OH MY GOD, THEY WERE *ROOMMATES.
Not quite, but almost there. The closest thing Taemin is ever having to roommates is, in his case, neighbors. All under the same roof but each separated by the sanctity of their own apartments. Some days it doesn’t feel like it’s distance enough when, even from across the hall, Taemin can hear the unmistakable sound of a party blasting through the walls. Other days he knows he is the one being the annoying neighbor when he only makes time to practice saxophone at ass o’clock in the morning.
Well, thankfully Taemin lives a very pathetic life: no dates, no funny business, no pets, no delays on his rent, the only thing his poor young man has going on for himself is that god awful saxophone, so please just let him be, his existence is sad enough as it is - words of the landlord himself.
So the closest thing he’s ever having of a roommate is Junhoe, his neighbor one door to the side. They talk sometimes. Some nights that were this close of turning into days, Taemin drags himself down the hall, mouth tasting like cork and plastic, fingers hurting, throat dry and head pleasantly dizzy from a little alcohol, he finds Junhoe in the halls too. Two zombies in the crack of dawn. More often than not, Taemin bypasses the need of a shower and jumps straight to falling face first on his bed, still smelling like cigarettes and booze from a shift at the jazz club - a musician’s cologne.
Taemin has one earphone on, sitting on the one old vinyl chair they had on the building laundry basement, legs crossed and foot moving in the rhythm of the music making his Nike slipper slap against the sole of his foot. While he was waiting for his batch of whites to finish drying cycle, Taemin had a basket of other washed clothes on his lap, trying to fold his shirts as best as possible.
And then.
This weird underwear appeared. Something he’s never seen before and that certainly wasn’t his. It was an alien underwear, right in his basket, fraternizing with the much more functional and normal-looking underwear he actually owned. He proceeded to do what the thought was the right choice, leaving the underwear on top of one of the machines with a little note.
This is not mine. But I washed it anyway. Taemin Lee, 201.
And after that, all he had to do was go on with his life in hopes that the stray underwear would find it’s way back to its owner. It’s not like he was expecting a Thank You, it was just underwear after all.
x with @247junhoe x at banjeom apartments
