,” she whispers, face squished against the door.

Naeun audibly gasps, clearly too immersed in whatever is happening at Chorong’s building. “The one that’s empty? No way…” The chances that the people currently outside of Chorong’s house could hear Naeun’s voice through the phone are slim. Even so, the brunette finds herself matching Chorong’s hushed tone.

The black-haired girl feels herself getting quickly irritated by the amount of people entering the empty apartment next to hers, a headache already forming right above her right ear. At this point, she’s very sure it wouldn’t make a difference how quiet or loud she is. These people would not hear her. Regardless, she tiptoes away from her front door and holds her phone back to ear. 

“Botong is home,” Naeun announces. “Do keep me updated.”

Chorong lets her friend go, remembering she has her dinner waiting for her in the kitchen. Trying to relax, she gets herself a nice tall glass of wine. After gathering a couple of candles, she sits in front of the TV and slurps her pasta. It’s a Friday night, there is no work tomorrow. The food she made is delicious (not that Chorong is one to brag) and she’s just gotten off the phone with her friend. Everything is perfect, she is content.

And it stays that way for, maybe, all of 30 minutes. 

It will gradually get worse. For now, all her neighbors are doing is talking. In a very loud manner. And there’s giggling. More giggling. Some banging on walls. Before she realizes it, they’re shouting. 

From inside her house, Chorong can hear the neighbors’ front door opening and closing every 10 minutes. Before she can stop herself, she wonders “Where are they even going?”

The black-haired girl feels her blood start to boil when, perhaps an hour later, her bell rings. Chorong is half irritated, but she still has her manners. Taking a deep breath, she rises from the couch and walks to the intercom. 

Nothing.

She figures, “Okay, they’re most likely drunk by now. They probably have no idea whose doorbell they’re ringing, anyway.”

Returning to her couch, Chorong downs the rest of her wine in one gulp. It’s a mistake because once the wine gets to her, though, the noise starts to piss her off even more. The TV is no longer entertaining her, there isn’t a single show that can catch her attention. She simply mutes it, opting to leave it on so the light from the screen will keep her company.

Her phone buzzes and she sighs, happy for the distraction. 

Naeun:
Updates?

Chorong:
They’re throwing a party next door. 
Either that, or they’re having the loudest business meeting in history.

When Chorong’s doorbell rings for the fifth time that night, she’s absolutely fuming. She has no intention of buzzing them in, settling instead for waiting outside for the people who have been causing her to have a massive headache for the past hour.

One thing about Chorong, she’s generally a sweet and calm person. That is, until someone pisses her off. She doesn’t immediately lose it. No, in order to get her to lose it she has to actually be really pissed off. Much like she is now. 

She knew that if she didn’t buzz those drunken idiots in, they would probably either realize they had the wrong house or they would simply keep pressing the buttons on the intercom until someone could no longer stand it (ultimately letting them in). She’s not sure which of the two happened, however, she really doesn’t care. 

Standing halfway between her front door and the elevators, Chorong instantly yells at the people who exit the elevator. A slim blonde and a taller brunette, accompanied by two rather average looking men. All of them are clearly out of it so Chorong should feel the tiniest bit of pity or compassion towards these people. 

That is not the case. 

“Hi,” she spits at the group. “You guys have been ringing my doorbell all night and frankly, it’s starting to get a little old. I would appreciate it if you were a tad more careful.” The black haired woman is seeing red. 

The taller of the two girls seems about ready to have some words with Chorong, but the blonde diffuses the situation by putting a hand on her wrist and whispering something her way. In response, the taller girl visibly calms down. After that, she and the two men are led back into the house next to Chorong’s. 

When the door opens, a huge cloud of smoke escapes out into the hallway and Chorong is about to comment on it when the blonde girl speaks. 

“I’m so sorry. We’ll make sure we won’t bother you again.”

Turning on her heels, she goes back inside and closes the door behind her. Chorong is left in the hallway, laughing a breathless and humorless laugh. 

“This is not happening to me.”

As expected, it gets worse. She should be happy that they’ve kept their promise - they did not ring her doorbell again. They did, however, decide it was time to turn the place into a club. 

At almost midnight, Chorong decides there is absolutely no way she is going to be able to sleep. She needs to get out of her apartment. 

The trash cans used to be closer to her building in her last apartment. Now, the walk is a little longer. Just what she needs at the moment. Chorong slowly separates her trash, making sure to recycle every plastic bottle and food container inside the black bag she carried outside. 

Once she’s finished, she notices another text from Naeun. 

Naeun: 
Are you still up? 

Chorong: 
Afraid so. 

Naeun: 
Is it still going? 

Chorong:
Yep…

 
Naeun: 
I’m calling you in 5 minutes.

Pocketing her phone, Chorong walks back into her building only to find a police officer talking to a group of people. Among them, the blonde and the tall girl from earlier. 

