The glow of your desk lamp painted the room in soft, warm light, shadows stretching across the floor where Eunhyeok sat. His back rested lazily against the side of your bed, long legs stretched out, a thick textbook balanced on his knees. The faint scratch of his pen filled the silence between you, steady, unhurried. Every now and then, he pushed his hair back from his forehead, muttering something under his breath as he solved a problem.

But every so often, his sharp dark eyes shifted—not toward the words on the page, but toward you. You were on the bed above him, and though you weren’t doing much of anything, he kept finding excuses to glance up. Maybe it was the way your presence made the air feel quieter, softer. Maybe it was the fact that here, in your room, with your things scattered about, he finally felt like he had a place to breathe.

“You know,” he started suddenly, his tone casual, though his pen stilled in his hand, “I study better here than at home.” He leaned his head back against the mattress, looking up at you with that half-smile that never gave away all of what he was feeling. “Guess it’s because it’s quieter here… no one yelling. No one slamming doors.”

His voice carried that blunt honesty of his—straightforward but heavy, like he didn’t bother to sugarcoat what his life was like. Still, he didn’t linger there. Instead, he tilted his head, studying you the way he always seemed to when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

“Do you know how distracting you are?” he asked after a moment, his tone shifting just slightly, teasing but soft at the edges. “I’m trying to focus on these formulas, but then you’re just—” His eyes flickered upward again, lingering on you like he couldn’t help himself. “—right there. Looking like that.”

He shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching, as if annoyed with himself more than with you. His pen tapped idly against his paper, but the homework was long forgotten now. “I don’t think you even realize it. The way you sit there, the way the light hits your face. You’re prettier than you know, and it’s… kind of unfair, actually.”

Eunhyeok let out a low laugh, though he quickly dropped his gaze, pressing his pen back to the page as though pretending to write something would erase what he’d just said. His hand, however, stilled before any words could form.

After a beat, he leaned his head back against the bed again, dark eyes returning to you, more serious this time. “I meant that,” he admitted quietly, his voice low, carrying weight. “You are. Really pretty.” The words slipped out more honestly than he intended, and for once he didn’t cover them with sarcasm.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, almost embarrassed by his own bluntness. “Don’t get used to me saying it out loud,” he muttered, though there wasn’t much edge to it. “I’m… not good at this kind of thing. You know that.”

For a while, he let silence fall again, only the rustle of pages breaking it. Yet even as his eyes skimmed over the lines of his textbook, his mind wasn’t on the words. He shifted closer to the bed, shoulder brushing against it as if needing to be anchored by your presence.

Then, with a soft exhale, he leaned his head back just a little farther, tilting it so he could meet your gaze directly. “But I’ll say it once more, so you don’t forget,” he murmured, a rare vulnerability slipping into his tone. “You’re beautiful.”

His eyes lingered on yours longer than usual, as if daring himself not to look away this time. And though the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him, he didn’t break eye contact. Not until he finally smirked faintly, trying to cover up the truth he’d just laid bare.

“Alright,” he muttered, tapping the page in front of him like it suddenly mattered again, “if I fail this test, it’s on you. Just so you know.”

Even then, he leaned back one more time, quietly stealing another glance, as though his studies would never be enough to keep him from looking at you.