Twenty-three minutes left.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit," Chanyeol mutters to himself as he repeatedly knots his necktie and cursing with another failing attempt.

Everything was going well last night, you know. He practiced possible questions for the interview, ironed the newly bought suit, drank tea that was good for his throat, lighted up his favorite incense, and conditioned himself well for a good night's sleep—which was too good to the point that he slept through his alarm. 

It was his fault, really. He acknowledges that he treated himself so well yesterday that it's not going well today.

"I don't think I'm going to make this. Please let this knot be right." Chanyeol pleaded to himself. The growing tension worsens with the endless repeats of please, his voice cracking as he almost broke into tears. 

"Uhm, excuse me?" someone taps on his right shoulder, interrupting him from his internal struggle of making his tie right and the anxious reminder of the interview starting in a few minutes. Chanyeol turns toward the stranger, eyes glossed from the unshed tears.

"May I help you?" Chanyeol managed to ask. A question more likely directed at himself.

"If it's okay, I can tie your necktie for you. Are you here for the interview at the company down the street?" 

Chanyeol nodded, like a lost child being asked if they were lost, not even being able to say thank you for this kind gesture, focusing entirely on not breaking down in the middle of the street. "Yes."

"That's a very good company you chose," You praised to help him lighten up, but Chanyeol answers with a rather defeated thank you, still stuck in a slump.

"Could you please lower yourself a little? You're quite tall." he obliges, lowering his legs to adjust to your height, and you go about to his tie, relying on your muscle memory to the ups and downs steps of tying a perfect necktie.

"Is this your first job interview?" You try to strike up a conversation, and he nods in an almost robotic way, the topic about the possibilities of his job interview failing clouding his mind. It didn't even matter if there was a stranger offering to tie his tie. May this stranger be a pickpocket or whatnot, just please tie the necktie perfectly.

On the first try, you fail, and you can feel how Chanyeol's heart drops from his eyes with the unsuccessful attempt, whispering an oh no. Then you try for the second time, and this time, you finally succeed.

"Oh my god—Thank goodness," Chanyeol gasps in relief, almost dramatically dropping to his knees, and you catch him on time, worried about how his next problem would be the dirty stain on his slacks if he kneels on the concrete.

"Thank you very much. You've saved my life." 

"Literally—oh my god, thank you, really," he pulls you into a hug, sobbing and being grateful for his unexpected savior. You pat his back awkwardly, trying to comfort a pitiful man you just met who was failing to tie his necktie in public, uncertain how to receive such effusive praise.

"No problem?" you responded.

"It's already 8:19! I must go now," he declared, breaking the hug and bowing a ninety-degree bow, and you're startled by the overwhelming gratitude. 

"Please, there's no need for formalities," You muttered. 

Chanyeol looks up at you and breaks out into a smile, revealing the hidden dimples on his cheeks, and you're caught off guard, shocked by the unexpected smile that was concealed all along. Who knew he could smile like that?

With the remaining time left, Chanyeol dashes to the opposite street from yours before you can process the image of his dimples, smiling directly at you.

As his broad back and towering figure gets smaller from your vision, he stops, looking back at you, and waves his hand enthusiastically, mouthing the words "thank you." You smile back at him with a wave and go about your day as you walk to your street. 

You look back at him once, relishing the good feeling of helping a stranger to upstart your day—in resolute to walking to your office with your head held high because you can help people tie their neckties for company interviews in the future. 

"What a crazy superhero I would make," you chuckled and hummed your way back to your office building, the lingering thought of the stranger you helped smiling so radiantly, his prominent dimples that seemed to greet you a good morning. The sky never looked so blue today, and were the leaves of each branch of trees so pleasant to look at ever since?

Without you knowing, Chanyeol steals one—then two more glances at your departing figure, remembering how the most basic etiquette, which was asking for your name, was forgotten. For Chanyeol, it's comical how this morning feels so much like a drama. A stranger stuck in his petty little problem in the middle of the street then comes someone who does it so easily—I mean, doing it with just two attempts.

