You didn’t expect much when you moved into your new apartment. The building wasn’t fancy, but it had a view of the Han River, and that was enough for you.

The first time you saw Namjoon, he was carrying a box of books up the stairs, his face half-hidden under a black cap and mask. You offered to help, and he smiled, his eyes crinkling.

“No, it’s fine,” he said softly. “I’ve got it.”

He didn’t. The next second, the bottom of the box gave out, and books went everywhere.

You tried not to laugh as he crouched down, embarrassed.

“Guess the box didn’t ‘have it,’” you teased.

He looked up, cheeks slightly red but smiling.

“Yeah, maybe I should’ve accepted that help.”

As you handed him a stray notebook, you noticed neat handwriting inside, lines of lyrics and doodles.

“You write music?” you asked.

“Sometimes,” he said with a shy grin. “Mostly when my boxes fall apart.”