The air inside the dorm was still, pressed down by silence and things unsaid.

You sat with your back against the concrete wall, knees pulled to your chest. The others had already settled in, their movements deliberate and small — everyone too aware of how close the end was.

Nam Gyu was the only one not lying down.

He stood near the barred window, arms folded, head tilted toward the moonlight that barely bled in.

You watched him.

He hadn’t spoken to anyone in days. But his eyes — cold during the games — always softened when they landed on you. Not tender, exactly. But steady. Familiar.

Safe.

---

“Why are you still standing?” you asked, voice low.

Nam Gyu didn’t turn around.

“Hard to sleep with blood on your shoes.”