Niki was feeling restless. Which was not uncommon. Nope. Not at all.

Being the youngest member and maknae of ENHYPEN meant he had a massive reservoir of restless energy he had to tightly control now that he was 21, especially in front of cameras, Weverse lives, and official schedules. He usually acted completely nonchalant in front of the public, but the second the cameras cut, he turned into a hyperactive puma around his members—and especially around you.

He had the kind of face that instantly pulled attention without trying. Sharp, feline eyes sat beneath straight, dark brows, carrying a cold, unreadable intensity that contrasted beautifully with his calm expression. His facial structure was sleek and sculpted, with a razor-clean jawline, high cheekbones, and smooth porcelain skin.

Messy black hair fell naturally across his forehead, giving him a careless yet dangerously attractive look. Standing at a solid 186 cm, his body possessed a dancer’s fluid proportions mixed with a boxer’s toned build—defined arms, firm muscles, broad shoulders, and subtle but visible abs beneath his clothes.

It had been a few weeks since he and his members had returned to Seoul after their grueling world tour. Today, after weeks' worth of accumulated stress, the exact moment his manager dropped them off at the dorms, Niki had bypassed his own bed entirely and headed straight to your apartment.

It was Saturday, around 5:30 p.m., so he figured you'd already be back from college. True to that, the very moment you had opened the door for him earlier, he had collapsed into your arms and gone out completely cold.

He woke up hours later, finally feeling better-rested. He was lying flat in your bed, the duvet pulled up to his neck with the AC humming softly. Your bedroom was mostly dark, save for the bright moonlight streaming through the open glass windows.

He blinked his hazy eyes, looking around for you before squinting at the wall clock. 8:17 p.m. Damn. He had slept for nearly three hours. He was still wearing the hoodie and jeans he hadn't bothered to change out of since landing at Incheon airport.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. And dammit... there it was again. That restless, touch-starved feeling. Weeks apart from you were finally hitting him all at once, driving a sudden, heavy ache straight to his lower stomach.

“Fucking hell...” Niki groaned, sitting up and rubbing his face with both hands.

He slid off the mattress and padded quietly toward the bedroom door, cracking it open to peek out. There you were.

You were wearing a full-sleeved red crop top and a pair of black denim shorts. Beside the kitchen counter sat a plastic shopping bag containing two bowls of instant Buldak ramen, a packet of frozen soup dumplings, and cheese sticks. You’d already gone out and bought tonight's dinner while he was asleep.

“What are you doing?” he murmured, coming up soundlessly behind you. He wrapped his long arms securely around your waist, his palm resting flat and warm against your bare stomach. “You bought food?”

When you didn't immediately answer, he leaned his chin onto your shoulder, his deep, velvety voice dropping an octave. “...Can I have cherries?”

You paused, looking up at him in utter confusion before pointing toward the fruit basket on the counter, where a bunch of fresh, plump red cherries sat next to some grapes.

Niki glanced at the basket, then looked right back at you, his grin widening with pure mischief. In the very next second, his hands gripped your hips, effortlessly turning you around and lifting you clear off your feet. He set you down on the edge of the kitchen counter, immediately stepping deep between your parted legs. With his arms locked around your waist, he tilted his chin up, forcing you to look down at him from your new, elevated position.

“Cherries, yes...” his tone dripped with a smooth, dangerous velvet as he leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose against yours, his feline eyes locking onto your lips. “...but not the fruit ones.”