1201
noh woo-sung x f!reader
synopsis: you've gotten used to the loud noises throughout the apartment complex, but a neighbor accuses you of being the cause of it.
warnings: mutual attraction
notes: watch wall to wall on netflix
warm amber light from your wall plug-in spills across the bathroom tiles as you step out of the shower. the steam curls around you and its soft.
a faint scent of your vanilla body wash carriers, it is soothing despite the faint thuds echoing through the walls of your apartment.
apartment 1201.
you wrap your olive green fluffy towel tightly around yourself, securing it under your arms. for a moment, the apartment feels still, a rare pause in the relentless noises that have plagued you since moving in nearly a year ago.
stomping, barking, yelling.
it’s been a constant and irritable noise. to you, its almost like a shellshock seeping through the walls and ceiling at unpredictable hours.
at first, it infuriated you, each sound a jab at your patience, but breaking the lease wasn’t an option.
you’ve learned to cope, thanks in part to eun-hwa, the kind neighbor in 1701 who always listens when you need to vent, her warm smile and money always gave you a temporary calm.
little do you know, she’s the source of it all.
tonight, the noises are mostly stomping, loud and in rhythm.
it sounds like someone pacing heavily above you.
sometimes, it feels like the sounds come from below too. however, you shake it off assuming it’s just another night in this cursed complex.
as you step into the foyer of your apartment, water still dripping from your hair, the doorbell chimes.
you pause, frowning.
it’s late, 11pm.
thinking about the time, you assume that it is probably your friend from the restaurant, swinging by with leftovers as she sometimes does after her shift.
you don’t bother checking the doorbell screen, too tired to think twice. you shuffle to the door, clutching your towel.
you swing the door open, expecting a familiar face. instead, a stranger stands there...a guy, tall and slightly disheveled, with dark hair falling messily over his forehead.
you jump, heart lurching as you instinctively tug the towel tighter, suddenly hyper-aware of your bare legs and damp shoulders.
“oh!” you gasp, stepping back.
the guy raises his hands quickly, palms out, his expression apologetic but tinged with something else.
nervousness, maybe?
“sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, his voice low and a little rough, like he hasn’t slept in days. the guy's eyes flicker over you briefly before darting away, focusing on the doorframe as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
“can I help you?” you ask, confusion lacing your tone.
you study him, noting the worn ‘peach state’ t-shirt clinging to his broad shoulders and the faint shadows under his eyes. he’s attractive, undeniably so, with sharp cheekbones and a nose contour that highlights with the hallway light.
something inside of your mind notes his rumpled clothes and tired posture, it suggests that he’s been through it lately.
the guy shifts his weight, glancing around the hallway like he’s expecting someone...or something...else.
“hi there,” he starts, almost hesitant, “I live two floors above you, 1401. name’s woo-sung.” he pauses, as if waiting for a reaction, but you just raise your eyebrows, curious but guarded.
“ok…?” you say, letting the word hang, a mix of intrigue and impatience.
you’re still dripping water onto the floor, and the towel feels like it’s one wrong move from slipping.
he holds up a few orange sticky notes, their edges curling slightly.
“our neighbor upstairs, 1301, keeps complaining about noise,” he explains, tilting the notes so you can see the scrawled handwriting.
from where you stand, you catch phrases like “please keep it down” and “8th grade and a sensitive senior?” written in sharp, frustrated strokes.
you lean against the doorframe, careful to keep a firm grip on your towel, and tilt your head.
“what’s the point?” you ask, cutting through his hesitation.
woo-sung's eyes snap back to you. for a moment, they linger...not on your face, but on the water droplets sliding down your collarbone, the way the towel hugs your frame.
he catches himself, shaking his head slightly.
“sorry, I’m making this complicated,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, “the thing is, if you’ve got alarms going off at night, or a dog, or… I don’t know, moving furniture? it’s been loud. like, really loud. especially at night when people are trying to sleep.”
woo-sung's words tumble out, a mix of frustration and awkwardness, like he’s not used to confronting neighbors like this.
you cross your arms, the movement pulling the towel tighter as you scoff at the accusation.
“you think I’m the one making noise?” you say, voice with disbelief, “I’ve been dealing with this crap for a year...stomping, barking, yelling, you name it. it’s not me. it’s coming from above like its you!”
you glance down at his shirt again, feeling guilty for the snap.
woo-sun's face softens, but there’s a flicker of surprise in his dark eyes, like he didn’t expect you to push back.
