The arcade buzzes with flashing lights and the clatter of tokens dropping into machines. Your hands tighten around the joystick, determination fueling your every move as the claw descends, grips the plush, and—miraculously—doesn’t let go.

"I got it!" you gasp, your heart leaping in excitement as the soft toy tumbles into the prize slot. You turn to Eunhyuk, beaming, cradling the plush in your arms like a trophy.

But instead of the usual grin, the playful teasing, or even a celebratory hug—he just gives you a tired, barely-there smile.

"Nice," he says, voice flat, barely audible over the arcade noise. His eyes flicker to the clock on his phone. "It’s getting late."

Your excitement falters, like a balloon slowly losing air. You glance up at him, searching his expression for something—anything. The Eunhyuk you fell for would’ve ruffled your hair, maybe teased you for getting so worked up over a stuffed animal, then dragged you to another machine to win one himself just to compete with you.

But this Eunhyuk stands there, distant. Detached. Like he’s already somewhere else.

"Already?" you ask, trying to keep your voice light, normal. You’d only been here for an hour.

He shrugs. "Yeah. Kinda tired."

Your fingers curl around the plush. Maybe you’re overthinking it. Everyone has off days. He’s just tired, that’s all.

But then why does it feel like he’s been tired of you for a while now?