ㅤᴅᴏᴏʀ ⋮ C14

@❛ yugyeom kim。 @❛ lalisa manoban。 ’Neighborly’ behavior was never the sort of thing that came naturally to a man such as the tenant from B12. Sure, he could be friendly and generous.. usually when being so was beneficial to himself. If there ever were an instance in which he acted upon a bout of munificence, today would certainly be the perfect day for it. Albeit having been absent and dead silent for weeks amidst vast seas of wildlife, Youngho was now back home just in time to extend an amiable olive branch towards two other neighbors. Both much admired and respected in the glistening hazy eyes of a man who desperately yearned for the stability others seemed to relish. Such as Kim Yugyeom and Lalisa Manoban; the darling couple residing currently at apartment C14. Harsh realities made it all too clear that no one relationship or person could be perfect. Perhaps those young and in love had their own issues that were kept tucked away from prying ears or eyes, leaving Youngho with only an idealized outsider’s perspective. A fact which he was fully aware. Just because things weren’t always sunshine and in’ rainbows didn’t mean he couldn’t at least stop by to congratulate the pair on their first month anniversary.

So there he was standing front and center at the door labeled ’C14’, broad shoulders pulled back, chin lifted high with confidence. Feigned confidence at that. In truth the poor soul was shaking to the bone as anxiety painstakingly boiled within the depths of his chest. Tapping the bottom of his scuffed leather boot in a calculated percussion beat did he count down each second gone by– ᴛʜᴜɴᴋ, ᴛʜᴜɴᴋ, ᴛʜᴜɴᴋ! The boot kisses cold ground beneath, practically reverberating it’s stalwart tune throughout the corridors. As if those walls shrouding all around were his intent audience that soak in every sharp breath, piercing bite against tender flesh, or the way his blood courses throughout flexed veins. Who knew acting out a friendly gesture could be this nerve–wracking? ‘What if...’ Those simple words consistently replay themselves over and over again, scratching against a record full to the brim with taut apprehensive inner musings. Thus sprouts an ultimate resolution to appease dreadful jitters: leave the gift intended for his cherished neighbors, knock a few times, then bolt the hell out of there before anyone can be the wiser.

Just at the foot of the door does he carefully place down a small clay pot blatantly handmade as there were little imperfections and ripples across the rounded expanse. Painted with iridescent shades of a pale grey–blue sky, the most minuscule white flecks splattered about adorn like burning stars in the distance create a quaint mural of the picturesque skylines from his time away in the woods. Fresh soils are already patted and damp within the confines of the pot and flower seeds buried at the core, eagerly awaiting the day they might pop up and say hello to the sunshine at Yugyeom and Lisa’s windowsill. Attached at the bottom of the pot is a hastily scribbled poem in pitch black ink stained across coarse textured paper reading;

“ Love blooms with patience
Seeds of infatuation
Bury deep within

Soon sprouts the daisy
It’s purity bright
A new beginning

Petals curl open
And invite the truest love
With Freya’s blessing

Most sacred of all
The marriage of two souls
Come Spring, we blossom.

— With admiration, Johnny. ”

Finally rapping his knuckles against the wooden frame in a quick 1-2-3 he then turns his back on it and strides along down the hallway before his paralyzing fears are able to swallow him whole. Hopefully they would both enjoy the gift on their special day, know that he was thinking of them fondly, and that would be enough.

@❛ yugyeom kim。 It was quite fickle, really. For three words declared in repetition to hold such gravity in each syllable, despite the recurrence of its utterance. ‘I love you.’ Three words; an ostensible phrase of simple diction that hardly ever evokes brevity in its syntax. Concise in elements. Yet figuratively, difficult to explain despite countless times of utilization. If not the entire sentence, then the word itself: ‘love’. How could such a commonly used word have no sense of elucidation, that when one asks another, their definition would be laborious in nature? That when one is simply inquired of a meaning, a sigh of exasperation takes place beforehand, as if it’s far too burdensome to carry on a task such as that? Perhaps it is because there can never be one concrete explanation that would hold a universal understanding. Where a multitude of words are not enough to express what the single word means. Perhaps this becomes the very reason why the simple, three-word phrase holds such prestige above all others—why it is indeed one of the hardest things to vocalize towards another.

