BEAT's POV:

Finally, today is the day. I'm moving to a new city-a big city. It's the first time since childhood that I'm leaving my beloved village behind. I've just passed my tenth standard, and now it's time to take the next big step toward my future. As excited as I should be, my heart feels heavy. I'm leaving my grandparents, my friends, and all the familiar comforts I've known for so long.

Thankfully, Mom is moving with me not fully but for some days. I guess they didn't want me to stay alone in an unfamiliar place. Dad is already in the city, waiting for us. He's been working there for years and recently rented a place for us to stay. My mind is a mix of emotions-hope, fear, and sadness. Will I be able to make new friends? Will I fit in? I keep telling myself that everything will work out.

After a grueling 12-hour bus ride, we finally arrive. My back is sore, and I can barely keep my eyes open. Standing at the gate of society, I take a moment to absorb the sight. There are many buildings with many floors, but our building is in the back of all the buildings, and my building had only 3 floors. It's a three-story building with big windows and a simple yet elegant design.

As we step inside, we're greeted by an elderly woman with a warm, bright smile. Through Dad, I learn that she's our landlord. We'll be living on the first floor of the house, which turns out to be bigger than I expected. Two bedrooms, a spacious hall, and a large kitchen-honestly, it's more than enough.

The best part? I finally have my own room! In the village, I always shared a bed with my grandparents or cousins, but this is different. It feels... personal.

Although I'm exhausted, the room is a complete mess, so we spend hours cleaning and unpacking. Mom quickly whips up some rice and curry for dinner, and we all sit down for our first meal in the new house. The food tastes like home-a small comfort amidst all the change.

Later, after a much-needed nap, I wake up and dive into my gaming setup. I'm a pro-national gamer, after all, and daily practice isn't optional. Next year's gaming tournament is my goal, and I can't afford to slack off, no matter how tired I feel.

As the evening unfolds, our landlord stops by to introduce herself properly. She mentions that she lives on the third floor and informs us that another family rents the second floor. Then, she starts listing a whole set of house rules-no noise, no disturbances, no late-night activity.

I can't help but feel a wave of irritation. Noise? Disturbances? I'm a gamer for crying out loud! This is going to be an issue. I bite my tongue, but inside, I'm already annoyed.

Just when I think she's done lecturing us, she adds one final piece of information. She'll be traveling to the USA next week to visit her son and won't be back for six months. A wave of relief washes over me. Six months of peace? I'll take it.

BEAT'S POV

I was sleeping soundly, still exhausted from all the unpacking yesterday. Suddenly, my eyes snapped open, startled by a loud disturbance. I squinted at the clock-it was already 8 a.m. The noise was coming from outside. Groggily, I shuffled to the window and peeked through the curtains.

A woman was hanging wet clothes on a rope strung across the yard. A tall, thin boy was helping her, and they were chatting loudly, their voices echoing in the quiet morning.

Really? I thought to myself. Just yesterday, the landlord had specifically warned us not to make noise because the second-floor renters didn't like that kind of behavior. Now here they were, breaking their own rule. The irony wasn't lost on me.

Before I could grumble any further, Mom walked into my room. "Get up and freshen up," she said briskly. Reluctantly, I dragged myself out of bed and headed to the washroom.

At breakfast, we gathered around the dining table. Dad casually mentioned that Mom would be applying for a job at his office and that they'd both be heading out today. For a moment, I felt neglected-left behind yet again. But then Dad added something that caught my attention.

"I've already chosen a high school for you," he said. "Tomorrow, I'll take you to your new school."

That small announcement sparked a flicker of excitement. A new school meant new opportunities, new people, maybe even a fresh start.

After my parents left, I spent the next three hours gaming, trying to distract myself. But the truth was, I was bored. I missed my friends back in the village-our silly jokes, the way we'd hang out for hours. Needing a change of scenery, I decided to step outside.

In the garden, I spotted the landlord snipping flowers. She noticed me immediately and called me over. At first, we exchanged polite small talk, and for a brief moment, I thought she wasn't as bad as I'd assumed. Then she asked for my help.

Great. Just great.

I'm not exactly thrilled when it comes to household chores, but I couldn't refuse. Begrudgingly, I helped her with the flowers while she peppered me with questions about my studies. I answered without much enthusiasm, but when she asked for the name of my high school, I froze.

Dad hadn't told me the name. All I knew was that it was near his office. So, I said exactly that.

To my surprise, she immediately recognized the school. "Oh! That's the same school the boy on the second floor attends," she exclaimed.

My mind flashed back to the boy I'd seen earlier. She went on to gush about him like he was a local celebrity. "You should be friends with him," she said, smiling. "He's very talented, popular, and hardworking. Everyone loves him!"

