Chapter Text
It has been one of those long days, when you were happy to finally leave your workplace and head home to crash into your bed and sleep. Maybe even take a shower, depending on how much energy you’ve left by then.
The rain just started pouring as soon as you stepped out of work, further annoying you but every atom of your body was beyond tired and you couldn’t even care about it. All you could think about was the warmth of your blankets and the scent of your shower gel.
By the time you arrived at your door, your clothes were soaked, your hair messy and all in all, your appearance pretty much resembled a zombie’s.
Resisting the urge to just collapse into bed, you gathered what little energy you had left and got ready for a comforting shower. You were halfway undressed when a sudden, sharp knock jolted you out of your thoughts, freezing you in place.
An exasperated sigh slipped past your lips — couldn’t you just have one peaceful moment after such a long day?
Still, you dragged yourself toward the door, your half-naked state completely forgotten. The door creaked open, revealing the last person you expected — and the sight made your breath hitch.
Standing behind the threshold was your neighbor, unfairly fresh-looking for the fact that he must have also come back from work.
His sparkling blonde hair was in a loose bun, some thick strands escaping and gently resting on his wide shoulders. His blue eyes glistened even in the shitty lighting of the hallway, lashes fluttering like he had just stepped out of a shoujo manga. He was wearing training shorts and a matching shirt, but his smooth skin wasn’t sheened with sweat, so he probably was about to hit the gym. His arms flexed as he leaned on the wall with one arm, granted to make anyone drool in a 5-meter vicinity.
Never in all your years living in the apartment complex had you seen Link — your annoyingly handsome neighbor — in any other form than this: effortlessly attractive, toned muscles hinting beneath his clothes, and a gaze capable of melting anyone who met it.
For a second, Link’s eyes widened, clearly glued onto your half-nakedness, but you were too tired at that point to do anything about it. His mouth even opened slightly in a confused little gape, before you inquired, “Link? Can I help you?”
“You’re… am I interrupting?”, he asked, eyes still not quite lifting to your face.
Irritated by his wandering gaze, you started closing the door in his face, but his hand came up to halt you in your action, quickly gathering himself to look you in the eye.
“Hold on, don’t just slam the door on me. I didn’t mean to stare, I just—wasn’t expecting… that.”
Unimpressed, you folded your arms across your chest, one brow arching high as you waited for him to finally explain why he was wasting your precious bath time.
“Alright, alright… I made a bit too much dinner, and, well… Mrs. Yama’s cat isn’t as pretty as you are, so… how about I tempt you with it?”
Normally, a satisfied grin would have spread across your lips, and you’d have agreed to free food without a second thought. But today? You didn’t have the energy to entertain Link’s shenanigans.
“No, thanks.” You tried to close the door again, but his hand shot up, stopping it mid-slam.
His grip stayed firm, but his voice softened. “C’mon… just a bite! I made it for you.”
“You always eat like you’ve been starving for a month, you can finish it yourself.”
“I— I also made dessert!”
“I’ll go and finish my bath. Good night, Link.”
His shoulders slumped just a little, a soft pout tugging at his lips. “…Fine. Good night, then.”
But just as you disappeared toward the bathroom, with the door about to slam, he called out to you softly, “Sleep well… don’t stay up too late, okay?”
Without answering him, you finally closed the bathroom door behind you, ready to indulge in a warm bath you were dreaming about ever since you left work.
Fresh out of the bathroom, you finally opened the fridge to see what leftovers you had and… well, there was pretty much nothing. Grinding your teeth, you were caught between having snacks for dinner or… pressing on your neighbor’s bell to check if he still had a few crumbs left of the aforementioned dinner he specifically made for you.
Oh, well.
Seconds later, you stood at Link’s door, wondering what his place would look like. Even if this wasn’t anything like a date, you’d never been inside his apartment before. It felt… intimate — the kind of thing only close friends or lovers would do.
But you and Link? You were neither. If anything, your relationship had never gone beyond neighbors who annoy each other. Then again, he might not even invite you in — just hand you dinner in a Tupperware, and you’d end up eating it alone in your quiet little apartment, pretending it didn’t sting a bit.
The door opened, snapping you out of your thoughts, and for a moment you thought the hallway light was playing tricks on you — it almost looked like Link’s eyes were glowing as he met your gaze. But it was only you, and you looked like a freshly bathed potato.
