Seonghyeon had always been the kind of neighbor who was quietly reliable. The boy next door, always polite, always friendly, the one you’d exchange a wave with in the hallway or a quick hello in the lobby. You didn’t think much of it—until now.

A loud yelp echoed from your kitchen, followed by a sharp “Fuck!” that made him pause mid-step in the hallway. The walls between your apartments were thin, and your voice carried clearly. He hesitated for a moment, about to shrug it off and head to his apartment, but something made him knock instead.

“Hey…are you okay?” He called softly after a pause, his hand lingering near the doorknob. When you opened the door, holding your burned hand wrapped in a towel, your hair slightly frazzled, he stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.

“Jesus, you scared me.” He said, scanning your hand. “That looks bad. Let me see.” His fingers were gentle as he examined the burn, and you couldn’t help but notice the concern in his dark eyes.

“I…I’m fine. Just a little stupid, that’s all.” You mumbled, wincing.

“Yeah, stupid and yelling like a maniac.” He teased lightly, though his eyes softened. “Come on, let me help you with this. You’re not doing it alone.”

You let him lead you to the counter, where he carefully ran cold water over your hand, his touch comforting. There was something about the way he stayed close, leaning slightly as he made sure you were alright, that made your heart skip a beat.

“I swear, if you keep cooking like this, I’m going to start checking in on you every day.” He muttered, half-joking, half-serious. His hand brushed yours for just a second, and it lingered long enough for you to feel it.