And yet, Lalisa stands in front of this man, this ‘simple’ phrase slipping past her tongue over and over again with ease. With a grin beaming brightly upon her complexion, eyes coruscating with indubitable adulation that pours unto his countenance. An issuance heeded only for him, because her very definition of ‘love’ included only two words: Kim Yugyeom. And without a doubt; not a hint of equivocation tainting it. How did she know? How was she so sure that his name had such palpable significance to the way she saw affection? Take the words that pour out of his mouth; the tone that she describes like that of a melody, concilliating her senses and therefore kindling the curve upon her lips. His touch that never strays from warmth, and the smile that radiates the same temperature, reminiscent of that of a hearth of a home. Finally, his eyes. Warm brown—chocolate, with rivers of gold that elucidate his kindness as a person. The pair that she consistently loses herself in, finds herself staring at whilst he leads her in a dance that would further declare this love. In an old-fashioned way, it seems. Her smile broadens. This is where she realizes that she’s fallen for him harder. And she didn’t think it would be possible, because she’s already deeply in love. So she mouths “I love you” as he sings along, a contented sigh leaving her as she dances dreamily along with him. Contented indeed.

Concentration had been allocated in the form of flipping pages of a cookbook; particularly one that she had recently picked up on the occassion of the upcoming event. Furrowed brows were a consequence of ambivalence, fingers on both hands slotted between pages to serve as temporary bookmarks to placehold whichever recipe she considered. And there were many. The female was about to review her previously selected food choices when she heard an incessant knocking at the door, followed by a familiar voice that had earned an eyeroll from the female. “He’s here!” She announced to her boyfriend, who had been upstairs for the time being, before she strode over to the front door, which she swung wide open with an unimpressed demeanor. “Changmin.”

the harsh back-to-back shifts had the officer groveling purely by the will of caffeine to lalisa and yugyeom's door. with his head hanging nearly at a ninety degree angle from his neck, he approaches the door with a sack of groceries intending to lend a hand in their requested french cuisine. his forehead hits the door before his knuckles, emitting an uneven, growingly weak series of taps against the door. "liiiiisa," he groans in time for his officer hat to fall from his head and onto the laminated floor. "answer the damn door, please."

@❛ lalisa manoban。 She hadn't been the commoner the prince had unwarrantedly fallen for in a happily ever after fairytale. If anything, Lalisa could never be a mere commoner, even at a position of defect and penury, she would have found a way. To excel beyond anyone's expectations. To transcend the social confinements and make a name for herself because that's how resilient his lover is. That's how utterly astounding her mind is. It's what had this 'prince' fall head over heels for her. Though he'd argue that she was more of a queen, radiating regality and absolute sophistication to those around her. And so he was soon to be her king. or perhaps, he had already come to be so, at the simplest act of clasping her hand in his own, a promise of sorts, to build everything together. Just how they had built their apartment with the finest of selections, a unification of their minds. She had stood before him, marvelling at the angelic features of his. Though what she hadn't known is, he was only an angel if she were the bashful goddess that she is. Aphrodite if he were to describe her beauty. Athena if he were to describe her mind. For how could he exist within her presence and not be fully enthralled? How could he bear a mind which thinks of her and only her? How could he hinder the heat from crawling up his neck? from settling on the tips of his ears in a reddish hue of his own sheepishness? To say the least, this man was a mess for his lover. He could hardly retain a sense of composure whilst he pulled her to him, their clasped hands held up in the air as his other rested upon her waist in a perfect position to the background music. That which had only intoxicated his mind into a softer aura, feeling as though his chest is on the cusp of overflowing with all the emotions he could never put into words for her. However, the music had it a purpose. To help him do exactly that. To gaze into the crystalline orbs of hers in utter adoration and sing along. "You're just too good to be true, I can't take my eyes off of you."