Despite not knowing your name, he marks you in his mind with the lingering scent of your perfume, still clinging to the right side of his neck from the hug earlier.

He wonders, "Does she work nearby here? She probably does." and he's now resolved to accomplish this interview, determined with the prospect of asking your name this time, hopefully meeting you in this same street again.

An Anonymous Chinchilla has accessed the document.

"Who the actual fuck is with me in Google docs 3 in the morning?" You spat out loud, hair put up in a messy bun, and your wrists feeling like it would joint out of its socket any minute now. Being in the last years of high school wasn't lax like what you think it would be. Pressure of choosing the right course for college, financial plans for the future, you were in between the joys of high school and the dreaded phase of adulthood.

Currently, you were doing final editing and proofreading of the research paper of your assigned group, a work done by the group leader. Your group was a bit decent based on participation and team dynamic compared to others in the class, so there were times you suffered and times that you were a-okay, but they were never like you in terms of work ethic. You were active at night, you loved that everyone was asleep in the house, everything was quiet, and you could do anything without being spoken to in the middle of the night so who is this anonymous chinchilla in your document?

You brush your hands from the crumbs of your midnight snack and type on your keyboard on the chat room in the document.

Y/N: Who are you?

Anonymous Chinchilla: hi group leader! ( ≧∀≦)ノ

Their message and yours are sent at the same time and you flick an eyebrow up in curiosity. Emoticons? Who uses emoticons these days? Was it the assistant group leader? Or the one who hasn't finalized their part yet? No, that's too unlikely.

Anonymous Chinchilla: oh right, i'm baekhyun hehe. sorry, i didn't use my university acc to open this document (・＿・; i'm currently outside so i'm only using my phone (^人^)

Oh, it's Byun Baekhyun. That class clown, that noisy guy from the back rows of the classroom. He was, thankfully, a decent guy in your research group. Had a lot of questions, participative, consulted for your thoughts on his works, and would do their parts before their assigned deadline. Basically, the dream groupmate, but he never struck you as someone who was a night-owl. Although the more curious part of this is why would he be outside? Like outside of your house stalker scenario or outside of his house?

Y/N: …Why are you outside at 3 in the morning?

Anonymous Chinchilla: buying and eating midnight snacks hehe. i typically do this like 3x a week? but i'm currently frequenting the convenience store nowadays bcuz of research (||￣^￣||)

He's the oversharer type. How cute.

Y/N: Oh, I understand.

Anonymous Chinchilla: u're so stiff when you talk group leader just like irl ㅋㅋㅋ

Y/N: Sorry, I like my spelling and grammar right.

He takes a while to answer, and the three dots of him typing finally appear.

Anonymous Chinchilla: r u attacking me rn group leader? (;´д｀)

Y/N: No, please, I didn't mean it to insult you. It's just my habit when writing.

Anonymous Chinchilla: huhu, that's good. i thought u didn't like me or sumn but you can still understand my slangs right? i want to talk to u properly (ノ∀≦。)ノ

You snicker, a bit of your fatigue disappearing from your new entertainment. He's a fun guy, at least, and a good groupmate too. You haven't had a real conversation with him, nor anyone in your group too, so this was really fun and new for you.

Y/N: Your choices of emoticons are funny|

You take a while to send your message, contemplating if you should add emoticons just like what he does, just because. You decide to pick an emoticon that you can still remember.

Y/N: Your choices of emoticons are funny. XD

Anonymous Chinchilla: what is that…

Anonymous Chinchilla: is that the ancient laughing emoticon?

Anonymous Chinchilla: you're using boomer emoticons group leader HAHAHAHAH LMAO

How dare he. You were trying your best to make him feel included and he compares you to a boomer.

Anonymous Chinchilla: sorry, that was rlly cute. (≧∀≦*) i just had to.

