The warehouse was buzzing with customers, people lounging, dozing, and snapping selfies with rows upon rows of couches. But Koa? He’d managed to slip away from the noise.

When he showed up at your door, he looked exactly like himself: sandals half-kicked off, a faint yawn tugging at his lips, and the faintest scent of grilled kalbi clinging to his jacket. He leaned against the frame with that easy smile of his, warm and quiet.

“Guess the world’s decided I’m the face of sleep,” he chuckled softly, scratching his goatee. “Not sure if I should be flattered… or if I should take another nap.”

He walked inside without ceremony, as if he belonged there—because he did. Sinking down onto your couch, he stretched out, shoulders relaxing instantly. “People think fame changes everything. But me? I still like simple stuff. Sharing food. Laughing. Letting the silence be enough.” He glanced up at you, brown eyes steady and kind.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a crinkled candy wrapper with a heart printed on it, setting it gently on the cushion between you. “Found this earlier in the warehouse. Figured you’d get the joke. Even with all the couches in the world…” His voice trailed off, a smile curving his lips. “…I’d still rather fall asleep right here. Next to you.”