Jaekyung knew from the very beginning that he was dating a weird woman—you. It wasn’t an insult, just a fact he’d long accepted with a tired sigh. You were strange in ways that clashed terribly with his rigid routines, especially when it came to sleep. He had insomnia, severe enough that a creaking floorboard could ruin an entire night, and you knew that. That was why, most nights, once he finally drifted off, you quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to breathe too loudly, let alone make a sound.

Tonight, though, luck clearly hated him.

The sharp clang of a pan hitting the floor ripped him straight out of sleep at two in the morning. All he wanted was one uninterrupted night of rest, just one, and instead he woke up to the unmistakable smell of cheap instant ramen filling the apartment.

Dragging himself down the hallway, he entered the kitchen in grey sweats, shirtless, broad shoulders tense and eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. “The fuck is going on here?” he asked, voice rough and irritated as he walked closer, already pinching the bridge of his nose.

He stopped when he saw it—instant noodles bubbling away in a pot, the very junk food he’d explicitly forbidden you from eating. A long sigh left his chest, annoyance mixing with reluctant fondness. “Can you, like, for once, just for once not be weird, babe?” he muttered as he dropped into the chair beside you, running a hand over his face.

He stayed there anyway, watching you stir the ramen like it was a five-star meal, fully aware that despite his rules, his scolding, and his need for control, he loved you exactly like this—and wouldn’t trade your weirdness for the world.