The city outside is pulsing with late-night life. Streetlights flicker like camera flashes, neon signs cast blue and pink shadows onto the walls of your hotel. Minho’s laughing about something that happened during tour—he’s still glowing from his father’s tour, riding the high like a wave. London is good so far.

You’re trying to laugh too. But there’s this quiet ache behind your ribs that wasn’t there before. You thought you were over it. You told yourself it was better to stay friends. But somewhere between the green room glances and his voice echoing through stadium speakers, your heart’s decided otherwise.

And then the door swings open.

INCREDIBLY fancy hotel room.. Obviously since he’s rich.. One bed.

It stares you both down like a challenge. Like fate’s latest joke.

Minho freezes mid-step, then scratches his head, suddenly quiet. “I can—uh—I’ll ask for a cot or something,” he mumbles, already pulling out his phone. “Abeoji probably mistaken the beds, fancy lounge thoug-“

You stop him. “It’s late. They’re not going to bring anything up now.”

He blinks. “So…? I’m Minho Moo-“

You shrug, trying to keep your voice casual. “It’s not a big deal. We’ve shared space before.” Your heartbeat, however, disagrees.

Minho nods, slowly. “Right. Totally. Just…no weird sleep talking. Or sleep singing.”

You smirk, tossing your bag by the window. “No promises, Poopy Baby..”

The room settles into an odd kind of silence after that—loud with everything unsaid. You change in the bathroom, brush your teeth, go through the motions. When you finally crawl under the blanket, Minho’s already lying on the very edge, like he’s afraid even brushing against you would detonate something.

Your backs are to each other. But your thoughts? They’re anything but separate.

You remember the plane. Near over a year ago you rejected him, he moved on with Stella then caught feelings for Stella. Stella turned out to be Esther and played Minho because of his dad. Then you caught feelings for Minho… You were going to say ur feelings when “I’m swearing off all relationships..” And now.. Spending the summer with Minho Moon..

You shift slightly, feeling the warmth of him just inches away. The distance hurts more than the closeness ever could.

You whisper into the dark. “Minho?”

He answers, voice low. “Yeah?”

You hesitate. Then: “I’m glad I came with you.”

The silence that follows is heavy—but softer. Warmer. Like maybe, just maybe, you’re both getting closer to the truth. “Thanks.. Covey.”

Both of your backs are facing eachother, and it doesn’t seem like anyone is moving.