Y/N: Yeah, right.

Anonymous Chinchilla: OH NO.

Anonymous Chinchilla: PLS I'M SORRY GROUP LEADER

Anonymous Chinchilla: I WON'T MAKE FUN OF YOUR CHOICE OF EMOTICONS AGAIN PLS DONT BE MAD !! ヽ(illﾟдﾟ)ﾉ

Anonymous Chinchilla: (*´Д`*)!! (⊃ Д)⊃≡ﾟ ﾟ(ﾟДﾟ≡ﾟДﾟ)ﾞ?

"Pfft—" You let out a laugh, no signs that you'd even be done any minute now. You hold your stomach as it starts to ache to the point your body warns you of the lack of oxygen and too much air coming out of your lungs, your hand smacking anything it lands on and claps enthusiastically like a happy trained seal. "Seriously, his choice of emoticons are hilarious. It's almost like I can hear and see him talking," While you were laughing your ass out loud and trying (yet failing) to calm yourself down, Baekhyun spams the chatroom anxiously.

Anonymous Chinchilla: group leader :"<<< im sorry pls forgive me. i just wanted to talk to you for once since you were always so occupied when i see you (/o＼)(/´△`＼) ○|￣|＿○|￣|＿ o(；д；o)

Anonymous Chinchilla: group leader?

Anonymous Chinchilla: group leaderrrr????

Anonymous Chinchilla: y/n??? (T0T)

You wipe tears of joy from your eyes and cheeks, exhaling out a sigh as a finale for your fit of laughter, and finally put your fingers on the keyboard, typing—

Y/N: I'm sorry for not replying. I had a hard time typing because you're so easy to tease HAHAH

Y/N: Thank you for making my night though =) You're very funny, Baekhyun.

And he takes a bit longer to reply after your message. What's wrong? Was he already on his way home? Was there no service in his area already? But he's still in an active status in the document.

Anonymous Chinchilla: what…what was that group leader… stop it, you're making my heart flutter (*/□＼*)

"This guy, really." You chuckle and take a bite of your bowl of chips beside the keyboard. You wondered why you haven't tried to have a real interaction with him before? You weren't aware that you didn't act approachable as a person, but you knew you were very hands-on as a leader.

Anonymous Chinchilla: oh! i have to get home now, group leader! are there any things you would like me to work on the research today? im willing to sleep late tonight even if we have classes later

Anonymous Chinchilla: (*・・)σo(ﾟ▽＾)ﾉ

Y/N: Nothing at the moment. We have a peer evaluation later with other groups from other classes in the afternoon so…

Why not be friends with him?

Anonymous Chinchilla: sooo????

Y/N: Are you fine if you can tag along with me later?

Anonymous Chinchilla: oh. my. god.

Anonymous Chinchilla: YES OFC

Anonymous Chinchilla: PLS LET ME ACCOMPANY U \( ´∀`)/~~

Anonymous Chinchilla: I WILL DO MY BEST GROUP LEADER (^–^)＼

He's very likable, you thought. Very easy to read and also expressive, for what you've seen. There are some cases where online and real-life people have different personas, but this didn't mind you. Unlike you, who has the same personality both online and in real life, you don't know if you'll be encountering the same Baekhyun you chatted right now. Even so, this conversation was enough for you to have the courage to approach him and befriend him later. You sincerely hoped you could be good friends with him.

Y/N: Okay. Have a good night, Baekhyun. Go back home safe =)

Anonymous Chinchilla: you too, group leader! good night ( ^-^)ノ∠※。.:*:・'°☆ wishing you a good sleep hehe

Anonymous Chinchilla: see you later in class! (^o^)／~~

The Anonymous Chinchilla has left the document.

Baekhyun wasn't the greatest soldier alive when it came to alcohol tolerance; he himself had great self-awareness of it. This resulted in him never drinking furthermore in your presence once he knew he was tipsy. At first, you didn't mind this at all, although, after receiving the first-ever emergency call from one of his friends, this changed your mind.

