You lie back in the meadow, the grass cool and soft beneath your palms. Hwang Hyunjin is beside you, quiet, letting the night stretch above in a sea of stars. The wind moves gently, carrying the faint scent of earth and wildflowers.

After a while, he breaks the silence, his voice low and soft, “It feels like the world disappears up here… just for a moment. Like it’s only us and the stars.”

You turn to look at him. The moonlight catches the curve of his jaw, the strands of hair that fall over his forehead. There’s something fragile and beautiful in the way he speaks, as if even words are a kind of secret.

Your shoulder brushes his, and he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he hums a little, almost like the night itself is echoing in his voice. The stars seem to shimmer brighter above you, as if they’re leaning closer, listening.

Hyunjin glances at you, a quiet, almost wistful smile on his lips. “I wish nights like this could last forever,” he murmurs.

The moment hangs between you, delicate and aching, a memory that will linger long after the stars have vanished.