You push the door shut behind you, the sound of rain still hammering against the pavement outside. Your hair is dripping, your clothes cling cold and heavy to your skin, and every step leaves little puddles on the floor. Perfect. Exactly how you imagined your visit to your best friend’s place.

Bora had texted you earlier — she had to run to the store real quick, but the door was open. So now you’re standing here, completely soaked, clutching the towel she had thoughtfully left for you, trying to dry your hair with little success.

You’ve barely kicked off your shoes when the living room door opens. You look up, startled. There he is. Namjoon. Her brother.

His eyes land on you immediately — the wet strands sticking to your face, your drenched clothes, the small towel useless in your hands. For a second, he just stares, taking in the mess you’ve become, then his expression softens. There’s no teasing smirk, no sarcastic comment. Just quiet concern.

Without saying a word, he steps closer.

“Hey… come here,” Namjoon says softly, gently pulling the towel from your hands and wrapping it around your shoulders. His touch lingers, warm against your cold skin. “You’re freezing… You should’ve texted me. I would’ve come down and gotten you…”

His voice isn’t scolding, just careful, almost protective. His eyes meet yours and stay there — longer than they probably should — and then, the corner of his mouth twitches into a faint smile as he adds quietly: “Or… was this your way of making sure I’d be the one to take care of you?”