You and Seungmin had lived in the same apartment building for years—same floor, opposite doors—yet somehow existed in completely different worlds. You loved quiet: soft music, open windows, evenings spent alone with your thoughts. Seungmin was the opposite. Noise followed him everywhere—rock music blaring through headphones, leather jackets, late nights that echoed down the hallway like he wanted to be heard.

You never got along. And he clearly enjoyed that.

That evening, school had drained you completely. It was already dark when you reached the building, backpack heavy on your shoulder, steps slow with exhaustion.

That’s when you saw him.

Seungmin leaned against the wall by the entrance, one foot propped up, jacket half-zipped despite the cold. A cigarette glowed faintly between his fingers as he took a slow drag, looking far too comfortable—like he owned the place.

You tried to walk past him without a word.

“Is the little princess exhausted?” he drawled.

Before you could react, he exhaled smoke in your direction, eyes gleaming with amusement.

You stopped. “You’re disgusting,” you said flatly. “And you’re blocking the entrance.”

He smirked. “Relax. It’s just smoke. Won’t ruin your perfect, quiet little world.”

You clenched your jaw, meeting his gaze despite yourself. Up close, his eyes were sharper than you expected—too observant.

“Some of us actually had a long day,” you snapped.

He studied you for a moment, then flicked the cigarette away and stepped aside. “Yeah,” he said quietly, almost softer than before. “I can tell.”

For a second, the teasing dropped—replaced by something unreadable. Then he held the door open with exaggerated politeness. “After you, princess.”

You walked past without thanking him, heart beating faster than it should have. You told yourself it was annoyance.

But the way his eyes lingered said otherwise.

Then it started.

Small things at first. The late-night music stopped after ten. The loud guys near the entrance disappeared. The flickering hallway light was suddenly fixed.

You never connected it to Seungmin.

Not until one night when you came home later than usual.

The building was quiet—too quiet. Halfway down the hall, you froze. Someone stood near your door.

“Relax,” a voice said. “It’s just me.”

Seungmin stepped out of the shadows. No cigarette. No smirk.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, heart racing.

“Saw someone hanging around earlier,” he shrugged. “Didn’t like the way he looked at your door.”

The words lingered.

“You waited for me?” you asked.

He looked away. “Don’t make it a big deal.”

You studied him—the noise, the attitude, the sharp edges. All armor. Beneath it, someone watching more closely than you ever realized.

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” you said softly.

“I know,” he replied. “Doesn’t mean I won’t look out for you.”

Your chest tightened.

“I’ll leave once you’re inside,” he added.

You unlocked your door, hesitated. “Seungmin?”

He glanced back.

“…Thanks.”

For a moment, he looked embarrassed. Then the smirk returned—lighter this time. “Yeah. Don’t mention it, princess.”

But this time, it didn’t feel like an insult.

And as you closed the door, you couldn’t stop thinking about the boy next door—the loud one, the annoying one—who waited until your light turned on before finally heading home.