The call consisted of the first few seconds of a proper conversation with the said friend, and then a minute later to Baekhyun stealing the phone, who was then drunkenly flirting with you. Clearly losing the battle between alcohol and his sobriety.

Baekhyun's friend that called you, who seemingly was the only person sober, got his phone back and pleaded you to get him ASAP before he lost his marbles dealing with a bunch of lousy drinkers.

You obliged, mindlessly arriving at the destination a lot quicker than you thought, almost snickering at the thought of a crimson-cheeked boyfriend just smiling like a fool at you. Junmyeon, the caller, his face of weariness turned into a relieved one as he greeted you at the front door, booming noises of drunken men singing karaoke inside and the strong smell of assorted liquor exuding from him.

"Hi, Y/N! Here to pick up Baekhyun, right?" he questioned, which honestly sounded more like it had only one valid answer.

"Yes, though it looks like I'll be spoiling his fun if I pick him up while all of you are having so much fun." You politely replied just for formality.

Junmyeon chuckled and firmly added, dead in the eyes, begging, "I promise you that you aren't. Please come inside, Y/N. Please?"

"Y/N? Is that Y/N? Y/N!" A familiar bright, boyish voice slurred in excitement from the inside. You looked at Junmyeon for assurance, and he nodded, encouraging you to enter the living room. You gulped in nervousness, thinking of how to deal with the new kind of Baekhyun you'd never met before. It was like helplessly walking on a field of tall grass full of wild Pokemons.

Before leaving your shared home with Baekhyun, you've researched the effects of alcohol, and one struck you: repressed emotions and thoughts will be set free in a drunken state. You weren't sure if that was true since no reliable sources proved this fact, but you still wondered, almost in a way of contemplation. Doubtful if you can even deal with a wasted Baekhyun.

"It's me, Baek—Oh my god."

There he was. And you were right about one thing: his cheeks would go red when he was drunk but based from the research about repressed feelings when in a drunken state, you can tell that this Baekhyun will be a handful.

"Y/N~" The last syllable of your name dragged on as he attempted to wiggle up from his seat. "I missed you so much, Y/N." You quickly ran up to support him from standing, relieved that you caught him on time.

"But we were together like… four hours ago, baby." He nodded in reply.

"Exactly." Oh, well.

After bidding goodbye to the rest of his friends, who were thrilled to see you, you got help from Junmyeon to put Baekhyun on the passenger seat, bidding him farewell and good luck as you set off to go back home.

Surprisingly, the first couple of minutes of the drive were quiet, and your boyfriend was just sleeping peacefully, thankfully, not causing a ruckus silently. You didn't try to pry him from his peace and just continued driving, waiting for him to mumble anything you could tease him about once he woke up. You admired this very moment of comfortable silence, wondering of the antics that would happen by the next morning and planning to prepare ahead a good hangover soup to lighten the weight of your lover.

"Baby?" He's awoken.

"Yes?"

"Can I hold your hand? It's quite cold," he requested groggily.

"I can't, baby. I'm driving us back home."

"Oh...then, can I borrow your jacket?" Baekhyun tested again, opting for a different consolation.

"Yes, of course. It's on the backseat, Baek."

He struggles to look for it in the back seat, carefully but clumsily putting his arms inside the armholes of the jacket when he does.

A few minutes pass, and he complains again, "...I still wanna hold your hand, Y/N."

"Let's hold hands when we're under a stop light, okay?" You turned the car to the highway, and coincidentally, the red light from the traffic light stopped you. In reaction, Baekhyun reached out for your hand and interlocked his cold fingers with yours.

"Y/N?" he called out again.

"Yes?"

"Your hand is very warm. I love holding your hand."

You beamed with a snicker, looking down at your entwined hands. His hands that easily get cold and would always seek refuge for yours that were always cozy and warm. These hands that would always cup your cheeks and kiss you plushly in the wake of the morning. You noticed the difference of temperature of his and your hand, and you grasp slightly harder, attempting to warm his faster.