“Oh,” he gasped softly. “Still hungry, I take it?”
Unable to resist rolling your eyes, you let out a sigh. “Please, oh mighty neighbor, bless me with your food.”
A grin tugged at his lips, clearly amused that after you’d made him leave, you’d come crawling back for dinner. He leaned casually against the doorframe, flipping his hair back with an easy flick.
“Come in, then.”
You froze in the doorway, heart thudding. “W-w-what? You’re not gonna— I thought you’d—won’t you just… hand it over and leave it at that?”
He paused mid-step, glancing back at you over his shoulder. “Hm? But where’s the fun in that?”
Reluctantly, you followed him into his apartment, feeling a strange little tug in your stomach. You’d only ever seen the place from the outside — usually when you’d get on Link’s nerves by asking for sugar because you were too lazy to go to the store, or when you’d told him off for tricking the postman into putting all his mail in your mailbox.
As you were walking behind Link, the faint scent of cedarwood and laundry detergent embraced you. So that was what his apartment smelled like.
Ignoring the lovely scent, your gaze wandered across the room, taking in the unmatching furniture first — a comfy gray sofa with a couple of worn blue throw pillows, a wooden coffee table covered in faint scratches (probably from his tinkering), and a soft beanbag that clearly doubled as his nap zone.
Near the window, a few potted plants thrived — a handful of succulents and a small bonsai. On the windowsill sat a tiny herb box, and tucked just behind it, you spotted something familiar. Was that… a Korok figurine?
The kitchen area looked practical yet warm. None of the mugs matched, but each seemed to have a story — a tourist mug from a hiking trip, a chipped one that was clearly his favorite. A pan rested on the stove, looking like it had seen one too many late-night cooking experiments.
Link noticed the way you were staring and raised an eyebrow.
“What, never been in a guy’s place before?” he teased lightly, crossing his arms.
An exhausted chuckle escaped you, one brow lifting in response. “I’ve been to plenty of guys’ places. Just… none of them were yours.”
He let out a low chuckle, the corner of his mouth lifting into that knowing half-smile.
“And did any of them prepared you dinner?”
Blood rushed to your cheeks as his gaze seemed to pierce through all the walls you’d built before stepping into his apartment.
Link wasn’t the type to bring new women home every other week. The fact that he’d made dinner for you already warmed your chest. And now, in his home — where everything smelled like him, and tiny pieces of his life were scattered around — it felt impossible to escape his quiet, effortless charm.
You summoned a tiny bit of courage, gaze still lingering on the trinkets lining his shelves.
“Do you ask that of all the girls you invite over?” you asked, voice light but carrying just enough edge to make him pause.
A small laugh escaped his lips as he ran a hand through his hair, a few strands slipping free from the hairband. In the low light of his apartment, his blonde hair seemed almost ethereal, as if he weren’t already impossibly beautiful.
“Mm… maybe I do.”
“I mean… besides Ms. Yama’s cat.”
“What difference does that make?”
Laughter bubbled up in your chest while Link opened the fridge to warm up dinner for you. He poured soup into a bowl, then pulled out another container, filled with toppings for a hearty ramen. As he moved, you took your sweet time observing him — how his hands moved with precision, how he carefully placed the boiled egg on top, and how his gym shirt crinkled against his back with every movement.
He never really hid his chiseled body, which explained why so many neighbors seemed to have a crush on him — he practically had a little fan club of his own. Like the always-complaining grandma on the floor above, who had nearly filed a complaint against you for the plant that died under your care. Yet Link had only said a few words to her, and she was practically wrapped around his fingers.
Link wasn’t overly friendly to people. More like the silent-but-there type, quietly making sure everything ran smoothly — a lightbulb replaced here, a package picked up there — without being intrusive.
You still remembered the first day he moved into the apartment next door, and how overly excited you’d been to make a good impression. You even baked some muffins — because what else could possibly make you the best neighbor other than impressive baking skills?
When he opened the door, he was fresh out of the shower, droplets of water still trickling down his bare torso — definitely not the state you expected to find him in. Nevertheless, you went through with your introduction, offering him a warm smile as you held out the muffins fresh from the oven.
He was… neutral, at best. At first, you figured he must have been tired from moving and unpacking. Yet every time you gave him a friendly greeting, or a heads-up about trash day, it was met with nothing more than a curt nod.
