High Between Floors - m.list
➳❥ Synopsis: you just moved into a new apartment, ready to reinvent your life. Until... your upstairs neighbor loud, reckless, and impossible to ignore. Makes you realize some things can't be fixed. only felt.
❤︎ Pairing: dealer!jk x female!reader
❤︎ Chapter Warnings: explicit language, drug use
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You can tell there's just a lot on your mind right now, and you need to let it all out. You grab your phone and check on the time, and it was already 1:52am. You really debate if you should call Lyric because she could be sleeping, you end up calling her anyway. She picks up after the second ring.
“Hey Lyric! Are you awake right now?
Lyric: “Duh if I’m talking to you.” she says while chuckling. “What's up? How's the new apartment?”
“Uhh, everything's fine” you say unsurely
Lyric: “You sure y/n?” she says suspiciously
“Actually, no. I need to catch you up on everything. First of all, you remember that guy who we got into an argument with?”
Lyric: “Omg yes! What happened?”
“Tell me why this guy is actually my UPSTAIRS NEIGHBOR.”
Lyric: “YOU’RE FUCKING LYING! Y/N hang up, we need to do a FaceTime call like asap.”
You immediately hang up and jump out of bed. You head over to your kitchen and turn on the light because it has the best lighting. You lean your phone against the vase your mom gifted you earlier and call Lyric back, and she answers almost immediately.
Lyric: “Y/N tell me everything that happened, don't leave out ANY details.”
And that's exactly what you did, you told her every interaction you guys had. You even acted out the trash bag incident, so she knows what you went through.
Lyric: “Girl… why didn't you tell him your name?”
“Uhh because why would I after everything he's done to me. MIND YOU, I have only lived here for four days.” you say while giving her that look. “I think the real question you should be asking is why he gave me his name Lyric.”
Lyric: “Because it's obvious he thinks you're cute, otherwise he wouldn't have hit on you AND open his door shirtless” she answers.
“Well, I don't think he was expecting me to be at his door, plus it looked like he just got out of the shower.”
Lyric: “Well, did he at least look fine tho?”
You honestly froze in your place when she asked you that question, and you know that she could already read your expression.
“Umm… yes?” you say, even questioning your answer.
Lyric: “So you agree with me, and you think he's fine?” she says in the same tone as you.
Lyric: “But you just said yes…?” At this point, she's interrogating you.
“You know what, Lyric, I have school and work tomorrow, and look at the time. I gotta go bye love you!” You manage to say really fast and hang up the phone, and head straight to bed.
You had barely been asleep for what felt like an hour when there was a knock at your door.
You groaned and looked at your phone. It's 8:34 am.
You make your way to your door slowly but surely and open it to find two delivery guys standing in the hallway.
“Couch delivery for Y/N?”
You blinked. “Yes, that's me.”
You moved to the side and might as well make yourself a cup of coffee while watching them move your couch through your front door. It took maybe ten minutes. They then set it up, got your signature and left.
You stood there looking at your perfect black velvet couch. You went and lay down on it immediately. It was very comfortable. A little too comfortable. You were falling asleep but then remembered you have school and work.
Class was fine. You sat through two long-ass lectures, participated when you had to, and spent the rest of the time pretending to take notes while your mind was thinking about everything but class. Work was exhausting, it was very busy today, you can't remember how many phone calls you took today because it was that busy. You filed a huge stack of case files that needed to be processed. You clocked out at six feeling like not coming back for the rest of the week. But you know you need the money, and work is not easy.
On your way home, you decide to stop at the corner store. You're not looking for anything specific, just the kind of stop you make to get some random stuff. You grabbed a gatorade, a bowl of instant noodles, some chips, and why not something sweet.
The walk back to your complex was quiet. You had your bag over one shoulder and your corner store bag in your other hand, airpods in, ready to relax for the night.
You push through the front door of the complex with your bag. You take one step towards the stairs and stop.
There's someone slumped against the bottom of the staircase, head drooping, back against the wall, barely able to keep himself upright.
You stumble back alarmed, pulling out one of your airpods. You look closer.
It's Jungkook. Looking like his body gave up right there on the stairs.
His head lifts slightly. Eyes barely open.
You really don't know what to do and blame the universe for putting you in this situation because what. the. fuck.
You had to think fast and you slowly moved past him. He was definitely trying to keep his eyes open, but sadly the only view he saw was you making your way upstairs.
The immediate guilt you felt was gut wrenching. You make your way into your apartment, set your bags down and think if you should help this guy. You think about the pros and cons of this situation. What's really the worst that could happen? you think to yourself.
You walk out of your apartment and make your way down the stairs to see him still slumped over, looking almost lifeless.
“'ts fine... jus’ lemme..” All you can hear is mumbling coming from his mouth.
“Can you stand?” you ask him
“m straight...mmm-kay... jus' gotta” he answers.
