What Happens When Your Neighbor Plays Music at 1 in the Morning (BTS RM/Namjoon)

Some People Don't Sleep, And It Really Shows

Nothing feels better than finally having your apartment cleaned, organized, and not stuffed with boxes. Everything is out. No more cardboard. No more heavy lifting. No more up and down the stairs. No more moving this decor and chair there then moving it somewhere else later. A feeling of accomplishment. 

With a sense of dread as your entire body aches in extreme pain. 

Cardio and physical workouts to immense intensities were always one of my weaknesses. And continues to be it seems. 

I haven't budged from the couch in hours. I don't even want to try to move. This ache, ugh. Never again. Never again will I deny the help from my family members and relatives. I just had to prove myself as an adult. An adult who can perfectly handle any situation they're given. And what other way of stating adult-ness than moving into your own apartment? Besides paying bills and taxes and healthcare and insurance. You know, the small stuff to stay alive. 

I end up passing out right then and there. With all the hard work I've put into this place, I deserve a good night’s sleep. 

But then, around one in the morning, the person next door decides to blast their music. The bassline rattles my bones. I stuff a pillow over my head. It doesn't drain out the song. 

I end up throwing the pillow against the wall out of frustration. 

Who in their right mind would decide to throw a concert after midnight? Who in their right mind would be up at this hour anyway? These dark hours are sacred. Don't they know that? Some of us need sleep to function. 

I end up staring at the ceiling, hands crossed on my chest. My fingers tap impatiently as the song goes into the bridge. 

I do have to admit, it has a catchy tune, but I'd rather enjoy it when the sun is up and shining. 

I guess I choose the wrong person to be next too.

Or maybe that's why this room is currently available. The previous owner got tired of whoever is next door and left. It makes sense to me. But it's my first night, and they are kindly welcoming me with open arms and catchy tunes. 

Once the third song starts, I leap off the couch and wrap a blanket around my shoulders. I stomp into the hallway and two other doors open. Our doors click shut and we all stand in silence. 

A young man in disheveled, pastel pink hair emerges across from me. I can't help but raise my eyebrows. 

Did he just get up too? 

He rubs his drooping, tired eyes. "Sorry Joonie," he mumbles. I turn to see the last of the late-night trio. But he doesn't look one bit exhausted. His eyes are sparkling, his silver hair is done (and quite stunning), and his clothes look fresh off the press. Not a wrinkle or imperfection on them. 

"You need to tell him, Jimin. Sending a text would be a much simpler way of getting your attention." 

"You know Kookie doesn't listen," he whines, his lips stuck in a permanent pout. I bite my bottom lip, unsure if I should interrupt them or not. 

My hand slides to my jeans pocket. I pat around my legs, eyes wide in fear. 

I don't have my key.

I look between the two guys, they're too immersed in their conversation to notice my panicked state. I take in a deep breath, trying to seem tuned into their bickering. 

"Then please, tell him now so everyone can get some sleep."

"Joonie~," Jimin playfully beats at his shoulders. "He won’t listen to me. He only listens to you."