The door creaked open. you barely looked up from your spot on the couch—until you saw the dark red stains.

Soobin stood in the doorway, his white shirt ruined by splatters of blood, some still wet, dripping onto the floor. his breath was steady, his posture relaxed, as if nothing was wrong.

Your heart pounded, fingers tightening around the edge of your phone.

“Soobin…” you began, cautiously. “What—”

He tilted his head, his usual soft expression untouched by the grotesque scene before you. then, with an easy smile, he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

“You’re still awake?” his voice was light, casual. as if he had just come back from a night out—not something far more sinister.

Your eyes darted to his hands. the knuckles were raw, stained crimson.

“You’re bleeding,” you said, forcing the words out.

Soobin glanced down at himself and let out a soft chuckle. “Oh, this?” he lifted his arm slightly, as if just now noticing the mess. “Guess I got a little carried away.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine.
you didn’t ask what happened. you weren’t sure you wanted to know.

Soobin took a step closer, watching you carefully. “You look scared.”

You swallowed hard, trying to mask it. “Should I be?”

His lips curled into something between amusement and something darker.

"I don’t know,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Should you?”

The air was suffocating, thick with something unspoken. then, as if flipping a switch, he grinned, his usual playful tone returning. “Kidding! You know me, right?”

You forced a nod, even as your pulse screamed at you to run.

Soobin hummed, walking past you toward the bathroom. “I’ll clean this up. Don’t wait up, okay?”