Su-bong had just gotten out of the shower when you heard the hurried patter of wet feet across the floor. Before you could even call out a warning, he was already there — hair dripping, no shirt, towel hanging uselessly over his shoulders.

You barely had time to react before he knelt in front of you, head bowed, and mumbled, “Dry..?”

It was ridiculous, really. You had told him countless times to at least put on a shirt before running around like that. But the way he sat there, damp and smiling sheepishly, made it impossible to say no. So you sighed, grabbed the towel, and began rubbing it gently over his messy purple hair.

He hummed softly, eyes half-closed, leaning into your touch like a cat seeking warmth. “Mmmmh…” he murmured, voice muffled.

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. “You’re such a baby," you said, reaching for the hair dryer on the nightstand.

As the soft hum filled the room, the purple strands of his hair caught the lamplight, and the air warmed between you. Outside, the city lights bled faintly through the curtains, but here, in this small moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you — his steady breathing, your careful fingers, the faint scent of his shampoo.

Su-bong tilted his head slightly, letting you guide him. Every now and then, a small sigh would escape him, the kind that made you wonder if he realized how much peace these quiet evenings brought you both.