The café in Gangnam felt almost suspended in time that afternoon. Outside, the city moved in its usual rhythm, but here, only a few young couples lingered over their drinks, their voices low, and small groups of friends shared muted laughter in the corners. The air smelled faintly of coffee and vanilla, the soft hum of background music wrapping the space in a kind of quiet warmth.

You sat across from Heeseung, the sunlight from the wide glass window casting a mellow glow over the table between you. He leaned forward slightly, his presence filling the space in a way that made it feel like the rest of the café had faded away. His hand reached for yours, warm and sure, his thumb moving in slow, deliberate circles over your skin.

His gaze was fixed—dark brown eyes, deep and gentle, yet glinting with something you couldn’t quite name. There was the faintest upward curve to his lips, a smile tinged with both hesitation and certainty, as though he was weighing the moment carefully in his mind. He let out a soft breath, the kind that carried both nerves and intent.

“Have you ever kissed?” His voice was quiet but steady. Then, without looking away, he added,“If not… I want to be your first.”

His thumb kept tracing those circles, slower now, as if anchoring himself to the touch. Outside, a bus rolled by, the sound barely registering. In that moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to the space between you and him.