He tried to stand, but he immediately slid sideways towards the wall. He's conscious, but his body just won't cooperate. It's like he's fighting to stay present but losing.
“Ok, I'm going to help you, but I need you to work with me okay?” you say firmly keeping eye contact with whatever part of him is still on earth with us.
The easiest way to tackle getting this 160 pound man to his apartment is to grab his arm and put it around your shoulder taking it one step at a time. He grabs your waist to balance himself which takes you by surprise but if that's the only way to get him up the stairs, then so be it.
But you wish it was that easy. Jungkook just keeps missing steps, falling, and mumbling whatever. After many minutes, you reach your floor and ask him.
“Where are your keys, Jungkook?”
“Nnn-f'get... onna... onna thing..." he mumbles.
“Are you fucking serious?” You say, struggling to keep him and yourself up. “Okay. fuck it because I can't make it up another flight of stairs with you.”
You unlock your door and drag him along one step at a time. You place him on your new coach as carefully as you can.
He's out of it completely.
You stand there for a minute just looking at him, trying to process what you just did. Now he's here on your new couch that you didn't even get to enjoy and he's probably drunk, or just crazy.
“Jungkook. Where. are. your. Keys?” you ask him while repeatedly tapping his shoulder.
But all you hear are light groans.
You go to your kitchen to grab a glass of water and come back and crouch down in front of him.
“Drink some of this.” you say firmly.
You bring the glass to his lips and tilt it slowly and carefully. He drinks a little. You set the glass on the coffee table and grab the small trash can from your bathroom. Just in case.
You stand and look at him one more time. Questioning your decisions. Why would you help him after he disrespected you? Why would you bring this man inside your apartment? Just why why why?
You hear your stomach grumble, interrupting your deep thoughts and questions. You remember you didn't really have anything to eat today. You go back to your kitchen, pull out your instant noodles from the corner store and boil some water. You're not going to let this man mess up your dinner. You eat your noodles standing at the kitchen counter, just watching him.
All he's doing is sleeping. His breathing is so slow, and the fabric of his shirt barely moves. His neck resting over the couch leaving his adam's apple very visible. Some strands of his black fluffy hair stick to his forehead due to his sweating.
You don't even know what's really going on with him, but he just looks so attractive like this.
You snap yourself out of this trance, remembering how he talked to you and Lyric.
Then again, he did say sorry though…
Nope. A sorry doesn’t cover it.
You finish your food, wash your bowl, grab your phone, and walk towards your room.
But you stop and look at him, his breathing so slow you have to watch his ribs to make sure he’s still alive, but you can't tell. Your heart skips a beat because you fear that he's actually not okay. You walk towards him and place your finger under his nose. Thankfully, you feel a faint warm breath against your finger.
You feel a sense of relief and head towards your room.
That's when you feel something.
A weak grip around your wrist.
Jungkook's eyes are barely open, but they are looking at you. Really looking at you. Like whatever part of him that's still present is using everything it has just to hold on.
That's it. One word. Barely a whisper, but you heard him clearly.
“Oh, umm. Okay…” you say, caught off guard by his grip.
You move slowly and sit next to him leaving enough space between you two. He's still holding on to your wrist very weakly, but still feels secure. You look down at his hand, decorated with silver rings and tattoos. His veins are very visible and travel up his tattooed arm. You study his tattoos, he has snakes, microphones, clocks, and chains. The typical tattoos men get. But this one quote on his arm catches your eye. “Rather be dead than be cool.” It makes you think. He's using dark humor as a coping strategy, someone who jokes about death has usually thought about it more than others. You don't know whether to thank or blame your brain for analyzing him like this.
Your eyes then travel up to his sharp jawline and dry but plump lips with a lip piercing. His long eyelashes flutter ever so slightly. He has an eyebrow piercing that fits him so well. Fuck. This guy is gorgeous.
As much as you just want to look at Jungkook’s features. You just can't stay here, you don't know what he's capable of even in this state. Trying not to wake him up, you release his grip on your wrist and replace it with a pillow. You get up and write him a note for when he wakes up.
“Drink the water. Don't throw up on my couch.” you write.
You go to your room and lock the door. Letting out a deep breath. You want to dwell on everything today, but you just know it's going to be a loophole you can never get out of. You take a much needed shower and head to bed.
I wake up choking on my own breath. My eyes open, and I sit up, I sit up a little too fast because my head immediately reminds me that I am not okay. My head fucking hurts. I press my palm flat against my forehead and wait for the room to stop spinning.
I look around. This is not my apartment…
The walls are wrong, the smell is wrong. Everything is a little too clean and organized. Fuck. I have absolutely no idea how I got here.
I sat there for a while just trying to remember everything from last night.