“look, I feel… immodest standing here like this,” you say, gesturing vaguely at your towel-clad self, your tone carrying a hint of irritation, “do you want to come in? I’ll change, and we can talk about this properly. sit on the couch, I’ll be quick.”
your voice is clipped, but there’s an undercurrent of curiosity...you want to know more about this guy, even if he’s accusing you of things you didn’t do.
woo-sung hesitates, then nods.
“yeah, okay. sorry again for… this,” he says, gesturing vaguely at the situation.
you step aside, letting him into your apartment.
he moves carefully, like he’s trying not to intrude, and settles onto your cloud couch. it is a soft, plush thing that dominates the small living room.
you notice his eyes scan the space as you head to your bedroom.
there’s no heavy furniture here, just the couch, a small bedtable on the floor where you eat, and a tv propped against the wall.
there is no coffee table, no bulky cabinets...nothing that could make the kind of noise he’s talking about.
you shut your bedroom door behind you, heart still racing from the unexpected encounter.
inside, you slip into a matching black pajama set...soft cotton shorts and a loose button-up shirt, comfortable but presentable. you run a hand through your damp hair, trying to shake off the odd mix of annoyance and intrigue.
there’s something about woo-sung with his tired eyes, his awkward sincerity that makes your heart race. you can’t deny he’s good-looking, even in his disheveled state, but you push the thought aside.
you’ve got bigger problems than a cute neighbor.
when you step back into the living room, woo-sung is sitting stiffly on the couch, hands clasped between his knees. he looks up, and for a split second, his gaze softens, taking in your new outfit.
you don’t miss it, but you don’t acknowledge it either, settling onto the opposite end of the couch.
before you can speak, a loud bang echoes from above, followed by a series of heavy thuds.
you both freeze, heads tilting toward the ceiling.
“it’s those fuckin—” woo-sung starts, then catches himself, eyes wid, “it’s 1301, isn’t it?” he says, voice rising with frustration. you nod, standing up as the banging continues, each thud rattling like your nerves.
“that’s what I’ve been telling you,” you say, “it’s been like this since I moved in. I felt like it was always from above me. I thought it was you!”
woo-sung’s jaw tightens, and he’s on his feet in an instant, pacing toward the door.
“come on,” he says, glancing back at you, “we’re figuring this out now.”
you hesitate, then grab your robe from the hook by the door, slipping it on as you follow him into the hallway. the banging grows louder as you climb the stairs, your bare feet cold against the concrete steps.
woo-sung’s strides are long, purposeful, his earlier awkwardness replaced by anger.
you can’t help but notice the way his shoulders move under his shirt, and how his back looks from your perspective.
you shake your head.
focus, y/n.
when you reach 1301, there is crazy noises of stomping and what sounds like furniture scraping across the floor.
woo-sung pounds on the door, then the noise stops.
1401 leans close to the doorbell camera, “hey! open the hell up! you’re keeping the whole building awake!” he yells, his voice sharp but controlled.
you stand beside him, arms crossed, your robe slipping slightly off one shoulder.
of course the second he rings the doorbell, the noise stops like someone flipped a switch.
you exchange a glance with woo-sung, his eyes searching yours for answers you don’t have.
“what the hell?” you mutter, shaking your head.
the silence feels heavier than the noise. woo-sung runs a hand through his hair, exhaling forcefully.
“this doesn’t make sense,” he says, quieter
you sigh, exhaustion settling into your bones.
“I’m tired,” you admit with your voice soft, “maybe we deal with this tomorrow. can you come back down to my place around 8am.? we’ll figure it out then.”
he hesitates, glancing at the door as if it might start banging again.
“I’ve got… something at 8:15,” he says, vague but apologetic, “but 9 will work for me.”
you nod, already turning back toward the stairs.
“9 it is,” you say over your shoulder, not waiting for his response.
as you descend, you feel his eyes on you.
back in your apartment, you lock the door and lean against it, heart still beating a littler faster than normal.
however, you blame it on the late hour and your own frazzled nerves from the noises in the walls.
you slip off your robe, ready to crawl into bed.
that is when the banging starts again, echoing from above.
you freeze, staring at the ceiling, frustration bubbling up.
whatever’s going on, you and woo-sung are going to get to the bottom of it tomorrow.
for now, you pull a pillow over your head, hoping for the noise to stop, and to try not to think about the guy two floors up who’s somehow already gotten under your skin too.
masterlist
taglist: @erinkeenan, @musvic , @sevenstax , @berriesandcreambaby , @gasolinesavages , @humanoidempress , @casually-simping , @nohwoosung
