Kyungsoo stares blearily into a pair of large, bright eyes. They stare back, surprised, unblinking. Then, the owner of the eyes jumps back—and it’s a loud, fussy jump because he’s a large, lanky man.

“Sorry!” the man says quickly. Not a bad voice, Kyungsoo thinks. Low and soothing, even while nervous. “I was just—uh—checking on you. And I, I didn’t mean to get so close, er—”

While the man rambles, Kyungsoo takes in the room. It’s washed in shades of sepia, like a nostalgic old photo. Sun streams in from an open window; soft curtains bellow in the breeze; an acoustic guitar stands quietly in a corner. Kyungsoo feels surprisingly relaxed—it helps that the bed is soft—even though he doesn’t know where he is and whom he’s confronting.

It’s particularly strange for Kyungsoo, whose first reaction to strangers is almost always sheer panic. But there’s something about this man, with his guileless eyes and bashfully sincere stuttering...

The door creaks open. Kyungsoo turns and finds Yura standing in the doorway. Her long, flowing skirt and soft brown locks and muted smile all fit in with the gentle schema of the room, and yet Kyungsoo tenses at her presence and bolts up. His sudden movement startles the man, whose face adopts a comical look of shock.

“Kyungsoo-sshi, you’re awake!” Yura exclaims. “We were so worried!”

“Worried...?” As his mind clears, the confusion sets in, and it must show on his face.

“Chanyeol found you collapsed outside your apartment last night,” Yura explains. “He—he’s my brother, by the way—he brought you here and you were dead unconscious. Are you okay? We were so worried but Chanyeol kept saying that you were just asleep.”

“Ah, I’m fine,” Kyungsoo says quietly. His cheeks redden. “I was just asleep. I forgot my keys and dozed off outside. I’m very sorry about the inconvenience.”

“Ah, no worries! I’m just glad you’re okay. I’ll give the landlord a call to tell him to bring around the keys. No, don’t worry, we’ve known for him for awhile now,” Yura says when she sees Kyungsoo about to protest. “In the mean time, why don’t you join us for breakfast?”

Kyungsoo opens his mouth to decline. In his peripheral vision, he catches sight of the tall young man staring at him in anticipation. Yura, too, looks expectant.

Refutation no longer seems a possibility.

***

Grandma Park reminds Kyungsoo of his own grandmother before she aged into infirmity. Or more specifically, before Parkinson’s disease got the better of her and caused her to degenerate from a self-possessed lady into a hunched and sad invalid. Kyungsoo tries to avoid contact with old people, because he knows what’s coming and doesn’t want to witness it.

But it’s hard to think of Grandma Park in any form other than her current one, bustling about in her floral apron, doling out sunny side up eggs to Yura and Chanyeol and two for her special guest Kyungsoo.

“Young people these days need to eat more,” she says in a joking reprimand. “None of this funny diet business—you don’t diet, do you, Kyungsoo?”

Kyungsoo smiles awkwardly and shakes his head no. To his side, Chanyeol groans. “Grandma, you’re making him uncomfortable.”

“Don’t mind her,” Yura adds. “Just eat what you want and leave the rest.”

“No, everything looks great,” Kyungsoo stammers. “Thank you so much for inviting me to breakfast. I’m sorry to have imposed—”

Grandma Park waves away his apology and motions for him to eat. “We’re not so formal around here. Anyway, we were hoping to get to know you better—you seem like such a nice young man!”

Kyungsoo feels himself reddening so he preemptively buries himself into his bowl of rice, hoping to escape scrutiny. He had never been good at small talk.

The rice, on the other hand, is delicious—fresh, steaming hot, fluffy. It’s been awhile since he’s had rice and even longer since he’s had a breakfast full of traditional Korean dishes. There’s egg and fish and pickled vegetables and bean sprouts—all his favorites. It reminds him of home.

The table talk reminds him of home too, the atmosphere of easy banter between family. He hadn’t even realized that he missed it, but then, it’s been awhile since he’s had company for a home-cooked meal.

Chanyeol and Yura, as if trying to make him feel more comfortable, resort to playing cat and mouse with each other and bicker as siblings do. Grandma Park cuts in occasionally with a question or two: What do you do for a living, Kyungsoo? Lawyer? That’s impressive! And you went to XX University? Aigo, your parents raised you well. Now these grand children of mine—

“Grandma,” Chanyeol whines. “Stop trying to guilt trip us! And can I have more rice please?” But he winks conspiratorially at Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo is grateful to have Grandma Park’s attention diverted. He smiles his thanks hesitantly and is surprised to see the giant of a man duck his head in embarrassment. Across from them, Yura snickers. Kyungsoo doesn’t feel comfortable enough to ask why.

***

“I’m really sorry for the trouble,” Kyungsoo repeats.

It’s just him and Chanyeol now, the landlord having just left while shaking his head at how irresponsible all these partying youngsters are.

Chanyeol sweeps his bangs out of his eyes. Kyungsoo thinks off-handedly that Chanyeol is actually strikingly handsome. Fashionable too. And a surprisingly nice person.

“It wasn’t any trouble at all. And if you ever need help, um...I could give you my number? Since we’re neighbors, you know.”

“Oh...” Kyungsoo doesn’t like exchanging numbers with people. Jongdae and Baekhyun used to laugh at how conservative he was with his phone—how are you going to get a girl, Soo? But he looks at Chanyeol’s earnest face and figures it can’t hurt. “Sure.”

Chanyeol’s face lights up. “Great! And you know, you’re always welcome to come over for dinner. I’m sure Grandma would love that. She really likes you, you know!”

Kyungsoo gives his customary, awkward smile and says formally, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you again.”

***

His own apartment feels empty and cluttered all at once. The walls are painted a chic, modern white, but in comparison to the Park’s warm-toned abode, the white walls feel clinically cold. Boxes are strewn haphazardly about, only half-unpacked. With a tired groan, Kyungsoo throws himself on the mattress and covers his eyes with his arms.

His phone buzzes. He takes a peek at the lines of text—Kyungsoo, sorry about last night! Let’s hang out again this week, just the two of us—and puts the phone away face down. Last night begins to flood his brain. He wonders how much he resembled a deer-caught-in-headlights in that club. He wonders if Taeyeon laughed at him. He wonders if Baekhyun laughed with her. His stomach churns at the thought.

His phone buzzes a second time. He doesn’t want to look, but some inner masochism compels him. The text surprises him.

Hi, it’s Chanyeol! It was great meeting you today. I hope we can hang out more often. I’m so glad we’re neighbors! Let me know if you need anything.

Kyungsoo reads it twice. He hadn't expected to receive a text so soon. In fact, he hadn't expected to receive anything at all. He thought Chanyeol had just offered to help out of politeness, as people do these days. But they never mean it.

Then again, Chanyeol doesn't seem like that type of person, though Kyungsoo has long learned to guard against that particular sentiment. People never turn out to be what they seem. But he he does momentarily stops thinking about Baekhyun to think instead about the Parks. About how different they appeared from his friends and colleagues—they weren’t young loners trying to make it in the big city. They already had each other, the three of them, and that somehow made them more stable, more established.

Kyungsoo likes the thought that they were right below his floor boards, running their little bookshop, eating home cooked meals, bickering and bantering with each other. He briefly allows himself to imagine a future in which he’s able to meld into their unit, where he’s no longer an awkward outsider at their dining table but an actual friend.

He feels briefly more at peace. He finds that maybe he does have the energy to get to his feet and to finally start his tasks of the day. He's already behind. 

***

A/N: Thanks for reading! FYI, I don't really have a plot in mind...lolol. It's just going where it's going, I guess...