It felt like the night itself had been split in half.
The moment Min-Cheol walked away, the air outside Seon-woo's house didn't return to normal. It stayed heavy, frozen with whatever Min-Cheol had seen in their eyes. Seon-Woo didn't say anything while walking back inside, and Ji-Hyun didn't ask. The silence wrapped around them like a blanket they both pretended not to notice.
When Ji-Hyun closed the door behind them, the click sounded too loud.
Seon-Woo finally exhaled.
"Sorry," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Didn't mean to… show up like that in front of him."
Ji-Hyun shook her head. "It's not your fault. He's the one who showed up uninvited."
But even she couldn't ignore the strange tension humming in the air. Min-Cheol's face flashed in her mind — the shock, the jealousy, the way his gaze flicked from her to Seon-Woo like he was putting together a puzzle he didn't want to solve.
Seon-Woo must've sensed her thoughts, because he cleared his throat and stepped back slightly.
"You should sleep," he said quietly. "It's late."
She nodded even though her heart was still beating too fast.
He was already heading toward the couch.
"Wait," Ji-Hyun said.
Seon-Woo paused mid-step and turned. His messy hair fell over his forehead, casting a soft shadow over his eyes.
"You can sleep on the bed," she said. "I'll take the couch this time."
His eyebrows lifted. "Why would I take your bed?"
"Because you're injured—"
"I'm not anymore."
"But still—"
"I'm fine," he said, softer. "You take the bed."
There it was again — that gentle stubbornness of his. The kind that made her breath catch a little.
Ji-Hyun crossed her arms. "I'm not letting you sleep uncomfortably after everything today."
His lip twitched like he was holding back a smile. "Then what, we argue until morning?"
"Maybe."
They stared at each other, neither backing down.
Finally, Seon-Woo sighed. "Okay, fine. But we're not switching."
"How does that—"
"We share," he said, eyes steady on hers.
Ji-Hyun froze.
For a moment she forgot how to breathe. Shared? The bed wasn't huge. They would practically be—
She swallowed.
Seon-Woo must've realized what he said because he added quickly, "Only if you're comfortable. I just… don't want you sleeping on that couch. It'll kill your back."
Ji-Hyun looked away so he wouldn't see the way her cheeks heated. "It's… fine. We can share. As long as you don't take all the blanket."
His eyes softened. "Deal."
Five minutes later
The room was dim, only the faint glow of the moon slipping past the curtains. The air felt different — too quiet, almost expectant. Ji-Hyun sat on the bed first, her fingers twisting the blanket nervously.
Seon-Woo walked in slower than usual, like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to breathe normally. He took the left side, leaving space between them — enough to be polite, not enough to calm her racing heart.
"You okay?" he asked, noticing how tense she looked.
"Yeah," she whispered. "Just… today was a lot."
"Yeah," he agreed softly.
Ji-Hyun slipped under the blanket. Seon-Woo did the same, careful not to brush against her. They lay on their backs, staring at the ceiling as though the simple act of looking at each other would be too much.
"About earlier…" Ji-Hyun began.
"You mean before Min-Cheol interrupted?" Seon-Woo said, his voice low.
Her breath hitched. "Yeah."
The memory burned vividly. Their faces close. His hand resting near hers. Her heart pounding loud enough to drown out the whole world.
"I wasn't going to do anything you didn't want," he added. "I just—"
"I know," Ji-Hyun whispered. "I wasn't stopping you."
Silence.
Not the awkward kind. The kind that carried a spark.
Seon-Woo slowly turned onto his side. Ji-Hyun could feel his gaze even before she looked at him.
When she finally did, she regretted it instantly — or maybe she didn't.
Because Seon-Woo's eyes were soft but intense, reflecting the faint blue of the moonlight like molten silver. His expression wasn't unsure, or confused, or hesitant.
He looked like someone who had wanted to be here for a long time.
Ji-Hyun's chest tightened.
"Ji-Hyun," he murmured.
The way he said her name felt like a question and an answer at once.
She turned toward him, closing the small distance between them by instinct rather than intention. Their foreheads almost brushed. A shared breath lingered between their lips.
And then—
Very gently—
Seon-Woo lifted a hand, pausing just before touching her cheek, giving her every chance to pull away.
She didn't.
Her eyes fluttered shut.
And in the quietest moment of the night, their lips met.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't messy or frantic.
