The morning sun streamed into the shrine's kitchen, warming the rustic wooden counters. Rinwoo stood at the deep stone sink, methodically washing the breakfast bowls. His movements were calm, but there was a slight tremor in his hands that hadn't been there before, a fragility that made every motion seem deliberate.
Beom Seok wandered in, drying a pot with a cloth. He watched Rinwoo for a moment, his heart doing a familiar, fluttering squeeze. The way the light caught the curve of Rinwoo's neck as he bent over the sink, the quiet concentration on his face—it was enough to make Beom Seok's cheeks warm.
"Here, let me help," Beom Seok said, his voice a little too bright. He moved to stand beside Rinwoo at the sink, their shoulders almost brushing. The proximity sent a jolt through him.
Rinwoo smiled softly, not looking up from the soapy water. "You don't have to. I've got it."
