It was 3:07 a.m.

The house was silent, except for the gentle hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of wood shifting. Heeseung, your brother’s best friend, stood over the stove, watching the water bubble, the steam curling against his tired skin. His eyes were half-lidded, shoulders heavy. Three hours—that’s the longest sleep he’d had in a week. Tonight didn’t seem any different.

Usually, he’d be on his phone or lying in the dark, scrolling endlessly, counting the hours until morning. But tonight, the silence was too loud. The thoughts were too much. So, ramen. Something simple. Something warm.

The water boiled harder. He dropped in the noodles.

Then, footsteps.

Heeseung turned, caught off guard by the sound of soft padding down the stairs. You appeared in the dim kitchen light, wearing an oversized hoodie—your brother’s, probably—and headphones resting on her head, screen glowing in your hand. You looked up.

For a split second, both of you froze. “What are you doing?” You asked, sliding one side of your headphones off your ear.

Heeseung rubbed the back of his neck. “Making ramen.”

You nodded, stepping closer. “Can I have some?”

He blinked. “Yeah.” He quickly dropped another packet in the water without question.

Neither of you said much while it cooked, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel awkward—just sleepy, calm. When it was ready, he split the bowls without being asked, and the two of you made your way to the couch in the living room, sitting side by side in the soft glow of the TV.

Heeseung put on some random action movie, not really caring what it was.

As you ate together, your knees brushed. You didn’t pull away. When you finished, you leaned back, your head slowly falling onto his shoulder. He didn’t say a word. He just let you. His body stilled—then relaxed.

And for the first time in weeks…His eyelids felt heavy. Five minutes passed. Then ten.

You glanced at him when the screen flickered. His bowl was empty in his lap, and his breathing had evened out. His mouth was slightly parted. He was asleep. Completely. Deeply.

You blinked, surprised.

Heeseung never slept at your house. You knew that. Even if you didn’t know why.

But here he was—shoulder against yours, the weight of his head drifting ever so slightly closer to your own.

And he looked peaceful. Like maybe… maybe something about being next to you made the world a little quieter. A little softer. And maybe that’s all he needed.