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A cool autumn night. The orange, yellows and reds of the falling leaves compliment the green of the grass. The dark night sky is riddled with specks of light as the stars shine brightly. Fifteen minutes from the busy city, they're visible due to the lack of big lights.
Just on the border of the city's outer line, stands a small apartment building. They're nice sized apartments. Two to three bedrooms, most amenities included, washer and dryer hook ups, all for $800 a month.
The only thing that isn't included in with the deal is 100% soundproof walls.
The current walls do the job for most activities. Occasionally, the occupants of the building will hear a vacuum from next door. Or maybe a couple gets into an argument. The neighbors will be able to hear that but the make-up sex will fall on deaf ears.
There is one sound in particular that goes through the neighboring walls like it's nothing. It makes the neighbor think that he has sonar hearing.
It's the shrilly, incessant cries of an infant. You'd think someone was killing him the way that he screams.
Yoongi lays on his back staring at the ceiling, listening to the baby crying. He looks over at the clock on his nightstand.
3:16 A.M.
He has to to be at 6 in the morning for work. It's a 12 hour shift at the hospital. He'll possibly end up having to do more. As a surgeon, he often does. Lately, it's been difficult for him to get shut eye.
He's understanding or, trying to be as much as he can. By the tone and how frequently that the baby cries, he assumes that they are very young, maybe a few months. They're a baby. Of course, they're going to cry. He's seen the mother in passing. She looks to be in her early to mid twenties and he knows this is her only child.
So with all of this in mind, again, he tries to be understanding. That does not mean, however, that it's working out for him. There's a stoic expression on his face as he stares, unblinking at the ceiling. He is exhausted and now, very frustrated.
He isn't the only one feeling this way, though.
Next door in apartment 3B, a twenty three old woman holds her crying baby, rocking him side to side, back and forth. Warm tears fall down her cheeks, following the trail of the old ones as they go. She sniffles and talks to her baby quietly, begging him to stop crying.
She's trying to rock him, she's tried to feed him. She's changed his diaper and checked his temperature. She's even changed his clothes into ones that are a bit more comfortable.
