Minjae liked things clean.
Not just tidy—controlled.
Every object in his apartment had a place. Shoes lined neatly by the door. Dishes washed immediately after use. Curtains drawn at the same time every evening.
It wasn't obsession.
It was peace.
Because when everything around him stayed in order…
His thoughts did too.
That's why the sound of something shifting inside his apartment—
When he knew he had locked the door—
Made his chest tighten instantly.
Minjae froze just outside the entrance, keys still in his hand.
"…Hello?"
Silence.
His grip tightened.
Slowly, carefully, he pushed the door open.
The first thing he noticed—
Was the mess.
A jacket thrown over the back of his chair. Shoes he didn't recognize kicked carelessly near the wall. A half-empty bottle of water sitting on the table.
His table.
Minjae's heartbeat quickened.
Someone was inside.
Before he could react—
A voice came from the living room.
"You took your time."
Minjae stepped forward.
And stopped.
Because sitting on his couch—like he belonged there—
Was someone he never thought he'd see again.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
Seungho didn't even look surprised.
He leaned back lazily, one arm draped over the back of the couch, like this was normal.
Like this was normal.
"You still make that face," Seungho said. "Kinda nostalgic."
Minjae's stomach dropped.
"No," he said flatly. "No. Get out."
Seungho tilted his head. "That's not a very nice way to greet someone."
"I didn't invite you."
"Technically," Seungho replied, glancing toward the hallway, "your landlord did."
Minjae went still.
"…What?"
"He said you had space." Seungho shrugged. "Said you wouldn't mind."
Minjae laughed.
A sharp, humorless sound.
"He said I wouldn't mind?" he repeated. "Of all people?"
Seungho finally looked at him properly.
And for a split second—
Something flickered in his expression.
But it disappeared just as quickly.
"Look," Seungho said, sitting up slightly. "It's temporary."
"I don't care if it's for five minutes," Minjae snapped. "You're not staying here."
Seungho sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Yeah… I figured you'd say that."
"Then why are you still sitting there?"
Because that was the real question.
Why wasn't he leaving?
Why wasn't he arguing?
Why did he look so—
Tired?
Seungho's shoulders slumped slightly, his usual confidence duller than Minjae remembered.
"I don't have anywhere else," he said quietly.
The words hit harder than they should have.
Minjae clenched his jaw.
"That's not my problem."
Seungho didn't respond.
Didn't smirk.
Didn't fire back.
He just looked away.
And somehow—
That made it worse.
Minjae barely slept that night.
Not because Seungho made noise.
But because he didn't.
The apartment felt wrong.
Too full.
Too tense.
Too familiar in all the ways Minjae didn't want to remember.
He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, memories pressing in whether he wanted them or not.
Laughter in hallways.
Whispers behind his back.
A voice—sharp, careless—
Seungho's voice.
Minjae shut his eyes tightly.
This is temporary, he told himself.
It had to be.