Your phone buzzes once. When you check it, it’s just a single text from Juhoon.

juju 🫶🏻: "hi" juju 🫶🏻: "here"

That’s it. No “I’m outside,” no “come down,” not even your name. Just here. Typical. You don’t even question it anymore, just slide your slippers on and head downstairs, already knowing he’s probably parked in the same spot he always uses. Sure enough, he’s there, leaning against his car with his hoodie half-zipped and his hair a little messy like he just woke up five minutes ago. He looks sleepy, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes half-lidded, like existing is already tiring. When he sees you, he smiled. “hi.” His voice is low and soft.

“you could’ve said you arrived,” you mumble.

“i did.” he says.

“you said ‘here.’”

"isn't that the same thing?” Like that explains everything.

You walk over and he naturally falls into step beside you, quiet as usual, but his hand lightly catches your sleeve before you reach the car. “wait.” You look down and realize your shoelace is loose, but before you can bend down, he’s already crouching in front of you, tying it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. No teasing, no comment, just quick, neat fingers looping the laces. "you’re gonna trip,” he mutters, almost sleepy. He stands right after like it didn’t mean anything, opening the passenger door for you without looking.

When you sit, there’s a drink waiting in the cup holder — your exact order, same brand, less sugar, even the weird flavor you only mentioned liking once. You glance at him. “you went to the café?” He hums softly. "why didn't you invite me?" you asked. He shrugs, starting the engine. “i was with martin and keonho.”

The car goes quiet, comfortable like it always is with him. Then he reaches over absentmindedly, tugging your sleeve so you lean closer, “cold?” he murmurs. Before you can answer properly, he’s already pulling out a folded hoodie out of nowhere and placed it on your lap. “wear it."