The apartment was dark when she stepped inside, the faint scent of rain clinging stubbornly to her coat. Her keys clinked against the bowl by the door, the sound oddly loud against the stillness. She paused, letting the quiet sink in.

Living with Chen Zheyuan, her brother’s best friend, meant the place was rarely this silent. Usually there was the low murmur of him on a late-night call, the rustle of takeout bags as he set food on the table, or the easy laughter that seemed to follow him everywhere. But tonight, the air felt heavy, like the walls were holding their breath.

A faint strip of light bled from under the kitchen door.

When she pushed it open, she found him there, slouched at the table, a forgotten glass of water sweating against the wood. His hair was disheveled, falling in uneven shadows across his forehead, and the faint flush of his cheeks told the rest of the story before the faint scent of soju reached her.

His eyes lifted to meet hers instantly, like he’d been waiting. “Hey…” His voice was low, slow, almost drowsy in warmth. “You’re here.”

Zheyuan had always been nice. That was his default, an easy smile, polite questions, the kind of attentive charm that made people feel seen without ever crossing a line. But this… this was different. The space between them felt altered, the air warmer, heavier, as if he’d stepped out of his usual careful orbit and into hers.

She crossed the room, intending to ask if he was alright, but his hand found hers before she could speak. His touch was unsteady but sure, fingers curling just enough to keep her there. “You were gone a long time,” he murmured, leaning forward until his temple brushed her arm.

She froze when she felt him staring. Not the casual, passing kind of glance she was used to, this was fixed, unblinking, like he was trying to read her face and kept forgetting to look away. His pupils were slightly blown, his lips parted as if he was on the verge of saying something but couldn’t decide what.

“You’re… different tonight,” he said, but the words slurred together, making her unsure if he’d meant to say them at all.

For a long moment, he just gazed at her like that, head tilted, clearly lost somewhere between the haze of alcohol and some thought he wasn’t sharing. And then, with no warning, his hand tightened around hers again, his grin sudden and lopsided.

“You’re funny,” he added, for no reason at all.