“We’re having a housewarming party, officer,” she slurs. 

The man scratches the back of his neck, seemingly enamored by the girl. He tells her to promise they’ll try to keep it down and the girl giggles an “Of course” before the officer bids them a goodnight and the group is off into the building again. 

Chorong sighs, “Men…”

Taking extra slow steps so she doesn’t have to cross paths with the blonde (or her friends) again, Chorong wonders if the girl is her new neighbor and the housewarming party is being thrown for her.

She is quickly exiting the elevator, having arrived at her floor, when she feels her phone buzz in her back pocket. She lets herself into her house before she picks up the phone. 

“So?” Naeun greets. 

“If I told you someone called the cops on them, would you believe me?” 

Naeun squeals. “You didn’t…”

“I didn’t,” Chorong confirms. One thing she’s sure of, the blonde girl next door probably thinks she did. “I’m pretty sure they think it was me, though.”

“Who cares? You probably should’ve called your landlord too, I’m sure he could’ve stopped that by now,” her friend advises over the phone. 

As much as the loud music, the equally annoying yelling and laughing is bothering her, Chorong has no intention of calling her landlord at midnight on a Friday. 

“The police have already been here, they’ll probably cut it out soon enough,” the black-haired girl tries to convince herself.

They both go quiet for a minute before Naeun sighs into the phone. “You know you’re welcome to come over, right?” She reminds her friend. 

“I know,” Chorong smiles. “Thank you, Naeun. Now, get some sleep!”

“You too. Goodnight.”

They hang up. The deafening noise emanating from the apartment next door continues. 

Chorong means to do just what Naeun suggested. After doing the dishes and cleaning up the living room for the night, the black-haired girl makes a beeline for the bathroom. Annoyed as she is, there is absolutely no way Park Chorong is going to sleep without doing her skincare routine. Pissed off? Okay. Pissed off and with ty skin? Never. One must pick their struggles. 

Hair up in a ponytail, Chorong washes, exfoliates and moisturizes her skin before she looks in the mirror and finds that she is satisfied with the result. Then, she flosses and brushes her teeth. Finally, as she is combing through her hair for bed, she hears the doorbell ring. 

“Not this again…” she says through gritted teeth. 

By now, Chorong is in no mood to face that blonde girl yet another time. To her surprise, though, it isn’t the blonde girl that she’s met with when she glimpses through the peephole. 

This time, Chorong is met with a dark-haired girl. Fit, a little mean looking, albeit way too drunk - if judging by the way she’s struggling to keep herself upright. Big mouth, pearly white teeth. Wait a minute… Chorong’s seen this girl before. 

Oh. 

It hits her where she’s seen her before. The woman she’d seen with her landlord a week ago. She’s definitely closer now (which allows Chorong to get a better look at her), and much less sober, but it appears to be the same person. 

“What’s one more drunk girl for the night?” Chorong groans, opening the door to face the intoxicated figure. 

At the sight of the black-haired girl, she startles right away. “Oh, hey… hi,” and then she proceeds to giggle. “My friend Namjoo said we were bothering you earlier, and- and…” unsurprisingly, the girl seems to forget what exactly it is she meant to say. “Sorry,” whether she is apologizing for bothering her or because she forgot what she was saying, Chorong is actually not sure.

“It’s… fine.” That’s a lie, it really isn’t fine. It is, however, nearly 1am on a Friday night and Chorong has worked for the entire week. The only thing that matters to her is going to sleep. 

The faster she sends this girl on her way, the better. 

“Just try to keep it down, will you? I’m meant to be asleep,” she confesses, hoping honesty will somehow get this girl to feel sorry for her. 

“Of course!” The girl almost falls on Chorong but manages to lean on her doorstep instead. “A pretty girl like you definitely needs her beauty sleep,” she winks. 

Stop right there. A pretty- what? 

It’s been a while since someone flirted with her, so Chorong needs to physically avert her gaze from the other girl and take a deep breath to keep herself from blushing. 

As inebriated as she is, the girl seems to notice the effect of her words. She reaches out a shaky hand and introduces herself. “I’m Eunji. I just moved in today.”

“Chorong,” the black-haired girl supplies before shaking the hand Eunji reached out. 

“I should get back,” there’s a little stumbling but eventually the girl manages to detach herself from Chorong’s door and back onto her own two feet. “Goodnight, Chorong.”

The door clicks shut. Chorong has no idea what just happened, exactly. It seemed a lot like her new neighbor was flirting with her, though. Either that, or she was mocking her right to her face. 

“I need to sleep,” Chorong says to herself, as she changes into her pajamas.

As loud as the music and the yelling echoes in Chorong’s living room, her kitchen and even her bathroom, nothing compares to how incredibly blaring the inside of her bedroom is. If it were any other time, Chorong might even joke about how she’s been to quieter clubs. 

