The key clicked in the lock.
Min-Jae pushed open the hotel room door, Ji-Hoon right behind him, slightly unsteady, a lazy smile playing on his lips.
"Should've come back earlier," Min-Jae mumbled, throwing his bag on the chair.
"You say that every time," Ji-Hoon replied with a soft chuckle.
They laughed, but silence followed—heavy, loaded. The kind that said too much without a word.
The room was simple: two single beds placed side by side, a narrow space between them, dim light casting golden tones across the sheets.
Min-Jae stretched, shirt lifting just enough to show the skin of his stomach. Ji-Hoon looked away quickly, throat tightening.
"I'm showering," Min-Jae said, disappearing into the bathroom.
Ji-Hoon sat on the bed, shirt off, shoulders tense. The air felt too warm. Too close. He could still smell Min-Jae's cologne on his own skin, still feel the ghost of his fingers from earlier—laughing at the bar, brushing arms too many times.
When Min-Jae returned, hair damp, shirtless, wearing nothing but joggers... something shifted.
"You're not showering?" he asked.
"Too tired," Ji-Hoon muttered.
They slid under the covers. Beds side by side, only inches apart.
"Remember on school trips, when we used to share a bed?" Min-Jae asked softly.
Ji-Hoon glanced sideways. "You used to steal all the blankets."
"You used to grind in your sleep."
Silence.
A nervous laugh.
Their hands nearly touched on the sheets. Neither of them moved. But everything had already started.