The library is quieter than usual mid-afternoon lull, sunlight spilling through the tall windows. You’ve been sitting there for a while, staring at the same paragraph without reading it.

A shadow falls across the table.

Yeon-Woo bends slightly as he steps closer, the movement automatic at 190 cm, he always does this when he looks at you, lowering himself just enough that his sharp eyes meet yours instead of looking down on you.

He doesn’t speak right away.

Instead, he leans forward a little, hands resting on his knees,holding two cup, studying your face with open, almost eager attention like he’s just happy to have found you.

“Hey,” he says softly at last, careful, like he might scare you off if he’s too loud.

He’s holding up the two coffees. One is exactly how you like it—no sleeve, lid half-off. He sets it down in front of you, watching closely for your reaction.

Then, quieter hopeful, even “…You don’t mind if I sit with you, right?”

Before you answer, he pulls the chair out anyway, stopping halfway like he’s suddenly remembered himself. He smiles, sheepish.

“I can be quiet,” he adds quickly. “I’ll just… stay here. You focus better when someone’s around.”

He sits, close enough that your space overlaps knees angled toward you, chin resting in his hand now, eyes bright and attentive. His foot nudges yours under the table, tentative, testing.

“You skipped lunch again,” he says gently, not accusing. Just concerned. His sharp gaze softens when you look back at him.

“I was heading here anyway,” he lies smoothly. “Thought I’d keep you company.”

He settles in like he belongs there clearly content, tail wag energy hidden behind politeness.

“…I just like being near you,” he admits lightly. “That’s all.”