One might think if there is a time when Chorong should take advantage of her two bedroom apartment, that time would be now. Originally, when looking for places to rent, she thought it would be nice to have a spare bedroom. Her younger sister could sleep at her place if she ever got tired of the dorms at her college. Inviting Naeun to stay over was also a possibility that had crossed her mind. 

What hadn’t crossed her mind, however, was that she might have to sleep in the guest bedroom because her new neighbor was behaving like a 15-year-old whose parents are out of town for the weekend. 

this Eunji girl. Chorong is not about to leave the comfort of her bedroom. Why should she? It’s her house, her bed, her time to sleep. 

Stubbornly, Chorong gets under the covers and takes a deep breath. She gets comfortable on her right side, back facing the door - as if that will ward away any unwanted guests. 

Closing her eyes, she can literally feel the wall behind her vibrate. Her heart is beating out of her chest, seemingly trying to keep up with the beat of whatever song her neighbors have blasting through their stereo - Chorong presumes they have one, no phone could ever play music this loud.  

The black-haired girl tosses and turns for a while, even sitting up and groaning every now and then. Part of her wonders how much trouble she’ll get herself into if she just takes a hammer and punches it through the wall. Then again, she does not own a hammer. 

Eventually, exhaustion beats her and she manages to fall asleep before the clock strikes 2am. It’s objectively the worst night of sleep Chorong’s had in a while. It makes her wonder if she’s truly even asleep. When the music is turned that bit louder, or simply when someone cackles out of nowhere, Chorong jolts awake - clearly startled by the sound. 

For the very first time in five months, Chorong finds herself missing her old apartment.

It’s a little past 6am when everything goes quiet. For the umpteenth time, the black haired girl jolts awake. Except this time she’s surprised by how quiet everything is. Her first thought is, “I’ve gone deaf.” To ensure that that is not the case, Chorong taps her ears a couple of times. 

She’s fine.

Relief washes in. The noise is gone.

Chorong trusts that, finally, she will be able to rest. She is proven wrong when, about an hour later, she remains in her bed - wide awake. It’s not unlike her to wake up early but 7:21 on a Saturday morning just does not seem fair. The universe hates her. 

A text from Naeun inviting her for breakfast at her house convinces her to give up on getting any rest. Instead, Chorong texts her friend back saying she’ll be there soon. The tiny vindictive part of Chorong’s brain tells her now is as good a time as any to execute her payback plan. She eyes the stereo on her dresser - once, twice - before she remembers the rest of her neighbors (and their kids) and decides against it.

If it were any other Saturday, Chorong would allow herself to be lazy and just stare at her phone for as long as she so wished. Because she’s wide awake, though, she finds it easier to get up - thankfully. Stretching a little, she rubs at her eyes. Then, she opens the curtains and is greeted by the sun. The sky is a little gray, seemingly matching Chorong’s own mood, but the sun is trying its best to shine. Chorong appreciates that. 

Autopilot on, the black-haired girl goes about brushing her teeth before she hops in the shower. The hot water and the steam do very little to actually keep her awake and once she’s finished showering, she half considers canceling on Naeun and going straight back into bed. Chorong knows herself too well not to trust she would be able to actually go back to sleep. 

Instead, she dries her hair and picks out what to wear. 

At 8:15, Chorong grabs her bag and is ready to leave. As she opens the door, she spots her again. The blonde girl. Namjoo, Eunji said was her name. Except this time, she is not alone. But Chorong’s seen this girl too. 

Namjoo has the tall girl pinned to Eunji’s door, kissing her senseless, and the two of them don’t even seem to register that they’re no longer alone in the hallway until Chorong pulls her front door closed. 

The sound of a set of keys jiggling and consequently locking the door seems to do the trick, and Namjoo is so startled she moves her whole body in front of the taller girl, attempting to obscure her from view.

Chorong doesn’t bother commenting. It’s not like it’s shocking for her to see two girls kiss. Although, she will admit, they could’ve picked a better time and place to be doing that. Not that a single person in that house has given Chorong the impression that they give a about what they should or shouldn’t do.

Unsure whether or not the girls are planning on taking the elevator, Chorong makes her way past the girls and over to the stairs. If she has to find herself locked in an enclosed space with that blonde girl, for however long, she does not think she should be held responsible for what may transpire between them.

“Good morning,” Namjoo greets, rather cheery. As if she’s not still covering the brunette behind her. As if Chorong can’t see the other girl, regardless. 

“Maybe for you, it is.”

“Nice touch with the cops, yesterday,” it’s a provocation and Chorong knows as much. She bites her tongue and doesn’t give the blonde the satisfaction of fighting her this early in the morning. 

Opening the door to reveal the stairs, Chorong flips Namjoo off and lets the door shut as hard as possible - hoping she’ll manage to wake up her new neighbors in the process.