So it's been a while! Thanks for all your support guys xD (200+ subs!) that's more than i thought i would get when i started out...

anyways, so it's been a year since I've started this fic, and I seriously wanted to edit it.

of course, if you really liked the original, and you're the type of person who doesn't like to reread a story (that's kind of like me honestly), then don't read on!
anyways, i said i would do it, and here it is! Chapter one! Edited! and this time, paragraphs instead of lines! woohoo!

Please tell me your thoughts and whether you'd like to see this continued.
 

He was woken by the shrill notes of his alarm ringing through the vacancy.

Do Kyungsoo flinched slightly, his breath caught in his throat as he arched his back on the heated mattress. His hand slipped out from beneath the heavy covers to rub his eyes roughly, his finger brushing lightly past the bristles of his eyebrows. The sharp intake of air he took had the odor of musky bookshelves and winter mornings, the usual scent of his cramped apartment tucked away at the end of the seventh floor. With a large sigh, his eyelids parted open, revealing the cracked ceiling, barely visible in the dark room. Kyungsoo reached over his bedside, turning his attention, finally, to the unrelenting pelt of staccato beeps of his alarm clock. He dismissed it.

The young man threw off his bed sheets, blinking repeatedly as he sat up abruptly, running a stray hand through the tangles of his red-brown hair. The blinking numbers of the clock told him 8:01AM, as it usually did in the morning. Kyungsoo swung both legs off the bed, his bare toes skimming the cold wooden planks, before rising onto his feet. His small bedroom was not something he was particularly proud of; being that it was furnished with only what he considered the bare minimum. Kyungsoo was standing in a square room, a tad larger than a typical kitchen. If he squinted his eyes, he could just make out the vague outline of his familiar desk, a simple two by five feet in the corner, where his black sketchbook laid on the edge with a sharpened pencil coupled next to it. The only source of light was currently peeking through the slits of the shades on his window, creating a thin line of rich brown wood horizontally across his bedroom floor.

Kyungsoo’s fingers clutched the two objects on his desk, and he trudged towards the window. Holding his breath, he reached for the rope hanging off to the side, giving it a harsh tug that sent the shades scrambling up in a rustle of plastic against plastic. In that very moment, Kyungsoo was blinded by the brilliant sunlight flooding the room, chasing away inklings of darkness and illuminating the specks of dust drifting absentmindedly through the air. He propped a foot up against the window sill, fingers gripped tightly, and pulled the window up with the ease of an action that was repeated regularly.

The gust of wind that fled from the opening fluttered his hair and sent a slight chill over his skin. His lips smiled at this, pleased with the thrill of the outside, a prospect he was always limiting himself from.

Ducking his head under and stepping out, Kyungsoo emerged onto the faded red bars of his fire escape, a place he held closer to his heart than anywhere else. His eyes seemed to gleam brighter, reminisce of a grin he was just barely able to suppress. The early morning bustle of city dwellers sounded surprisingly distant from his home on the seventh floor, a background noise that played somewhere in the back of his mind, ever present as he situated himself close to the corner and  flipped open his book to a fresh page. The unnoticed presence watched the hurry of humans dashing across streetlights, sauntering up and down the block, and tapping the pedal behind wheels peacefully, as if it was simply an image, one too far away for it to seem tangible. That was how Kyungsoo personally enjoyed it.

His first lines when the tip of graphite pressed the page in a kiss were beginning to resemble that of a confident man striding across the street, chest puffed out and mouth grinning, while he gripped a sleek briefcase. Kyungsoo imagined his sketched character as an outgoing ladies’ man, suave and ever sure of his decisions. He paused momentarily, considering the addition of a woman by his side, his pencil perched above the beginnings of a face next to the previous man on the white surface. No, he thought. It wouldn’t do any good. He turned the pencil to erase the marks, but his fingers fumbled, causing the pencil to roll off and drop through the gap between the fire escape bars. A panicked gasp was heard as Kyungsoo jumped to his feet, but thankfully, the pencil fell onto the platform of the sixth floor, stopping just several feet from the stairway. Kyungsoo exhaled in relief.

He took note of his options, either Kyungsoo could go downstairs to retrieve the fallen pencil or sharpen a new one back in his apartment. The former would breach his boundaries, of course, so Kyungsoo was about to return through the window once more, when the sound of a dull thump followed by a muffled sound of pain reached his ears.

It seemed so close. The cry of a stranger, just mere feet below him. Kyungsoo was surprised for a second, unaccustomed to the presence of others so near him. His step back into his apartment faltered. Curiosity seemed to prompt him further. Kyungsoo found himself on the first step of the descent into the lurking wonders of the sixth floor. A release of strings of curse words seemed to call him away again from his usual comfort zone, the unfamiliar noises sending him zings of excitement. Yet, uneasiness clouded the thrill of entering unknown territories. It was always a hindrance, this unreasonable fear that made Kyungsoo want to retreat back into the safety of routine, away from people and situations never encountered before. It was a difficult decision, and though Kyungsoo had always wished secretly that he could be someone other than the hunched, quiet persona in the back of the room, it was this uncertainty that stopped him, telling him that he wasn’t ready to face what lied ahead.

Yet, this time, Kyungsoo was filled with yearning, b to the point where he knew he had it in himself to do what he had never done. Grasping at the hints of courage somewhere deep inside, he found himself descending deeper into the world of the unexplained sounds.

Kyungsoo’s first glance into Jongin’s apartment was that of shy fleetingness. A quick peek was what he had called it. He bent down to pick up the forgotten pencil on the floor, before returning his gaze towards the window, aware that he was very much invading the privacy of his neighbor. Yet, he felt a peculiar attraction, and Kyungsoo inched forward on silent feet, trying his best to remain as inconspicuous as he possibly could.