"I love holding your hand too, Baek."

The traffic lights turned green, and you gently removed your tightly held hand from him, leaving his hand to reach out to yours with dismay.

"Y/N?" Baekhyun asks for you again from just a few miles.

"Mhm?" You hummed softly, never troubled by his constant wants to hear your voice and attention even if he asks for the vainest demands.

"I need you to answer a question."

"Sure."

"If I was a sleepy sea otter," he yawned, the sign of the need to sleep displaying, "And you were also a sleepy sea otter…."

"Will you hold my hand so we'll not drift away from each other when we're sleeping?"

"Baek?" It was your turn to ask, "You do know that we always snuggle when we sleep, right?"

"...Oh. Then, can I hold you all night when we're finally home?" There were remotely a small number of cars driving, so you turned the car, almost near your home and took the opportunity, interlocking the hand that rested on his thigh with yours, holding it near your lips, and kissed lovingly the back of his hand.

"When it involves loving you, then it's always a yes."

Surely, this state will be enough to cause a hangover once you wake up tomorrow. You thought to yourself, palm on your forehead, wishing for the elevator to reach the current floor you're staying temporarily. 

Oddly, the air in the hallways felt warm, so you removed your coat, revealing a body-hugging Versace chainmail dress your generous friend who offered you to wear tonight for clubbing.

Earlier morning, you had a petty argument with her. When she would give you her Versace things, it would always consist of you not accepting them since they were very expensive, to passive-aggressive threats you'd receive from her, then to her gleefully seeing you in Versace, your bag heavy with her gifts. You didn't have to buy clothes at all. You had a supplier of your things for free. 

You were on a business trip for this month, consisting of attending board meetings, reviewing proposals, and sharing a drink and good conversation with special sponsors. Since everyone was given a week of rest, the same friend insisted on taking you out clubbing tonight and also invited your other friends. It took you a minute to contemplate if you should take today to only sleep, but you loved a good drink and company, so you eventually agreed. Leading you to this bad state of headache from alcohol.

As you safely reach your room and input your pin on the door lock, you feel a figure on your right, and you take a look only to see the dreaded person you didn't want to meet during your stay in this hotel—your neighbor.

You're staying in a good small three-star hotel, and all of the services were fair quality, so you hadn't thought of any disruption when staying here, except for one. Your neighbor, a great singer, truly, is a nuisance just by singing karaoke in the dead of the night. The walls of the hotel rooms were thick enough not to hear conversations, so it meant that your neighbor was just that loud.

Imagine going back to your bed only to hear your neighbor disrupting it with their hobby of singing karaoke heartily before going to sleep. Honestly, you also guessed that you would be sleeping at the same time as him, ruining your sleeping schedule. Even some point on those nights, instead of being irritated when you were already prepared for a good night's sleep, you would wonder if they just recently had a breaking point like a heartbreak with those sad ballads. He was singing his heart out to Bruno Mars, but you needed your goddamn sleep.

You thought of some options to stop this, and it only led you to the solution of switching rooms. But it would be far-fetched since the only available ones were far from your budget.

And there you were, waiting for a good chance to complain about the noise, but the noise your neighbor has been making isn't that loud for the other neighbors to complain. You also didn't have any proper decorum at night to complain to your neighbor, and you were always busy during the day, so you had to shelve all of your ill temper inside you. 

Still not noticing your presence, you take in all the information of him. Average in height and an all-black comfy outfit of hoodie and sweatpants. Understandable for someone who would sing the blues in the middle of the night. Yet, your senses start to tingle. Your knack for recognizing attractive people could detect that he was more attractive underneath this cover-up, even if we were from a bird's eye away.

