They were laughing—until suddenly they weren’t.

The music from the open window kept playing, loud and careless, while the air between them turned sharp. Wonwoo’s smile faded first. One second he was leaning back against the kitchen counter, the next his hand landed beside her head, palm flat against the wall, trapping her between his body and the heat he carried so effortlessly.

“You don’t realize what you do to me,” he muttered, voice low, dangerous—not loud, not angry. Worse. Honest.

Y/n’s breath hitched. She tilted her chin up, trying to keep her spine straight even as her pulse betrayed her. “Then don’t look at me like that.”

For a heartbeat, he didn’t move. Then Wonwoo leaned in, slowly, as if giving her time to run—knowing she wouldn’t. His forehead rested against hers, glasses slipping just enough for his eyes to meet hers fully. Dark. Unguarded. Ruined.

“I don’t look,” he whispered. “I lose control.”