you lived in the gray building, on the fifth floor, the top one. your window overlooked the condo's soccer field, where he was always playing — shirt slung over his shoulder, sweating, laughing. sunghoon was the type to make everything look easy, whether it was dribbling past an opponent or making kids running around smile.

you’d never exchanged more than a couple of "hi"s in the elevator, but you knew he noticed you. you felt his eyes on you when you crossed the lobby or watered your plants on the balcony. he was the reason you started wearing a bit more perfume before leaving, even if it was just to take out the trash.

one day, the intercom rang. it was him. his voice was low, a little shy, apologizing for bothering you, but could he come up? he needed help with something.

you opened the door, confused but a little excited. he showed up with a small smile, holding a crumpled piece of paper.

"you know how to take care of plants, right?" he asked, showing you a note that read, 'thanks for taking care of the sunflower while i’m away. water every other day.'

you couldn’t hold back your laugh. he was so... human. so awkward, so different from the confidence he had on the field.

"sure, I’ll take care of it for you."

he came by the next day with the plant in his hands and, to your surprise, a bottle of wine.

"to say thank you." he said, a little sheepishly. "but only if we share it."

that’s how it started. the two of you in your small living room, laughing at his stories about the kids on the field while you talked about your battles with your plants. he seemed closer, more real, and when your eyes met, you knew the distance between the fifth floor and the soccer field had never been so small.