Then came the elevator incident. You had boxes to carry, and he happened to take the same ride. As you were praying to the gods to reach your apartment without any awkward incidents, the elevator jolted to a stop, trapping the two of you inside. The situation was embarrassing, to say the least.
At first, you tried to break the silence with a nervous laugh. “Haha… guess we’re stuck.”
Link didn’t respond for minutes, letting the silence stretch, before finally speaking. “You’re not claustrophobic, right?”
Those were some of the longest ten minutes of your life. Yet, surprisingly, Link made an effort to strike up conversation, making sure you weren’t uncomfortable — even if it was subtle and clipped.
You swore you’d never ride the elevator again, keeping the same distant-but-polite facade whenever you ran into him. But the heavens weren’t done embarrassing you yet. The next day, a neighbor you were on good terms with brought up the elevator incident. And, of course, Link chose the perfect moment to show up.
“So, you had to spend ten minutes with him, all alone, trapped in an elevator? I know a few ladies who would do anything to do the same~” your neighbor giggled, swatting at your arm. You could only burn with embarrassment.
“Well, I would’ve done anything not to be trapped with him, I’ll tell you that…”
Your neighbor, well aware of Link’s cold demeanor toward you, nodded knowingly. You continued, “Honestly, even Ms. Yama would’ve been warmer company than—”
You froze mid-complaint, eyes widening as a soft cough cut through the air. Your neighbor pointed behind you, and you slowly turned… to see Link, jogging by, mid-evening run. His expression was calm — unreadable, even.
But you swore you caught it: a subtle flicker in his eyes, the faintest lift of his eyebrows, a little pause in his stride even. Something told you he heard every word — including your ill-advised comparison to Ms. Yama.
Oh, well. It’s not as if you had to be on good terms with him, right?
Right?
Well, it would’ve been right if not for the impossible lock on your door. Not even a day passed by when you locked yourself out of your own apartment, forgetting that just closing your door would lock it automatically.
You texted your friendly neighbor, you asked the janitor, but they all said the same: “You can ask Link for help.”
Because no one else in your apartment complex knew anything about locks — except for the one neighbor you were desperately trying to avoid. But after another long day at work, you swallowed your pride and decided to ask him anyway.
Every second after pressing his doorbell only made your nerves worse. The little bag of snacks you’d panic-bought at the grocery store on your way home dangled awkwardly from your hand, betraying just how unprepared you were for this whole situation.
Moments later, Link opened his door at last, and your whole face lit up from embarrassment from the reality sinking in: you really were about to bribe your neighbor with snacks after he caught you badmouthing him to someone else.
In the doorway, Link looked effortlessly handsome as always. His hair was slightly tousled but shiny, like he just took a break from filming a shampoo commercial. His face was nothing glittery however, as it had the most neutral expression known to man.
His eyebrow lifted slightly as he took you in from head to toe, gaze lingering just a tad bit longer on the snacks in your grip.
“I, uh… I locked myself out and I’d…I’d like to ask your help. Not for free of course!”
You pulled your lips into the warmest smile you could muster, lifting the bag filled with snacks higher.
“If…if you don’t like this, I could get you…”
“For someone who swore she’d rather be trapped with Ms. Yama in an elevator, you sure end up at my door a lot.”
A lot? A lot?
When did you ever…
“I’ll grab my toolbox. And I’ll take the snacks.”
Completely struck by his words, you just swallowed and nodded, letting him take the bag out of your hands.
“Th-thank you.”
Secretly, you hoped it would take five minutes at most, but Link was tinkering with the doorknob for fifteen minutes at that point, and not only he’d barely given you a few words to your questions, the constant little frown between his eyebrows never left his expression. Not so encouraging.
“Is it, uhm, really that bad?”, you inquired, anxiously clutching the strap of your work bag on your shoulder.
Link kept his eyes focused on the dismantled doorknob, twisting here and there with his screwdriver. “It’s a modern lock… and they did a pretty bad job installing it… so it’s gonna be hard to take it apart.”
“Is that so?”, then, on a weaker voice, you added, “I actually have some cheesecake left in my fridge and it would be such a pity if…”
“I can do it in five,” Link cut in, expression suddenly more serious than ever and his movements increasingly faster.
With a little assistance on your behalf, Link managed to open the door at last, and you finally got to lay on the floor, ecstatic to be in your apartment again.