It was slow, deepening naturally as if they had both been waiting for this exact moment without saying it aloud.
A long, breath-stealing kiss that made the world outside that small bed disappear.
No noise.
No thoughts.
Just the quiet feeling of finally, finally letting themselves be honest for once.
When they parted, neither moved away. Their foreheads rested against each other, breaths mingling.
Ji-Hyun let out a shaky exhale. "Why does this feel… dangerous?"
Seon-Woo whispered, "Because it means something."
Her heart tumbled into itself.
"That's the problem," she murmured. "We have rules."
His voice was barely audible. "Then break them."
Ji-Hyun's breath caught again. "Seon-Woo…"
"I'm not asking for anything," he said quietly. "Not a relationship. Not a promise. Not something you're not ready for. I just…"
He swallowed.
"I just want to be honest with you. Even if it's only for tonight."
Ji-Hyun didn't know whether her heart was betraying her or saving her.
Because she felt the exact same thing.
She reached out, touching his hand under the blanket. Not fully holding it, just resting her fingers against his. A silent confession.
Seon-Woo's breath hitched.
And for a moment, they just lay there — close enough that every breath felt shared, warm enough that neither dared move.
"What if Min-Cheol comes back?" she whispered.
"He won't," Seon-Woo replied.
"What if he does?"
"Then I'll deal with it."
"You?" she repeated, surprised.
Seon-Woo nodded. "He hurt you. He doesn't get to walk in and decide things anymore."
Ji-Hyun's eyes softened. "It still bothers you… doesn't it?"
"When I saw him standing there, looking at you like you still belonged to him…"
His jaw tightened.
"I didn't like it."
Her heart skipped painfully. "You sound jealous."
"I was," he said simply.
Ji-Hyun blinked fast. "You're not supposed to be."
"I know."
"Then why…?"
"Because I care," he admitted softly. "More than I meant to."
Ji-Hyun's pulse stuttered.
And suddenly the blanket, the bed, the proximity — it all felt too real. Too intimate. Too much like something they had pretended not to want.
Her voice trembled. "Seon-Woo, if we keep going like this… the rules won't matter at all."
"Then let them break."
Ji-Hyun didn't have an answer — not one she dared say out loud. Instead, she shifted even closer, until their noses nearly touched again.
Seon-Woo brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. "Sleep," he whispered.
"I can't," she whispered back.
"Why not?"
"Because you're—" She stopped herself before saying too much. But Seon-Woo understood.
He gave a soft smile. "I'll stay right here."
And he did.
Later that night
Ji-Hyun wasn't sure when she drifted between half-sleep and waking. But every time she blinked open her eyes, Seon-Woo was there.
Not touching her.
Not pulling her in.
Just there.
Warm.
Close.
Steady.
At one point, she shifted in her sleep and accidentally nestled closer to him. Her hand ended up lightly resting over his chest.
Seon-Woo froze for a moment — then relaxed and let her stay exactly like that.
Another hour passed.
Ji-Hyun murmured something unintelligible in her sleep.
Then she whispered, barely audible, "Don't go…"
Seon-Woo's eyes softened painfully.
"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered back, even though she couldn't hear him.
His hand carefully brushed her hair again — a touch so light it barely existed.
And Ji-Hyun smiled faintly in her sleep.
Dawn
When morning light slipped into the room, warm and soft, Ji-Hyun blinked awake slowly.
Her head was resting on Seon-Woo's shoulder.
Her hand was still over his chest.
And Seon-Woo was already awake — looking at her with an expression that made her heart feel like it might fall apart and come together all at the same time.
"Morning," she whispered, voice hoarse.
"Morning," he whispered back.
Neither moved.
Neither rushed to explain.
Silence filled the room again — but this time it wasn't heavy. It was quiet, warm, peaceful.
Finally, Ji-Hyun pulled back slightly, cheeks heating up. "We should… get up."
He nodded, but didn't move. "Yeah."
Neither of them moved for several more seconds.
Ji-Hyun couldn't tell if last night changed everything or nothing at all.
But Seon-Woo did one thing before she could stand — one small thing that made her heart lift then fall at the same time.
He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently.
Not a promise.
Not a confession.
Just a quiet, honest truth.
"Last night," he said softly, "was real."
Ji-Hyun didn't trust her voice enough to reply.
So she squeezed his hand back.
Because that was real too.