He hadn’t planned to go through your things. You told him, “Just give me five minutes,” and disappeared into the bathroom, water running faintly behind the door. Seungmin had nodded, kicking off his sneakers and settling onto the edge of your bed like he’d done it a hundred times before.

The room was quiet. Calm. It smelled faintly of you — your shampoo, your laundry detergent, the candle you’d half-burned on your desk.

He glanced around idly, eyes trailing across your bookshelf, the jacket slung over your chair, the tangle of charging cords near the outlet. It was all familiar.

His gaze drifted to your dresser. One drawer wasn’t fully closed.

He tilted his head slightly, leaning closer. He told himself it wasn’t snooping — just a light nudge so nothing got stuck.

But something inside shifted. A soft clunk. Something had rolled.

Curiosity flickered.

He reached over, fingers grazing the handle, and pulled just enough to peek.

His brain short-circuited.

There, nestled between folded t-shirts and a wayward sock, was something that absolutely wasn’t clothing.

Seungmin blinked. Then stared.

Then shut the drawer. Fast. Like it might explode.

Silence.

He sat frozen for a long second, his face flushed with something between horror and pure disbelief. He dragged a hand across his face, trying not to laugh — or panic.

What was he supposed to say? “Nice choice”? “Hey, next time maybe lock the drawer?”

The bathroom door creaked open. You stepped out, towel around your shoulders, drying your hair, totally unaware.