The night was quiet, save for the occasional hum of passing cars and the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock. Moonlight filtered gently through the curtains, casting a soft silver glow on the room where you and Eunhyuk lay.

He was asleep beside you, his breathing slow and even, chest rising and falling with a kind of peace you couldn’t seem to find tonight.

You turned on your side, staring at the outline of his phone on the nightstand. The thoughts had been spiraling all week—late replies, vague comments, quiet nights where his mind seemed far away. You knew how much he loved you. But still… the whispers of doubt crawled in when you weren’t looking.

Quietly, carefully, you picked up his phone.

It didn’t feel right, but the urge to know—just to put your heart at ease—was stronger.

You typed in a few combinations: his birthday, the date you first met, his favorite number. Nothing.

You hesitated, thumbs hovering over the screen, frustration quietly building.

And then—

“Your birthday.”

Your heart leapt in your chest. You turned, startled, to see him awake, eyes barely open, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips.

“The passcode,” he murmured, voice low and raspy. “It’s your birthday.”

Your breath caught.

“I didn’t mean to—” you began, but he didn’t speak more. Instead, he reached for you, pulling you gently back down onto the bed and burying his face into the crook of your neck. His arms tightened around your waist, warm and secure. He didn’t bother taking his phone from you, letting you hold it in your hand if you needed to—unbothered, trusting.

There in the quiet of your shared room, tangled in his arms, you finally allowed your overthinking mind to rest—because sometimes love wasn’t loud or grand. Sometimes, it was just a boy who knew you’d guess every passcode but your own birthday.