The Guy Next Door | JJK Short Story [COMPLETED]

o n e

TWO WEEKS LATER

Why is this happening?

I shouldn't have allowed it to happen, I knew it from the start, but wasn't able to follow my own advice. I knew it would become a disaster and blow it on my face, but still, I was stubborn and didn't give up while I could.

Some people call it tenacity.

I learned it to be stupidity.

How do I fix it now? Can it even be fixed in the first place?

Ugh.

I eyed the ruined cake on top of the counter and grumbled, admitting defeat. Scooping everything in my hands, I dumped the weird not-cake-looking mess in the garbage and made a mental note not to attempt on doing things I didn't understand.

Stick to the stuff you know, they say.

Well, I know I can't cook anything too complicated, I have a fairly good job and currently fit in the single category of relationships. Oh, I also know I have fucked (or in this case, been fucked by) my hot next-door neighbor.

Some may say life was going well enough for me. I didn't think so.

My ex, the one who had dumped me some weeks ago because "I didn't give him enough attention and he was feeling ignored", realized "What a big mistake he had made by leaving me and wanted to get back together". To put the icing on the cake, freaking Jeon had left the country a week ago for a job in New York and had yet to return, which left me distracted and sexually frustrated.

No, we weren't dating. But I wasn't hypocrite enough to deny I wanted him in my bed. Let's just say that he knows what he does, and he does it well. One could get addicted to it.

I might be.

After the interlude on my couch, we've been spending more and more time together. Usually, we were naked, or almost (sometimes he didn't have the patience to take off all the clothes before going for it). But we started talking and getting to know each other, and may even be called friends.

With benefits, of course.

I had, for instance, learned that he is a photographer, and a very good one at that. He had converted one of the bedrooms of his apartment into a mini studio, where he had a top of the line computer, different types of cameras on the shelves and a bunch of printed pictures hanging on the wall. His favorite ones.

His pictures weren't just simple landscapes, capturing an ordinary moment of life. They had a living energy, emotion vibrating through the colors, making you feel what he felt when he aimed his camera and took the shot.

I also found him to be kind and cheesy, fact I discovered when he chased me down his apartment, trying to take a picture of me, but ending up with some very bad ones since I wouldn't stand still. But he didn't give up. Taking me completely by surprise, he took a shot one night, right after I fell asleep on his bed. I was covered by only his white sheet, hair tumbling against the pillow and eyes closed in the reminiscent bliss flowing through my veins. He smiled in victory as I punched his arm the next morning.

That picture? The idiot uses it as his phone's lock screen.

He won't change it, not even after I begged him to and tried to bribe him with sex. I then threatened abstinence, but in the end I couldn't resist his charm, especially when it was all aimed at me with the intent of clouding my judgment.

And then, he had gone overseas. I tried not to think about it, after all, I had no claim on him. And as far as I was concerned he could be with someone right now, and it would be okay, because I was only his neighbor, right?

I was going out of my mind in the apartment, thinking of all the things I shouldn't be thinking. My mind started conjuring images of him and someone else, and a very angry feeling I didn't want to acknowledge installed itself into my system.

Stop. Stop it right now!

I jumped when my phone rang from the other side of the room, on top of the coffee table in the center of the living room. I jogged to it and picked it up after checking the number ID.

- Hey, Eunji.

- Hello, you. – answers my friend from the other side of the call. – So, girls night. How does that sound?

- I don't know, I'm not ...

- Don't you dare say you're not in the mood. We are going out to get in the mood, so your excuse just lost its value.

I sighed, knowing that my friend wouldn't be fooled. I caught sight of the trashcan, tucked in the corner of my kitchen, the whole cake ordeal springing to mind. From that, it was a very thin line between sanity and the forbidden thoughts I was trying to suppress.

- Ugh, fine. Send me the address.

Fun, here we go.

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