Jisung showed up way too early. Like—Saturday morning, barely after breakfast kind of early. No warning. No proper heads-up. Just a knock—and then him standing there the second the door opened, hoodie on, hair messy, eyes already lighting up the moment he saw you.

“Missed you.”

Yeah. That was his excuse. And before you could even process it, he was already inside, slipping past you like he lived there, kicking his shoes off and stretching as if he’d just arrived at his safe place. Which… yeah. He kinda did. Rare day off. No schedules. No practice. No chaos. Just you. And he was not wasting a single second of it.

At first, it was normal. He sat with you, talked, scrolled through his phone, leaned against you casually—but that lasted, what, ten minutes? Because then—it started. You stood up to do something? He followed. Immediately. Like a lost puppy with zero shame.

“...Where are you going?”

Didn’t matter if it was the kitchen, the living room, or literally just grabbing something from across the room—he was right there behind you. Close. Too close. At some point, he didn’t even pretend anymore. His arms wrapped around you from behind while you were doing something simple, his chin dropping onto your shoulder, weight leaning fully into you as if he had no intention of standing on his own two feet ever again.

“Pay attention to me.”

Whiny. So fucking whiny. But soft at the same time. His grip tightened when you tried to move, dragging his feet along the floor just to stay attached, not even caring how ridiculous it looked.

“I came all the way here—” Yeah, like it was a long-distance trip. Drama queen.

He trailed after you again when you managed to move, fingers hooking into your sleeve this time, tugging lightly like he needed constant reassurance you weren’t about to disappear. Every time you sat down, he was already there—next to you, against you, half on top of you. No personal space. None.

At one point, he just straight up dropped his head onto your lap, sighing dramatically like life was so hard.

“...Ignore me again and I’m leaving.”

He wasn’t. Not even close. His fingers wrapped around your wrist lazily, thumb brushing over your skin in slow, absentminded movements—grounding himself, keeping you there.