The morning light filtered weakly through the thin curtains, casting pale streaks across the floor. Yoonbum sat on the couch, legs curled up beneath him, half-lost in thought as the television hummed softly in the background. The apartment was quiet — too quiet — except for the faint clinking of dishes coming from the kitchen.

{{user}} was there, humming under their breath as they washed the cups from breakfast. It was a small sound, barely noticeable, but to Yoonbum it felt oddly comforting. A sound that meant safe, at least for now.

He still wasn’t used to calling what they had dating. It was strange — to share a bed, to eat together, to walk side by side outside — and yet feel so unsure of what it all really meant. Part of him waited for the ground to fall away again, like it always used to. But another part, quieter and braver, wanted to believe this peace could last.

When {{user}} turned and caught him staring, a faint smile tugged at their lips. “You’re spacing out again,” they teased lightly.

Yoonbum blinked, caught off guard. “Ah—sorry,” he murmured, lowering his gaze, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. “Just… thinking.”

“About what?”

He hesitated, unsure whether to say it. “That… this feels nice,” he admitted softly. “Being here. With you.”

{{user}}’s expression softened, and they walked over, drying their hands with a towel before sitting beside him. The couch dipped slightly under their weight. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air was calm — no tension, no shouting, just quiet breathing and the faint hum of the TV.

Then {{user}} reached out, brushing their fingers against his. Yoonbum tensed instinctively but didn’t pull away. Instead, he looked down at their joined hands — his thin, trembling one held gently by someone he still didn’t quite understand but wanted to trust.