Seeing him again had been like having her skeleton ripped out of her skin and being told to stand upright. She'd heard the phrase weak in the knees before, but that was the moment in which she faltered for the first time, her hand raised in the air, frozen from where she'd knocked on his door. Seulgi wasn't sure what she'd been expecting when she went to tell her brand new neighbor to turn his fucking porn down (curse the thin walls of the complex, their shared bedroom wall) but she hadn't expected this. When she'd left him behind in Daegu years ago she'd done so with the express belief she'd never see him again, had locked up all those emotions and all those memories and tucked them far, far away in the depths of her mind. The whole thing was unfair, absurd, ridiculous. She'd burned that bridge years ago and now here she was, living next door to him. He'd been handsome in high school but he was something else now. Taller and broader- though he wasn't excessively endowed with either of those traits. His skin was paper pale and smooth, his eyes dark and deep and everything about him lent itself to the expressive, magnetic, charismatic. It would be a lie to say she hadn't found his youtube channel and stalked it, felt the metaphorical knife dig into her heart as she watched him through all the years she'd missed. Years they might have spent together, under more favorable circumstances, years she'd cut him out of.
As a result, she blamed Yoongi for the fact she was two thirds of the way into a bottle of pinot on a Friday night, brooding over her tablet instead of partying with her friends, fingers flexing around cold glass and the frown crinkling between her brows lingering long enough to give her a proper headache. The throbbing bass from the stereo next door didn't help, and while she knew it was ridiculous to think so, she couldn't help but feel like he was testing her, provoking her... beckoning her. It was wishful - or foolish - thinking but the idea lingered in the hollows of her brain, until she'd drunk herself into tipsy enough that she gave in to the siren call of it. She pushed up to her feet, her head spinning as she tugged at her jeans, brought them to rest high on her hips like they were supposed too, tugging lightly at the hem of the tank that hung from slender shoulders. Mismatched socks padded out the door and down the hall to the only other unit on the floor, knuckles rapping against the wood and her heart stuttering in a sudden rush of nerves and adrenaline, took a swig from the bottle she was still clutching, toes curled against the frigid cement floor. "Can you keep it the fuck down, maybe? Its like two in the morning." she pointed out bluntly as the door swung open, feline eyes flashing as they swept over him, a once over she couldn't help but sneak. “Are you drinking alone? Thats the sign of a fucking alcoholic, you know.” Like she was one to talk.
