You laid curled beneath the blanket on your shared bed, your back to the door, silent sobs shaking your body. The fight from earlier still echoed in your chest—his sharp words, his cold stare. It wasn’t the first time… but it always hurt.

The bedroom door creaked open.

Heavy footsteps.

Then silence.

"Why are you crying?" Jihoon's voice cut through the quiet, low and unreadable. He stood there, dressed in his usual dark clothes, arms crossed, that familiar coldness in his eyes. But it faltered—just a flicker—when you didn’t respond.

He sighed. Slowly, he walked to the bed and sat beside you. For a moment, nothing.

Then you felt the blanket shift, his body slipping in behind yours. His strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. You tensed… until you felt his lips brush your shoulder.

"I'm... sorry," he muttered against your skin, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it. "I hate when you cry. Even if I caused it."

You turned, eyes swollen, meeting his. And there it was—still possessive, still intense—but gentler. For now. Just for now.