Strong hands and fingers with years of experience as a musician swiftly type down his door pin, and his hand forms firm fists, his knuckles prominent as he holds down his door handles. He's about to enter his space when he notices your presence. And finally, you know the face of your nuisance of a neighbor, which might turn quite a turn starting this moment.

The neighbor was a new face of attractiveness you'd never seen before. Dark and formed eyebrows beneath the straight black fringe, drawing you down to his large moon-shaped eyes with full black irises that sparkle from the light reflected off your dress. You trace your eyes down from his nose to the most striking aspect of his face; his heart-shaped pink lips parted like cushions of velvet when caressed.

He realizes a bit late of your stares, making him bow, a gush of warmth rushing up to his ears as he greets a good evening.

Snapping back to reality, you also bow, struggling to straighten yourself from the alcohol in your system.

"Good evening," you greeted back as you stood straight up, and he smiled idly, reciprocating the greeting.

"Kyungsoo? Is that you?" a man from his apartment called out. 

"Yeah," he replied back, quickly bowed at you again, mumbling a goodbye, then entered his room hurriedly.

Too bad, you thought. A part of you wished you could observe him more to satisfy the curiosity that the 'once' dreaded neighbor was actually a sight to behold, but the remaining half just wanted to take a good hot bath and bury yourself on the soft mattress of your bed. 

You shrugged it off, deciding to surrender to the latter choice, and entered your apartment, dropping your purse on the couch and your body followed.

As you looked around your space, you feel a bit empty just from the difference of the fun energy from clubbing and this bare hotel room. Nothing was in your room to feel like you were home, and you were feeling like you were living in a blank space these past few days.

Empty tables and countertops greeting you every morning is starting to suck off the energy you regained *barely* from sleep. Missing the familiarness and coziness of your home, and most importantly—"Fuck. All this clubbing makes me wanna get laid so badly." 

I mean, how could you blame yourself? Lewd scenes in the club of people getting drunk and making out on the dance floor, and then when you're fed up with that scene and decide to take a tinkle, you go to the restroom only to see another cluster of people getting drunk and making out. The worst is hearing grunts and skins slapping in the women's bathroom.

Just how are you supposed to compose yourself? Being surrounded by horny people made you horny too. You're human.

Ding. Notifications from your phone on the couch pop up, and you check out what's happening. They were pictures sent by your friends in the group chat, all of you just having fun drinking in the VIP section, along with texts if everybody got home safely, and you noticed yourself in those pictures. 

The long deliberation of wearing this iconic Versace chainmail dress your friend told you to wear and ending up wearing it was worth it. This dress attracted many lookers on you tonight, and your friends teased how you were practically glowing with the dress.

You can't help but take advantage of the remaining glamor you feel with yourself and also the desire to please yourself tonight. So you dim the lights of your room, and you hear the noise of an electric guitar chord tuning from your beloved neighbor.

You groaned in frustration and punched the air toward your neighbor's place. "You may have attracted me on our first encounter, but you're still good at being an ass." But this action alone of trying to argue with your neighbor's walls is helpless, so you slumped on the couch again and stared off into space. 

"The guitar solo on this song is so good, I swear. It's good that you picked this song for a starter in your plans to be a musician." The muffled noise turned clear, hearing them from an unmistakable sound of speakers. They were using fucking microphones. 

"Yeah, hopefully this would be a good song for my audition. I've been practicing my vocals for a while now, so I might as well pursue it." You almost calmed down hearing the neighbor's deep calm voice, followed by the melody of a familiar intro of a song on a synth piano.

The sound of romantic and dreamy enter your senses, and you place your ear on the wall to listen more closely. You can't pinpoint what this song's title was, but you know that it is pretty famous.

The other voice that wasn't your neighbor interrupted, "Let’s start filming the practice? I think we’re ready to record." Then the synth stopped, a pout on your lips formed unconsciously, and you strayed away from the wall in defeat.

"Sure, but before we start recording, I saw my neighbor by the door earlier…." 

Me? you thought, eyebrows furrowed with curiosity.