With a little oh, you got up to shuffle to the fridge, taking out the cheesecake you promised to Link.
Link’s lips tugged into a small smile as he put his hand up in a stopping motion, “It’s fine, you don’t…”
But you kept holding out the plate, gazing anywhere but him. “Thank you for your help.”
Without declining your offer again, Link quickly shot a curt “it was nothing” to you, and accepted the cake.
You haven’t met him after that incident for a while. You avoided using the elevator like the plague and you figured he had different working hours than you did.
In fact, the next time you recall seeing him was when the part-timer janitor hit on you.
You were giddily going back to your apartment after a little shopping trip when you were stopped by that one janitor who was working when the full-time janitor was enjoying his vacation.
This guy was a bit suspicious, alright. Just the other day, he asked for your number in case the mailman brought you a package and also inquired you about your apartment number.
But on that particular day, he stopped you to say that he texted you and, “I don’t know, maybe we could talk, haha~”
For a second, you just frowned at the implication, stunned that he would actually pull something like that.
“You do know I didn’t give you my number to talk, right?”, your brow shifted into a deeper frown, delighted by every drop of sweat that glided down on his forehead.
“I— well, yeah, but—“
“I’m sorry, but I don’t text strangers.”
“Oh, c’mon, but we’re not strangers—“
You could practically feel the vein on your forehead being more and more visible, as you leaned on the janitor’s desk with both arms, lowering your head a little to be eye to eye with him. “I don’t know you, I don’t wish to know you and if you have no business with me, then don’t bother me.”
With that, you straightened up and exited the scene with a dramatic hair flip.
It was only at your door when you heard Link over the sound of your key turning.
“You surely know how to make the staff sweat.”
You turned your head, fixing him with the most unimpressed expression you could muster. He on the other hand, didn’t miss a beat.
“Could’ve just told him you only give your number to your 200-pound bodyguards with bloodhounds,” he continued, voice low and teasing, “maybe add that you’re not hiring at the moment.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, “Are you applying?”
A soft scoff left Link’s lips at your words, one corner of his mouth twitching.
“Don’t you find Ms. Yama better than me?”
“She would be effective. Give her ten seconds to talk and she’ll have anybody begging her to stop.”
An awkward silence settled between you, both of you holding your doorknobs, full of words you couldn’t manage to speak.
“Well, good night, neighbor,” you spoke up first, your head lowering in a small nod.
“Good night,” he echoed. Then, when you already stepped inside, arm taut to close the door behind you, Link added, “And tell me if that douchebag is bothering you again.”
He disappeared inside his apartment before you could even blink, leaving you alone with your unnervingly quickened heart.
From that day on, he kept being a lingering presence in your life: you ran into him whenever you visited your favorite café or bakery in the morning. He was there when Ms. Yama had a mental breakdown over the plant you killed. He kept making sure you didn’t have anything that had to be fixed in your home.
Or, like now, making sure you had a proper dinner after a particularly tough day.
The friction between the two of you never went away, but it altered with every interaction, sometimes peaking and sometimes smoothing out into something serene.
But for heaven’s sake, it really would’ve made things easier if he wasn’t one of the most handsome men of all time. Those sparkling blue eyes you couldn’t meet for more than a second without feeling your pulse stutter… the way his biceps flexed when he was changing a lightbulb in the hallway—
Heat rushed up your cheeks at the memory, burning so hot it could’ve boiled the ramen for him.
Link glanced over, catching your expression as he slid the bowl into the microwave. One eyebrow lifted.
“Doing all good over there?”
You sat a little too straight. “Why, of course! I was just… thinking of this guy I saw today at the café,” you blurted, the words tumbling out in a nervous rush.
Link snorted upon hearing your excuse. “A guy at the café, huh? Guess he must’ve looked really good if you’re blushing about it in my kitchen.”
Unprepared for his response, you could only gape like a stranded fish.
“Relax,” Link teased, leaning a hip against the counter. “If he’s got arms like mine, I get it.”
You couldn’t contain the eye roll at his smug comment. “And why would I drool over arms like yours?”
“I don’t know,” he shot back smoothly, “maybe I should’ve asked the other day—while you were staring at me, as I changed that lightbulb in the hallway.”
“I was revising you,” you countered, crossing your arms. “The last bulb you replaced didn’t even work. Switched it with the old one, didn’t you? Too busy daydreaming, huh?”
