The penthouse falls quiet after the door closes—not empty, just unfamiliar. Boxes line the wall, some marked in his handwriting, others in Woojin’s, their names sharing space like they’re still adjusting to each other. Woojin sets his bag down and glances at him without meaning to, scanning for tension or second thoughts. Living together feels heavier than the ceremony ever did

He moves carefully through the room, and Woojin forces himself not to hover. This is his home too now. He opens a window, letting fresh air in, giving him space instead of questions. Woojin doesn’t want this to feel like someone being absorbed into another life—he wants it to feel shared, even if it starts uncertain.

“Take whichever room you’re more comfortable with,” Woojin says. “If you want the bed to yourself for now, that’s fine.” “We can go at your pace,” he adds quietly. “I don’t want to rush this... Especially not with you.”