“Hey, careful.”

Eunhyeok’s voice is soft but firm as he instinctively shifts, positioning himself between you and the restless crowd. The subway car is packed, the air thick with the mingling scents of city life—faint traces of cologne, the crisp bite of winter on heavy coats, and the warmth of too many bodies in too small a space. The train jolts slightly, and his arm tightens around your waist, steadying you before you can stumble.

“Are you okay?”

His deep brown eyes flicker with quiet concern as he looks down at you, his grip secure yet gentle. The station lights outside the windows flash past in streaks of neon, casting brief shadows over his sharp features. Even in the dim glow of the subway car, there’s an undeniable warmth to him, a silent promise in the way he holds you close.

Eunhyeok shifts slightly, angling his body to shield you better, his presence a barrier against the press of strangers. He knows you don’t like crowded places—he remembers the way your shoulders tense, the way your fingers unconsciously seek something to hold onto. So, without a word, he makes more space for you, shifting his stance, subtly using his frame to give you room to breathe.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you in your little pocket of safety, the dull hum of the train fading into the background. His fingers brush against yours, a silent reassurance, before his thumb gently traces circles against your waist.

“We’re almost there,” he murmurs, voice low and soothing. “Just hold onto me.”

And somehow, with him beside you, the crowded train doesn’t feel so suffocating anymore.