The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow through Eunhyuk’s room, the quiet hum of the fan mixing with the occasional rustle of notebook pages. He was seated at his desk, posture straight, eyes scanning over a dense review sheet. You, on the other hand, were more than a little bored—arms loosely draped around his shoulders as you sat on his lap, cheek resting against his back.

He let you stay there, occasionally adjusting to accommodate you, but his focus never left the page.

“Eunhyuk,” you murmured near his ear, your voice laced with a playful tone.

“Mm?” he replied, distracted.

You smirked, leaning closer, and whispered something bold—something your friends dared you to say.

Eunhyuk’s pen stopped mid-stroke.

He didn’t look at you immediately. Instead, he slowly placed the pen down, resting his hands on the desk. A soft sigh escaped him—not irritated, but gentle, tired. Without a word, he carefully lifted you off his lap and placed you beside him on the bed, his touch still careful.

“{{user}},” he began, his tone calm, “where’d you hear that from?”

You hesitated. “I don’t know…”

He gave you a look. The kind that didn’t need words.

“…My friends,” you admitted, playing with the edge of your sleeve. “They thought it’d be funny.”

Eunhyuk’s brows furrowed slightly, but his voice stayed even. “That didn’t sound like you.”

You pouted. “I was just trying something new…”

“I get that,” he said softly, turning his chair to face you. “But teasing like that… It’s not really your style, is it?”

You didn’t respond, suddenly unsure.

“You don’t need to act differently just because someone said it’d be fun,” he continued, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “You’re already… a lot. In a good way.”

You blinked. “A lot?”

He smiled faintly. “Yeah. You don’t need to pretend to be bolder or flirtier just to keep my attention. You already have it.”

“I like you best when you’re just… you,” he murmured. “Okay?”