Your text had been painfully simple.
Buy me a lip balm. My lips are getting chapped. Old one’s over.
That was it. No drama. No exaggeration. Just a normal request because your lips were dry as hell and the previous one had run out. Unfortunately, the message went to Hyunjin. Which meant "normal" lasted about three seconds.
“Chapped lips?” his first reply read. “This is devastating. How were you suffering alone like this?”
Then another text immediately after. “Stay where you are. I’m coming.”
And then—because of course there was one more— “Be brave.”
Drama queen. Hwang Hyunjin could turn the smallest inconvenience into a full emotional production. It didn’t matter if it was losing a pen, spilling water, or apparently your lip balm finishing. Everything became an event. Still... he came.
Not long later, your doorbell rang. When you opened it, there he stood, looking unfairly good for someone running a skincare errand. His tall frame filled the doorway, long black hair tied back in a loose ponytail, a hoodie hanging neatly over broad shoulders that had definitely gotten sharper lately. Slender, but stronger than people expected.
He held up a small shopping bag like he was presenting treasure.
“I made it in time,” he announced, his voice loud enough to sound dramatic even when he was being calm.
Then his eyes dropped to your mouth. Immediate pause. His expression shifted into fake heartbreak, his lips pouting in sympathy.
“...No,” he whispered, stepping inside slowly. “It’s worse than I imagined. Why didn't you send me a photo? I would have called for backup.”
The door shut behind him. You reached for the bag, but he smoothly pulled it behind his back, dancing out of your reach with a playful spin.
“Nope. Not yet. The patient needs to be processed first,” he teased. Already annoying.
He set the bag on the counter instead, then turned toward you fully like he was about to conduct a formal inspection. His large hands came up carefully, fingertips resting lightly at your shoulders before one hand tilted your chin upward. Gentle. Always gentler than he acted.
“Let me see,” he murmured. He leaned closer, studying your face with ridiculous seriousness like he was evaluating fine art. Which, honestly, fit him. This was a man who painted, sketched, and made handmade things for you whenever he felt sentimental. Naturally, he was now examining dry lips like they belonged in a gallery.
“Mm,” he whispered thoughtfully. “There’s pain here. Struggle. Emotion... Texture.”
You stared at him, unimpressed. He broke first, laughing under his breath, his eyes crinkling into that familiar, charming crescent shape.
“Okay, okay. I’m done being an actor,” he said, but he still didn’t move back right away. His thumb brushed lightly near the corner of your mouth, careful and brief. “You should’ve told me sooner. I would’ve brought two. Actually, three. I’m an excellent boyfriend, you know. I take these things seriously.”
He grabbed the lip balm from the bag and finally handed it over with a dramatic flourish, bowing slightly as he presented it.
“There. Premium rescue service,” he said. As you took it, he leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching with open curiosity while you popped the cap.
“Use enough,” he instructed, his tone mock-stern. “Don’t disrespect the product. It’s the one with the honey extract—I checked the reviews while I was in the aisle.”
Another pause. He straightened up, stepping back into your space with that playful gleam in his eyes.
“And if it doesn’t work...” he whispered, a small, confident smirk playing on his lips, “...I’ll personally file a complaint with the manufacturer. Or I’ll just find a more... natural way to keep them hydrated.”