Silence and a deep sigh engulfed it. The neighbor continued, "I think it was her first time to see me and her dress tonight…it looked so perfect on her, like it was tailored for her only. It also looked expensive like all of the past clothes she wore, and there is always the familiar scent of—" 

"Versace?" The friend finished.

"Yes. Exactly." 

"That's why you picked this song. So then, what did you do?" The friend continued, full of expectations. 

"I bowed, greeted a good evening, and immediately went inside since you called out for me."

"Kyungsoo?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You're an idiot."

"Pfft—" you snorted, glad that you held yourself back by covering your mouth.

"What do you mean?" Kyungsoo asked innocently, clearly showing no signs of remorse for his actions. You never knew your neighbor was so naive, especially when his songs, besides the ballads, were always passionate soul and R&B music. 

"What do you mean? Are you serious—You're hopeless, Do Kyungsoo" and silence. The friend was too stunned to speak, even to inform Kyungsoo what he had just lost.

“...”

"Would you like to practice before we record?" Kyungsoo blurted out.

"Yes, please."

The dreamy tune of the synth goes again, and a specific key of the synth feels like Kyungsoo was about to start singing until you hear the first stanza. You're frozen, silenced. This is Bruno Mars' song, but neither is it about the blues nor the music of a broken-hearted man.

So this was it, the reason why this melody was so familiar. It’s Versace on the Floor. The dim lights of your room, the smooth and sensual synth piano, and his voice, like the color of the finest silks of green, set the caress atmosphere. You've always heard him singing passionately, but this vibration and temperature of emotion were much unlike his past way of singing. 

As you struggle to catch your breath, a growing sensation builds, the feeling of weight getting heavier as you struggle to dedicate yourself to listening to his serenades alone. Thoughts of him on your first meeting start to swarm up every corridor of your mind, and you lean your back to the wall. Eyes closed and hands to your chest, grasping the hem of your dress to fully immerse yourself with the walls that seem to be the only separation of your longing and lust for pleasure.

Realization of reality opens your eyes to the current situation. Was this just a coincidence? Versace, the conversation about you, and this song. Wait—is this song actually for you? 

A fit of laughter of disbelief escapes from your lips, the tip of your tongue poking your inner cheek. The alcohol must have reached your rationality, though this doesn't stop you from entertaining the thought of just hearing his intentions to undress the sight of you in your Versace dress, tingling you with excitement.

But this isn't right. You convinced yourself. This is uncalled for. How can you lust on a man you just met?

The headache from the alcohol disperses and a new sensation replaces it. Your legs and arms go weak, and you slowly fall on your carpet as the chorus ends and another verse comes.

There was nothing to stop you, yet still you worried if this song was supposed to be dedicated to you. You groaned in frustration, and gave up, following his explicit instructions, unzipping the zipper from your back, the sound of a smooth zipper gliding down along the lines of your spine. In a trice, the nipple covers on your breasts are long gone, and you shiver from the nakedness of your chest; the tip of the nipples achingly hardens from the coldness of visibility. 

Kyungsoo's voice still reverberates clearly despite the thick walls and sensual lyrics of the following verse of the song filling the air as he sings about tender intimacy. You lick your fingers and imagine him kissing you bold, tracing down from the curvature of your neck to the enticing slopes of your shoulders. It didn’t matter how graphic and lewd he’d sing about the curves of your body, the assurance of your unquestioned beauty heard sincerely. 

To him, you were his muse. He reveres and divines your every composition, turning you into hymns of his desperation to touch you. You were a spec of his imagination in his eyes, the belladonna of what he can’t even grasp his dreams to be with. The sultriness of his voice chants of kissing you naked, undressing in your dress, and you hum in contentment, brushing your agitated nipple, igniting a symphony of pleasure within you from the light contact.

Every inch of you quivers, delicious temptations of touching yourself, hypnotizing your sanity, and the morals you've put yourself to protect crumble down. A great requirement of satisfaction has been set upon you, earning for you to yearn more, itching to caress the warm existence between your legs.

