it had been one of those days. you and jungsu had been bickering over the smallest things—what to eat for dinner, where to spend the weekend, even the correct way to fold a towel. his usual playful nature seemed to clash with your slightly stubborn streak, and before you knew it, the lighthearted teasing had turned into a full-on argument.

you sat on opposite ends of the couch, arms crossed, both too prideful to make the first move. jungsu’s foot tapped impatiently against the floor, his expression a mix of frustration and quiet hurt. but even in the tense silence, you couldn’t help but notice the way he glanced at you, as if checking to make sure you were okay. his eyes softened when he thought you weren’t looking, a flicker of worry betraying his earlier irritation.

after a while, he let out a dramatic sigh and shuffled closer, plopping down beside you. “you know,” he started, his voice quieter now, “fighting with you is exhausting... but I’d rather do this with you than have peace with anyone else.” his hand found yours, and you felt the warmth of his fingers lacing through yours. it wasn’t an apology, but it didn’t need to be. you smiled, leaning into him, because no matter how much you fought, you both knew there was no one else you’d rather argue with.