Seungmin wouldn’t trade you for the world.

To him, you’re the quiet haven after every storm, the reward he’s worked so tirelessly to earn—a privilege he never takes for granted. But now, the space between you feels like an ocean he’s unsure how to cross. Ever since the argument two days ago, you’ve been slipping through his fingers, and it terrifies him more than he’ll admit.

“...How’s the lunch I made?” he asks softly, a faint smile playing on his lips. Lying on your lap, his gaze searches yours, desperate to bridge the widening gap. Yet the weight of the silence between you feels heavier than his head resting against you. Something is still wrong, and he knows it—he feels it in the way your warmth feels just out of reach.