A slim tall man was crouched on the floor in the apartment, rummaging through the contents of a cardboard box, one of many surrounding the figure. Kyungsoo realized in silence that the stranger was moving in, as the man finished removing the stacks of clothing from the box and placing them into the closet. The thud Kyungsoo had heard before was most likely the accidental drop of a box. The young man continued on, a bright smile spread across his full lips, as he tossed aside the empty box and ripped open another one next to him. A few minutes into the job, he turned up a stereo, and Kyungsoo could hear the catchy tune dropping beats through the thick window pane. The man moved onto the third box, his fingers deftly pulling out silverware and china. His smooth arm movements were accompanied by the slow swaying of his hips, in time with the rhythms sprouting from the speakers. Swaying gradually transformed into full-out dancing across the floor, feet hopping and arms popping. Kyungsoo leaned forward in fascination, transfixed by the man and his shining eyes on the sixth floor.

Fifteen minutes passed by easily, two more slipping away soon after. Kyungsoo broke his long stare into the window of the handsome stranger, registering the occurrences and blushing fully in response. The drone of pop music suddenly stopped, along with Kyungsoo’s heart, and he scurried back upstairs without a single thought or look back. As he stood, back in front of his apartment, wind tumbling through his locks of hair, the full realization of what exactly occurred seemed to hit him full force as his fingers trembled to scoop up the sketchbook. He reentered his apartment swiftly, shutting the window behind him.

Finally, he closed his eyes in silent relief, slumping to the floor as he wrapped his arms tightly around himself, rocking gently to the ticks of the clock on his bedside. His heartbeat slowed, returning to a relaxed pace. Kyungsoo leaned back against the wall, imprints of the dancing man still lingering behind his closed lids.

Even though he had placed the book and pencil back on his desk and returned to his daily schedule, he could not remove the memories of the incident from before. As he pulled up a stool to reach into the upper cabinets above the kitchen counter for instant ramen, Kyungsoo was beginning to realize what he had seen was impossible to take his mind off of, but honestly, that wasn’t as bad as it sounded.

Kim Jongin frowned in dismay at the scarcity of ornamentation in his new apartment. He wasn’t used to the small living accommodations, but anywhere was better than home. Last week, a particularly messy clash had broken out between his parents and him, and while he had been fired up in the fierce argument, Jongin yelled that he was just going to move out, away from his troubled life to live one where he could actively pursue his dreams. Though it had been quite rash of him, Jongin decided it had been inevitable, considering the conditions of his relationship with his demanding parents.

Over the course of the past few days, Jongin had ordered a bed and other necessities using his college savings account after he dropped out that month. He had finally finished unpacking the boxes that morning, and he sighed contently, bouncing onto the springy mattress with his arms spread wide. It would take some getting used to, Jongin admitted, but he was prepared to take on whatever obstacles that stood in his way. He had already called up his friend, Byun Baekhyun, who had connections with the manager back at Step Studios, and landed himself a worthy occupation as a dance choreographer.  The man had hired him on the spot after a brief and informal audition, which surprised Jongin, but pleased him nonetheless.

He rolled over onto his side, peering up at the clock on the wall. It was late afternoon already, and Jongin’s stomach called his attention with the low rumblings of hunger. He quelled it with ordered pizza.

Hours later, Jongin was sprawled across the bed, drowsily surfing the internet on his laptop as the night settled into a still silence, seeming to extend into nothingness. He gazed out the window, and he could see his reflection on the glass. The city outside was pitch black, and Jongin was unable to see anything other than himself. A flicker of pink caught his eye, and his line of view fixed upon a square piece of paper stuck on the other side of the window pane.

That was definitely not there this morning, Jongin’s eyebrows pinched together.

He stared at the pink post-it a little longer, placed perfectly in the center, parallel to the walls and the floor of his apartment.

On hesitant footsteps, Jongin made his way towards the window and pulled up the window, producing a screech louder than he expected. He extended one arm into the cold winter atmosphere, pursing his lips with curiousity as he pulled off the post it quickly. He pushed the window back down, crawling onto the bed, still holding the post-it and reading the tiny lines of words scrawled neatly on it.

            To the man who lives on the sixth floor:

Hello… My name is Do Kyungsoo. I live on the seventh floor. I kind of have a question for you. Well, two actually. First, if I may ask, what was the song that you were dancing to last night? My second question is a bit personal... but I guess I’ll be brave this time. I was wondering, what’s your name?

Kyungsoo found a pleasant smile creeping across his features as he heard the window downstairs being pried open. He rested his head back on the window and crossed his legs on the fire escape, listening to the mysterious sixth floor man closing the window shortly after. He felt the effects of adrenaline coursing through his body, his palms sweaty as they rested in his lap. Kyungsoo knew he was physically incapable of taking the incentive and approaching his neighbor that had captured his thoughts with only a few minutes of observation.

Therefore, he had been hoping to try something more indirect, perhaps, if he was even brave enough to attempt anything at all. Kyungsoo had been only toying with the thought, after all, and the reasonable side of his personality scoffed at the idea that he was ever going to interact with the person in interest. But when the sixth floor stranger wouldn’t leave the premises of his consciousness, Kyungsoo found himself reaching for a pink post-it to write what he desperately wanted to ask. To be honest, Kyungsoo was not planning to reveal it to the intended receiver. But he more he stared at the slip of pink, the more he felt compelled towards sending it in some way. That was how Kyungsoo ended up attaching the pink post-it on his window.

Kyungsoo was unsure of what his actions were leading to, but there was only one thing he had on mind.

To discover more about the man who lived on the sixth floor.