The way she talked about him irritated me. It wasn't jealousy-well, maybe just a little-but it was the way she kept piling on adjectives. Handsome. Charming. Intelligent. Ugh, enough already!

Trying to stop her from rambling, I casually asked, "What's his name?"

"Heart," she said with a proud smile.

What a coincidence! His name was Heart. And mine? beat.

Of course, she didn't stop there. She immediately pointed out how our names sounded like a perfect match. "Oh, how cute! Heart and Beat, Heartbeat!" she teased, grinning mischievously.

I regretted asking her anything at all. She started teasing me relentlessly, her voice dripping with playful insinuations. "Are you interested in him, hmm?"

Her comment made my stomach churn. I could feel my face flush with irritation. What was wrong with her today? It was like she'd binge-watched one too many BL dramas and now she was casting me in one of her fantasies.

Barely managing to hold my composure, I muttered an excuse and escaped back to my room. I needed to get away from her teasing and from this bizarre morning altogether.

Back in my room, I flopped onto my bed and closed my eyes, willing the awkwardness to fade. Before I knew it, sleep took over, giving me a much-needed break from the chaos of the day.

BEAT'S POV

When I woke up, I realized my parents had already returned. To my surprise, they had brought back a ridiculous amount of sweets. Curious, I asked Mom about them. She smiled and explained that the sweets were for the landlord and the second-floor renters. "We just arrived here; we need to build good relations," she said casually.

But then she dropped the bombshell: I'm the one who has to deliver the sweets.

Oh, great. Just great. Why are my parents like this? They know that, while I can be outgoing, this is a completely new environment for me, and I feel awkward as it is. Yet they seem to take pleasure in pushing me out of my comfort zone.

Reluctantly, I took the box of sweets and went up to the landlord's door. Ringing the bell, I braced myself. She opened the door with her ever-present bright smile, but before she could say a word, I shoved the sweets into her hands, muttered a quick greeting, and bolted downstairs.

I knew I'd left her stunned. But I also knew if I let her start a conversation, she'd inevitably bring up the boy on the second floor again. I wasn't in the mood for her teasing.

Next, I headed to the second floor. Standing outside their door, I hesitated, feeling my palms get clammy. What if they were as talkative as the landlord? Or worse, what if they thought I was weird? My heart was pounding as I rang the bell.

The door opened, and the woman I'd seen that morning greeted me with a friendly smile. I awkwardly returned the gesture and handed her the sweets. She invited me inside, and though I wanted to refuse, politeness got the better of me.

Her home was clean and cozy, with a warm atmosphere. In the middle of the hall, a little girl-barely three and a half years old-was playing with her toys. I sat stiffly on the sofa, unsure of how to interact. I've never been great with kids. Being an only child, I didn't grow up surrounded by them. Even my village friends didn't have siblings, so I wasn't used to this kind of energy.

When the little girl saw me, her face lit up, and she toddled over, trying to climb onto my lap. Caught off guard, I panicked internally. What do I do? What do I say? After a moment, I managed a big smile and gave her a gentle hug. She seemed happy with that, but I still felt awkward.

I noticed the boy from the second floor wasn't there. It was just the woman and her child. She disappeared into the kitchen for a while and returned with a small plate of snacks. Normally, I avoid eating at other people's homes, but she insisted so much that I felt compelled to take a few bites.

As we chatted, she told me to call her "Sister," saying I am at the same age as her younger brother. Without thinking, I asked about him. Her face softened as she explained that he'd gone out to celebrate a friend's birthday.

The moment the words left my mouth, I felt embarrassed. Why did I ask that? My curiosity about her brother felt misplaced, and I scolded myself internally. Still, I kept my composure and politely asked for permission to leave, citing the time.

As I descended the stairs, my thoughts were a whirlwind. I couldn't stop replaying the awkward moments of the conversation. I was so lost in my own head that I almost didn't notice someone passing me on the staircase.

It was a boy.

He was tall-maybe two inches taller than me-and undeniably striking. His sharp jawline looked as if it had been chiseled by an artist. His eyes, even in that brief glimpse, were mesmerizing. His frame was lean but athletic, and his posture was confident and effortless.

Wait. Was this... him?

I froze for a split second. This had to be the boy from the second floor.

He walked past me without so much as a glance, his expression unreadable. His aloofness only added to his air of mystery.

What the heck am I thinking? Why am I noticing so much about him?

Shaking my head, I tried to brush it off. This sudden interest in him was probably just the landlord's words lingering in my mind. Or maybe it was the odd coincidence of our names.

Still, I couldn't deny the truth: he'd left an impression.

As I stepped into my room and closed the door, I found myself thinking about him again. What's his deal? I couldn't help but wonder.