@❛ yugyeom kim。 Starry irises are flickering around, exuberant in their trail as she memorizes every detail of the interior of this apartment. Details of completion, each piece undergone assiduous cerebration; fastidious in each placement with regard to the simplicity of their colour palette. Black, white, and hues of brown, sophisticated in its arrangement and therefore timeless to the eye. There is a sort of commodiousness within the bounds of these walls, the lightness offered perhaps a result of the sunlight that cascades from outside, filtering in through the prodigious casement windows she fell in love with from the very beginning. Who would have known that such an impetuous decision they made just two weeks ago would lead to something so incredible, so vastly exquisite that it had very quickly become a home. A home that not only houses her and the little animals she calls her children, but an angel—her angel, who stands in utter resplendence beneath the brilliance of daylight. Within such natural light, she thinks, he looks so regal, so incredibly elegant and weightless that he might as well hold a crown atop his silver strands to ground him. A prince—/her/ prince. And she had been the common girl who had fallen head over heels for this figure, and for good reason, because when he bows down before her to the melody of Frank Sinatra, her cheeks flush in utter bashfulness. Lucky she is, to have such a seraphic being offer a dance. So, without another second to waste, she places her hand in his, the most foolish, love stricken smile gracing her tiers.

@❛ lalisa manoban。 In the brilliance of day, rays of light are reflected upon the large glass of their windows, the ones she so scrupulously selected herself with their fine black frame; low to the ground and reaching high to the ceiling. Streaming white beams naturally illumine the place they'd put so much effort in, two people with refined taste, coming together to build what might be a home they'd wish to spend the rest of their lives in. It's the simplicity of the idea, of their consolidated thoughts engraved into this which provides it with such an invigorating aura. It's the apprehension that, she'll be with him, at all times. The face that will greet him every time he comes home. The arms which will soothe him, make an exhausting day's work worth it. He weaves her lithe digits with his own larger ones, leading her inside with a zeal to his countenance. "It's ours, baby." he walks backwards, with his orbs fixated on her, tugging onto her hand. It's only when they reach the living room does he halt, holding up an index finger to her before he turns on the music player to start Frank Sinatra's I love you baby. As soon as it begins playing, he rushes back to her side, bending to extend a hand to her with perhaps the most sheepish simper he could ever display. "May i?"

@❛ yugyeom kim。 The sound of his voice was soothing; a beautiful melody to wake up to in the morning. At least, she surmises so, because although she’s already been awake for quite a bit of time, the softness of his voice encompasses her fatigued figure and lulls it into tranquility. In his arms, she’s calmed, and she wonders if this is exactly what it would be like every single morning from here on out. So she savours this, savours this warmth, because she longs for nothing else at this hour of the day. So she’s curling up in his arms as the rhythm of his footsteps had rocked her back to sleep. Almost. She had been on the verge of slipping back into a dream-like state when he had spoken once more, notifying her of their arrival. Humming in response, she lifted her head from the solace of his neck, peering at their surroundings. It had taken her a second too long to realize that they have stepped foot into their new home, into the dream apartment that they modeled together just two weeks prior. “Oh my god.” And just like that, drowsiness had diminished, and she had unraveled her legs from around his waist so that her feet meet the ground. “Oh my god, Yugyeom.”

@❛ lalisa manoban。 Peppering small little kisses upon her cheek, the male mutters to his girlfriend "Close your eyes, baby." Just in case she wasn't sleepy enough to have them closed already. He could sense the weight of her head on his neck, the touch of lips on rather sensitive skin whilst he carried her koala-like figure in his arms, guiding her to their new apartment. He had gotten up quite early this morning, to finish up all the remaining preparations they'd needed. and It would be an understatement to say he was exhilarated, he was practically restless from happiness. Unable to stay still that he could've gone off his rocker had they stayed in the lounge another minute. Still, he hoped it wouldn't show much on him, lest he ruins the surprise. "we're here, sleepyhead." he whispers to her, pushing the door open to their very own place.