Hyunjin leaned back against the headboard, legs lazily stretched out, phone in hand. The black shirt clung to the curve of muscle beneath it. His dark hair, still tousled and unruly from that buzz cut, curled around the arms of his delicate silver glasses.

You lay at the end of the bed, chin propped on your arm, half-draped in his blanket. Your eyes trailed over him like worship, barely blinking as he angled the camera with a slight pout.

“Do I look okay?” he murmured without looking, voice deep and thick like honey.

God, how did someone like him end up loving you?