I remember selling most of my inventory. A bunch of weed, some molly, and xanax…
Shit. I probably had a little too much, especially mixed with everything else from earlier, which was probably not my smartest moment. I quickly check my pockets. Thank god, all the money is there, my phone, and keys.
I barely remember the walk home. But…
Someone on the stairs. Leaving then coming back. Asking me if I can stand and where my keys were.
I look down at the coffee table to see a glass of water, a bucket, and a note.
“Drink the water. Don't throw up on my couch.”
I chuckled before drinking the glass of water.
I found a pen on her kitchen counter and wrote her a little something.
Why not shoot my shot again? I stand up, unlock her front door, and head to my apartment.
You wake up to your very loud alarm, you snooze it immediately, and lay there for a second staring at the ceiling, remembering that he's on your couch. Your door is still locked, you come out cautiously, but your couch is empty.
The glass of water is empty, and the bucket looks untouched. You noticed he straightened the couch cushions and pillows before he left. You got to sit on your couch but feel an immediate dip.
This guy made a dent in your new couch.
You are about to crash out, but you only have yourself to blame because you did help him when you didn't have to. You take a deep breath and try to tell yourself everything's ok. But something catches your eye.
That's it. No, thank you. No explanation. Just his instagram.
You stare at the note. You're not doing this with him. You have class and work today.
You get ready for the day, make a light breakfast, and head out the door.
Class was actually very chill, your instructor gave one lecture and let you guys out early. You take a calm walk before work, which was also a calm day, just answering phone calls and setting up appointments.
You decide to walk home today, the weather was perfect. You put in your airpods and think about Jungkook on your way home. You wonder if he even remembers you helping him or if he's okay. He was probably really wasted, but why would he leave you his Instagram? This is clearly bait, and you're not going to fall for it.
You make it to your apartment ready to watch a movie and keep the calmness you've already had today. As soon as you set down your keys and take off your shoes. You hear a knock at the door,
You're not expecting anyone, but you answer the door anyway.
He's just standing there. Unbothered, like last night didn't happen.
“Hey.” he says, keeping his hands in his pocket. He looks way better than last night.
“You never told me your name.”
Ugh. No, thank you, no asking about last night, just what’s your name? This guy can't be fucking serious. So you decide to clap back with his words.
“You could at least say thank you first.”
“Thank you. Now what's your name?” he says while leaning against your door frame.
“Y/N” you don't know what came over you and why you said it. But you did, and there's no turning back now.
“What actually happened to you last night?” you say bluntly.
“I hadn't eaten all day. Passed out.”
His answer could be true, but it doesn't add up or make sense by the way he was acting last night.
“Why did you leave me your instagram?” you question him.
“Just because.” he says while playing with his lip ring.
He then just walks away back upstairs, without saying anything else. Leaving you standing there.
He knows what he's doing, and the worst part is so do you.
You close the door feeling this intense heat on your face and chest. You stand there for a second just staring at nothing.
Okay. what just happened?
You grab your phone off the counter and call Lyric before you even fully process everything.
She already knows something is wrong just by your tone.
“Okay. So you remember my upstairs neighbor?”
“Oh the disrespectful one? The one YOU said was fine. Yeah, of course I remember.”
“I found him passed out on the stairs last night. I brought him inside, put him on my couch where he spent the night. He was gone by morning but left a sticky note with his instagram.” you say quickly but clearly.
“YOU WHAT?” she screams a little too loud in your ear. “Y/N. You brought a stranger into your apartment.” Her voice is very serious now.
“Mind you. The same stranger who called us some hoes.”
“Then he left you his instagram and walked away like that was normal?”
“Lyric, you didn't even let me finish. THEN he came to my door just now.”
“I'M SORRY WHAT?” You can already tell she's stunned. “Send me the @ y/n. We are looking him up right now.”
You send her the @ and wait. You hear her typing fast on the other end.
“Fuck. He looks even finer on instagram.”
You fall onto your couch, open instagram and stalk his page.
He has 12 posts and 1009 followers. He doesn't post much, only low quality photos and pictures of the night sky. A few mirror selfies, never fully smiling, just that same unbothered look he gives everyone. His bio only says Baltimore.
His comments are filled with a mix of girls being down bad and people with private accounts. You scroll back up and just look at this profile picture for a second.
He's not even looking at the camera, but that sharp jawline is enough to make you smirk.
“Lyric, I’ll call you tomorrow."
“You're stalking his page right now aren't you?”
“Goodnight Lyric love you.” you say, deflecting while ending the call.
You turn off your phone and put it face down on your chest.
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Note: yay! chapter 3. I’ve been really busy while i was writing this chapter so I am sorry if it’s not my best work. I gonna try to finish and post chapter 4 this week. 💜
taglist: @nikkinikj @bb3armira @evtrack @jeonggukbaes @idkwhattfimdoinghere2 @bjoriis @bammbi-jeon127 @mysteris-things @yukisroom97