The microwave dinged as it came to a stop, and Link hesitated with the answer. You beat him to take the steaming ramen out, then sat down at the small table in the kitchen area.
“Thank you for the food~”
Link chose to sit down on the chair across from you, arms crossing in front of his chest as he watched you gobble up his cooking.
“Mm, Link, this ramen is crazy good! Are you practicing to make this for your girlfriend?”
A quirked eyebrow. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Well, you should! Dang, so much flavor and warmth! That hand of yours sure is capable~”
Link’s eyebrow shot up on his forehead. “Capable?”
You continued to stuff your face with the soup, unbothered as ever. “Mm, you know, this ramen actually reminds me of this ramen shop in the city…”
You fumbled in your pockets for your phone to show him which one you were talking about.
Unfortunately for you, you completely forgot about the hot guy drawing one of your friends sent to you with a cheesy capture, something along the lines of “he could put something other than his faith in me~” and your soul left your body as you unlocked your phone, only for Link to see a very detailed art with sweaty biceps and uncovered abs.
Trying to save some face, you cleared your throat and opened your browser, acting as if nothing had happened. “So anyway, this place has excellent miso broth—“
“…Right,” Link murmured, eyes flicking to your phone, then back to you. “Nice art.”
A gentle blush spread to your ears. “It’s uhm… my friend asked me to rate anatomy references.”
He nodded, expression unreadable but lips twitching. “Looks… educational.”
You met his gaze, unimpressed. “Won’t you look at that,” you said dryly, leaning back in your chair. “I bet if I charged a dollar for every ‘educational’ picture on your phone, I’d be richer than if I won the lottery.”
Link’s brow arched, amused despite himself. “You think I’ve got a collection?”
You shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
That earned a little laugh from him.
“Aren’t you a bit too interested in my phone for a neighbor?” he teased.
You squinted at him. “I’m not interested in your weird photos, Link.”
For a heartbeat, you just… held each other’s gaze. The silence stretched across the apartment, your heart thumping so loud it almost drowned out the faint sounds of the city.
Even in the low light, his eyes sparkled, the deep blue catching the glow from the ambient lamp. The moment stretched, thick and electric, like time itself had slowed.
Then, just as your pulse threatened to betray you, he spoke.
“You have food on your face.”
Wiping your lips, you squinted at him. “You always know how to talk to women, don’t you?”
He deadpanned. “I just notice things.”
Then notice the shampoo I thought you’d like, you dumbass.
But you just sighed, finishing the rest of your soup.
“So, what’s for dessert?”
A smile tugged on Link’s lips, amusement glinting in his gaze, like he’d thought of something hilariously evil.
“It depends.”
Your brow furrowed. “Depends on what?”
He leaned just slightly on the table, voice dropping a notch.
“Are we talking about food… or about eye-candy?”
Before he could finish, you stood up from the table, striding toward the kitchen to wash your bowl.
“You know,” you turned your head slightly to the side as you set down your bowl into the sink, “you can make fun of me all you want, but don’t act like you’re a saint.”
The steaming water hit your hands as you started washing your chopsticks, trying to ignore the warmth that spread your cheeks from embarrassment.
Link only spoke up once you were finished and already dried your hands with a cloth.
“I…wasn’t trying to make fun of you,” he muttered, his blue eyes searching your face, as if it had all the answers he needed to respond.
Sighing, you put the washcloth down. “Alright neighbor. Let’s just call it even between us, ‘kay? I got to eat the food you made and you got to tease me about half-naked men on my phone.”
A soft smile tugged on Link’s lips, and if he wasn’t that goddamn annoying, your gaze might’ve lingered on that soft mouth of his for an uncomfortably long time.
“Well, thank you for the food,” you muttered, getting ready to leave as you shuffled towards the door. “It was lovely. Your girlfriend will love it.”
Link scoffed behind you, his socked feet pat patting towards you on the floor. “I don’t—“
You halted in front of the door, turning your head a little to the side. “Yeah, yeah. Good night neighbor. Don’t make any weird noises, because I want to sleep now.”
And before he could give you one of his sarcastic responses, you were out the door, slamming it behind yourself a bit more aggressively than you wanted.
It was no use, really. Link would always be just Link. The handsome neighbor you wanted to strangle every time you caught him flirting with another resident in front of your own door. The insufferable, but handsome neighbor you’ll never quite figure out.