Dating Choi San was a contradiction in the best way.

On stage, he was fire — sharp movements, dark eyes, the kind of presence that made people call him part of ATEEZ’s “Devil line.” Seonghwa, Hongjoon, San — dangerous, intense, untouchable.

Off stage?

He was your oversized, clingy cat.

Wide shoulders, strong arms, idol body and all — yet the second he stepped through the door, he melted. Especially tonight.

You’d both had a terrible day. Schedules went wrong, misunderstandings piled up, everything felt heavier than it should’ve. You barely made it to the couch before the exhaustion hit.

San stood there for a moment, equally drained, hoodie sleeves pushed up over his big biceps, hair messy from practice.

“Don’t move,” he said softly.

You blinked. “San, you’re tired—”

“Shhh.”

He shuffled into the kitchen anyway, dramatic sighs included, and five minutes later returned with two small cups of noodles. Steam curled between you as he handed one over carefully, as if it were something precious.

“Gourmet meal,” he declared, trying to sound proud. “Chef San special.”

You couldn’t help but smile.

He plopped down beside you and instantly wrapped himself around you — arms secure, chin resting on your shoulder. For someone so strong, he clung like he needed you just as much.

“Let’s watch your show,” he murmured, already reaching for the remote. “The one with the dramatic soundtrack.”

You leaned into him, feeling his warmth, his steady breathing. Even exhausted, even when his own day had been awful, he still made space for you.

Halfway through the episode, he tightened his hold.

“You know,” he mumbled against your hair, “if anyone makes you have a bad day again, I’ll fight them.”