Jeon Jungkook Oneshots

Neighbour

Moving into a dead man’s apartment was not on your bucket list this year. You had hoped to move into the apartment next door, number 4, the number 4 being unlucky in South Korea made the rent a lot cheaper and it had been empty for years. But your friend, Miyeon, the daughter of the tenant, had insisted you not, being very superstitious.

There was no reason to complain, though, as Miyeon had given you a hand moving in, plus a bottle of wine to break the apartment in.

"Thanks for your help, my darling," you hugged her tight with one arm, the other nursing the wine.

Miyeon pulled away with an amalgam of confusion and shock on her face. "What? You’re not going to let me stay?" You laughed as she put a hand to her heart. "I bought the wine, y/n!"

"Tomorrow I promise, I’m exhausted right now," you replied, practically pushing her out the door while she squabbled light-heartedly.

The door clicked closed with your palms flat against it, chuckling as Miyeon shouted across the threshold.

"I’m holding you to that y/n!"

It was around 3am when sounds from outside the apartment disrupted your light sleep. It sounded like someone was hauling something heavy that scraped against the concrete. You listened for a few seconds, eyes still squeezed shut to not lose any semblance of sleep, waiting for whoever was outside to stop. They didn’t. The scraping got louder until the door to the apartment next door opened, which was odd, no one was living there. Your curiosity defeated even your sleep, and you carried yourself through the dark apartment to the door—mostly to tell them to shut the hell up.

The breeze that caught the hems of your dressing gown almost had you turning back around but the light that seeped from under next door lured you out. With an air of cautiousness, a deep strange feeling in your gut, you knocked on apartment 4’s door. A pair of footsteps was instantly heard, a shadow disrupting the light underneath the door, the clunking of the locks disrupting the quiet night. The door opened with a swift jerk, the action making you jump, just enough for a man’s face to peek through. If you weren’t cold now standing outside at 3am, the chilling eyes that stared at you, unreadable, certainly drained you of all warmth. The overhead light cast over black irises, creating a glassy eye, emotionless look, casting over pale skin, dark long hair that fell like curtains and thin lips that hung open in question. In fact, if it wasn’t for the open mouth, inquiring the reason someone else could possibly be awake at this time, you would have wondered if this man was capable of emotion, considering the display of nothingness in the rest of his expression. 

Maybe if you looked closer, if you weren’t so tired (if it wasn’t ass ‘o’-clock in the morning) you would’ve sensed the panic lurking behind those crystal-like eyes, the way the man’s fingers gripped the edge of the door.

"Can I help you?" The words tumbled out of his mouth, the door cracking open a little more.

Even though his question felt rushed, his voice was deep and felt like silk across your skin. You took a breath, to break the hypnosis that had swooned you. He was obviously handsome, a discreet masculinity to him.

"Yes, well—" you started, shaking your head, "—sorry, but, I’m trying to sleep, and I didn’t realise these walls were so thin." You shrugged. Now that the door was opened a little more, although his wonderfully proportioned body didn’t allow a full view, you caught a glimpse of some of the apartment, which was oddly scarce, and a large suitcase. "Just got back from a trip?"

"Oh." The man glanced over his shoulder and back, sporting an effortless smile. "Yes. And I’m sorry I disturbed you, I had no idea someone had moved in."