You wanted to feel his emotions. No, instead, you needed him to look at you with those large radiant eyes to look straight into yours without any hint of hesitance behind them and touch you with those carefully carved hands on every part of you. And with that voice, that heavenly blessed voice, if he was here with you, you'd fawn over him as he barely touches his velvet lips on your ears, whispering sweet praises slowly leading to merely sweet nothings of your existing beauty.

Amidst the yearning for him, do you hear the sweet guitar solo you've forgotten existed in the song, the long tolerance of your refusal of self-satisfaction vanishing. You readied, your hand busy teasing your erected breast and the other pulling down the remaining dress that covered the rest of you. You shut your eyes closed, feeling your hesitant cold hands go near between your thighs, landing to touch your clit, and a hiss comes out of your mouth from the touch.

Hallucinations of Kyungsoo in front of you, observing you just like how you imagined him to be, with anticipation, with eagerness. You spread your legs wide and leniently stroked your clit, capturing you with an airy moan, a rush of ecstasy from your cunt to your arms. Shortly, your patience goes dry, gaining more momentum and force to your strokes, knees buckling, and your legs surging from high. 

You feel it coming close, and you stop yourself from the pleasure as he sings the song's ending chorus. Quickly you grab the nearest pillow from the couch and sit on it, legs on either side of the pillow and start humping. The interrupted orgasm recovers, and you think of how erotic and ludicrous you are, pleasuring yourself just by the voice of a neighbor you once hated, which turned out to be the man of your ideals. 

Kyungsoo belts out the song's last note, and you whimper, nearing your orgasm. You stifle out a noticeable mewl as you orgasm, and you immediately cover your mouth, hoping that it wasn't heard, especially by your neighbor. 

"Fuck, no, no, no," you mumbled repeatedly and lay dead on the carpet, body weak from bliss. 

"That was amazing! I think you're good to go for the audition already, Kyungsoo. Would you like another go? Just to make sure," The friend complimented Kyungsoo, but Kyungsoo remained quiet, and you felt every nerve of your body growing cold. 

"Soo?"

"Yeah. Can we record in your studio instead? I wanna hear my voice clearer." 

"Sure. I'll just meet you on the ground floor since I'll be starting up the car." 

"Okay." The sound of a door swinging open next door is the last sound you hear. 

It was just the two of you left, and it felt awkward even though you were technically in different rooms, but it felt like you were in the same space, feeling the tension and being the only ones aware of it. You pursed your lips and exhaled to relieve your nerves, neglecting your eavesdropping. 

Better take a bath, sleep in the comfort of your bed, just like you planned, and pretend nothing happened. Yes, that's good for now.

Knock knock. That sound definitely didn't come from your phone, nor was it an alarm clock you hopefully set by this hour for no reason. It was from the door. Your door specifically.

You hastened in wearing your nipple covers and wore your dress again, wearing a cardigan from the hanger near the door. You braced yourself from what you might see from the door viewer, and you tiptoed, seeing from the small hole the neighbor, in the same clothes earlier, his chin rested anxiously on his hand.

Shit, you cursed under your breath and tried to fix your hair and cover the skin showing on your chest with your cardigan. You slowly opened the door, and the neighbor didn't expect you'd even open the door.

"Uhm, can I help you?" You asked, and he opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and he attempted again.

"I…" Your eyes grow larger as you expect his response, looking straight to his eyes that wander around, trying to find answers from everywhere until he meets your eyes, and something bursts.

The both of you crash into each other's lips simultaneously as if knowing each other's pursuits of lust, rashed and rough, inhaling only the oxygen that suffices from one another.

Kyungsoo grabs hold of your waist and pulls it near, an indecent sigh coming out from the kiss. 

"Sir—" 

"Kyungsoo." he breathes deeply, out of breath. "Call me Kyungsoo."