Juhoon had always been protective over his things, but his hoodies? Those were sacred. You weren’t supposed to touch them. Yet somehow, it had become a habit—slipping into the oversized gray hoodie he left at your place after practice, pretending it was yours. It smelled faintly of him, just enough to make you smile whenever you wore it.

One afternoon, you were lounging on your bed, hoodie pulled over your head, scrolling through your phone when you heard the familiar creak of your door. “Hey, you home?” Juhoon’s voice carried that easy, teasing tone.

“Uh…yeah.” You mumbled, sitting up quickly, realizing your mistake.

He leaned in the doorway, eyes widening as he took in the sight. “That’s…my hoodie.”