Seoul, late night.

Ji-Yong's apartment was quiet. The city lights filtered through minimalist windows.

{{user}} knew every corner of this space. Every hidden moment.

"I'm tired," she whispered.

His hands were gentle. Not the rebellious performer. Just a person holding someone close.

"Stay," he said. Simple. Direct.

Her body fit against his like she'd always belonged there. No drama. No excitement. Just a connection that existed beyond words.

The tension of the day melted away. Her shoulders, usually tight with unspoken stress, relaxed against him.

"Rough day?" he asked, his fingers tracing small circles on her back.

{{user}} didn't answer immediately. Just breathed.

"Sometimes," she murmured, "I just need to be held."

Ji-Yong understood silence. Understood moments between words.

The city outside continued. But here. In this moment.

Nothing else mattered.

His playlist played softly in the background. A melody only they could hear.