Late Night Noise — Satoshi & Vernon
@hgdvernon
Heavily letting out a sigh of relief whilst his steps passed through the doorway, he could feel the exhaustion washing over his body as the long awaited scent of home reached his nostrils. The smell of wooden furniture and scented candles was like a warm cup of tea heating up numb fingers which were just tested by the wintry weather. He hung his coat and kicked off his shoes before a pair of cozy slippers landed on his feet. A soft smile curled up his lips leisurely as he leaned back comfortably on the sofa, straightening his tense legs which hardly withstood the photographer’s caprices piling up with every minute. Peace and silence were all Satoshi could ever ask for when a night after a rough day came.
But it that moment couldn’t last forever. A sudden noise rapidly opened his eyes and gave a single wrinkle between his eyebrows as they furrowed. Hoping for it to stop soon, he grabbed a nearby pillow and wrapped his arms around it but whenever the sound faded out, it was coming back as if the volume was magnified by a tenfold. Groaning under his breath in irritation, another muffled clunk echoed.
Not wasting more time on unsuccessful attempts to block out the surrounding, Satoshi stood up abruptly and stormed through the room. In the corridor it could be heard that the noise’s source was in one of the apartments below. Quick pace brought him downstairs, where the sound still wasn’t intense enough. He soon found himself on the second floor and finally, the music was just by his ear. With his knuckles ruthlessly knocking on the door, he looked down and those fuzzy slippers appeared in his sight. “Really now?” He whispered to himself and rolled his eyes but the thought of them faded into oblivion as soon as the door in front of him cracked open.
Hansol let his head fall on his desk with a groan, allowing his forehead to come into contact with a thud and the possibility of the middle of his forehead to be colored a slight shade of red at the impact. Tonight was just not his nights and so has the previous nights. It was as if this song just did not want to be written and Hansol was losing his patience. He didn’t know what he was missing but something just wasn’t write about his latest self-composition and no matter how many times he changed and rewritten, it just didn’t sound right.
He had lost track the number of nights he had stayed up composing - was it three? four, maybe? Along with balancing his school work during the day, Hansol’s stress level was increasing exponentially and he was on the edge of his mental and physically capacity.
Hansol lifted his head from the desk (and as expected, the middle of his forehead flushed with red for a short while before returning to its natural color) and pressed a key with his finger. The backtrack resumed to blast throughout his residence at such a loud volume that even his soundproof walls failed him tonight at the sound of knocking at his door. Groaning once again, the boy contemplated on whether he should ignore it before suddenly jumping out of his seat to open the door in a hurry because that’s it!
“Look, man - I’m sorry for the noise but do you mind helping me out real quick?” Hansol opened the door for an older male who was probably on the edge of his patience with the younger’s late night shit, but his eagerness and desperation took over his feelings of remorse. “I promise the noise will stop if you help me figure out why my song doesn’t sound right so it’s a win-win situation for the both of us.” His words came out at a fast rate, practically begging the older because Hansol probably wasn’t going to survive more sleepless nights without finally finishing his composition.
