The apartment was quiet except for the sound of your series playing in the background.

The front door unlocked.

A moment later, Choi San stumbled inside with an exaggerated amount of concentration, carefully kicking off one shoe… then nearly losing his balance doing the second.

His jacket landed somewhere near the hallway.

“Success…” he mumbled to himself.

You peeked over the couch, trying not to laugh.

He wandered into the living room, cheeks lightly flushed from a night out. The oversized black T-shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, a tiny Ditto peeking from the corner of the pocket. His black phone case clattered onto the coffee table, decorated with two tiny turtles glued to the back—one purple, one blue.

“…Cute,” you muttered.

“They’re friends,” he replied with complete seriousness.

Instead of joining you on the couch, the muscular idol slowly lowered himself onto the floor until his back rested against it, his head leaning against the cushion beside your leg.

“Uuughh…”