Ji-Hyun woke up to the soft hush of the ceiling fan and the faint glow seeping through the curtains. For a second, she didn't remember where she was. The room was unfamiliar, warm, and peaceful in a way the bedroom rarely felt.
Then she noticed Seon-Woo.
He was still asleep beside her, breathing evenly, one arm loosely draped near where she had been lying earlier. His hair was slightly messy, his expression completely relaxed. It was the kind of calm she rarely saw on him during the day.
She blinked and carefully sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her throat felt dry — probably from all the talking they'd done before falling asleep.
She slid off the bed quietly so she wouldn't wake him and padded toward the kitchen.
The apartment was silent except for the distant hum of the fridge. She filled a glass with water, the coolness already soothing her.
She had barely taken two sips when she heard soft footsteps.
Seon-Woo, still half-asleep, leaned against the doorway.
"You left," he murmured.
Ji-Hyun almost choked on her water. "I just came to drink— what are you doing awake?"
"You weren't there," he said simply, as if that answered everything.
She stared at him. "…You woke up just because of that?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "It felt weird. The room was cold suddenly."
"And that's my fault?" she scoffed.
He stepped closer. "Yes. Obviously."
She rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. He noticed — of course he did — and the corner of his mouth lifted.
"You look more awake than me," he said softly. "Couldn't sleep?"
"I slept fine. I just needed water."
He nodded, then glanced toward the sink. "Give me that."
She handed him the glass. Their fingers brushed lightly. Neither of them mentioned it.
He drank, placed the glass down, and then leaned beside her, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
Ji-Hyun hesitated. In the dim kitchen light, his voice sounded different — less teasing, more genuine.
"Yeah," she said. "Just… thinking."
"About?"
"Nothing important."
He studied her face as if trying to read what she wasn't saying. Then he exhaled lightly.
"You always say that."
"Because it's true."
"No," he said, shaking his head. "You just don't want to tell me."
She turned to him. "And why do you want to know everything?"
"Because I care," he said, simple and straightforward.
Something in her chest tightened. She wasn't expecting that answer. Not at 2 a.m. Not in a quiet kitchen where every word sounded louder.
She looked away first.
"…You don't have to say things like that," she muttered.
"But I mean them."
Silence settled between them—not awkward, just full of something neither of them fully understood yet.
He stepped slightly closer, voice dropping. "You keep running away from things like that."
"I'm not running," she whispered.
"Then don't look away."
Slowly, cautiously, she lifted her gaze back to him.
His eyes held hers, steady and warm under the faint kitchen lights. The air felt different—still, heavy, like everything around them paused and waited.
"You're doing it again," he murmured.
"Doing what?"
"Looking at me like that."
She opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out. He was close now—closer than he had been a minute ago—but it wasn't rushed. It wasn't forced. Just… natural, as if being near her was something he didn't have to think about anymore.
"Ji-Hyun," he said gently.
She didn't know if he was calling her or warning himself.
And she didn't know why, but she didn't step back.
His hand brushed her sleeve — just a light touch. Not pulling her, not holding her — just there.
The kind of touch that asked a question.
She didn't move away.
Something softened in his expression.
And then, without either of them saying anything else, he leaned in and kissed her — a quiet, warm kiss that felt less like an impulse and more like something that had been building since the night started.
They pulled back just a little, both of them breathless in the silence.
"…Why did we do that?" she whispered.
"I have no idea," he admitted, a small, helpless laugh leaving him. "But I'm not complaining."
Ji-Hyun looked down, cheeks warm. "We should go back to sleep."
"Yeah," he murmured. "Before one of us does something even more confusing."
She shot him a look. "That's you, not me."
"Sure," he said, smirking, "keep telling yourself that."
They walked back to his room together — not touching, not talking, but the distance between them felt different now. Softer. Warmer. As if the quiet itself had changed.
When they lay back down, facing opposite directions but close enough to feel the warmth of the other, Seon-Woo whispered one more thing:
"Don't disappear again while I'm asleep."
"…Why?"
"Because the bed gets cold,
" he murmured. "And I don't like it."
She didn't answer.
But she didn't move away either.
And somehow, that said more than anything else.