At that moment

It was summer that time, when Minho decided to move. He always imagined it would've been a greasy, scorching day -but for some reason, the weather thought otherwise. Because on that day, a summer's day, it was pouring. The rain angrily pitter-pattered in the whole city, colorful umbrellas walked along the streets but Minho, a man of twenty-five, a businessman at twenty-two, didn't have anything to shield himself from the pouring rain. As said, he did anticipate a hot, stereotypical, summer's day. The man groaned, carrying three boxes of his things upstairs. Luckily, his room was on the second floor, so he didn't have to climb much. The wooden stairs creaked a bit as he went up, step by step, dripping wet from outside. He reached his room after a bit and put down the boxes beside the door. He stretched his back and he heard a crack. Maybe he was older than he thought. He fumbled for his keys in his pockets and opened his room.

His space was pretty decent, a single bed, enough room (not that he needed that much) and it looked really nicer than his old one. His old one had walls thinner than paper, and it was pretty cramped up -but then again, not that he needed that much.

Yes, quite frankly, Minho is a single, dull, growing older by the second business man, with no adventure in his life and his world was pretty much just black, white and gray.

Sometimes, just sometimes, he wished that it could've been different, but he'd push those thoughts away and encode and type and calculate the given words and numbers presented to him on paper, attributes equal to his own.

Thirty minutes into fixing his stuff, he hears a crash from the room across his ( maybe the walls weren't so thick after all?). Alarmed of what it was, the man heads out to check. No sign of burglars or anything weird, but he did notice the flickering lights of the room across his. A normal, average person, such as Minho, would mind his own business, unpack his things and arrange them in an order they lived by and then go to sleep and imagine that this rainy, summer day was nothing but him moving, then sleeping then tomorrow will just be like any other day, and the next day and the next.

But no, Minho decides, today, maybe just for today, he'll be the not-so normal average person and walk over to the room in front of his, and knock on the door and ask if everything was alright. Because today, just for today, Minho's not gonna be the snobby business man that everyone knows in their apartment.

So he does, and he walks over, and he knocks, and he knocks again, and then the lights stopped flickering. Suddenly, the air was different to Minho. The building smelled like those books from the library, and the grass when it just rained, or when it's morning. But suddenly, Minho's finding it hard to breathe, because the shuffling from the other side of the door seems a little different, seems a little heavier, seems a little more---

"What do you want," A very stern voice said, as the door was briskly opened. It wasn't really much a question anymore, with that particular tone.

The man choked on his words. Because the air around him smelled like a bundle of frustrated teenage angst and he was definitely not good around teenagers or thirteen year olds, or whatever this kid's age was. Maybe toddlers, yes, Minho could take care of babies and what-not, but this, he did not like at all. The young boy had a pissed off look, eyebrows furrowed and his hair was dishelved. He had chestnut colored hair, dark eyes and somewhat, a tired complexion of his skin. He was a little pale, a little purple, a little red. His eyes looked tired, and he actually shaked a little, as he held the door open.

"Oh, well. Uhhhh," The businessman was lost for words for a few seconds, then he quickly added, "Just wondered where the noise came from," the man was not near giving up on the fact he wanted to be a good neighbor. Even though he was about five seconds away from just walking back to his own room and maybe just flip off the kid, and then close his door loudly.