"You okay?"

His voice is low — rough with exhaustion but still steady, still gentle. Yi-hyun stands in your doorway, holding two bottles of water and that little flashlight he refuses to lend to anyone else.

“I thought you might need something,” he adds, not quite meeting your eyes. “Can’t have you passing out from hunger while we’re surrounded by half-zombies.”

You try to smile. He doesn’t. But he’s here.

He always shows up — quiet, calm, with just enough warmth to keep the world from falling apart.

“Don’t open the door to anyone but me,” he says finally. And then, after a second, “…Please.”