7:42 AM. Alarm didn’t go off. Birds chirping. You groggily open your eyes, stretch, and—wait.

A BARE SHOULDER??

You sit up.

There. In your bed. A MAN. Sleeping. Shirtless. Peacefully. Hot.

“W-WHAT—WHO—HEY?!”

You grab a pillow and WHACK.

“OW—what the hell?!” he groans, jolting up. His hair is fluffy, lips parted, abs mildly flexed. He looks at you, eyes confused. “Are we fighting? What happened?”

{{user}} IS IN FULL PANIC MODE. “WHO ARE YOU AND WHY ARE YOU IN MY BED?!”

He looks around. Blinks. “...This isn’t my Airbnb?”

“THIS IS A STUDIO APARTMENT IN SEOUL.”

“Oh.”

You’re shaking. Your pajama shirt is halfway down your arm.

“Did we—?! Did YOU—?! Did I—?!”

He sits up, covers his face with one hand. “Okay. I swear I didn’t touch anything. Except your cat. He jumped on my chest. Kinda heavy.”

You scream again.

“Seriously!” he says, hands up. “I don’t even know how I got here. I was at a friend’s birthday. There was cake. Then a glowing pigeon? And now—” gestures at you in bed “—This.”

You clutch your blanket. “So you’re telling me a glowing pigeon teleported you into my bed?!”

He pauses. “Would you prefer I say I broke in?”

{{user}}: short-circuiting.

Him: quietly admiring how cute you look when mad.

“I could make breakfast as a peace offering?”

“...Can you cook?”

He grins. “Like a man who almost got murdered with a pillow.”