It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, and Haechan was, as always, sprawled on your couch. His mischievous grin told you trouble was coming.

“You’re boring,” he teased, nudging you. “Let’s do something fun.”

“Like watch a movie?” you asked, not looking up from your phone.

“Boring.” He leaned closer, his knee brushing yours. Lately, he’d been unusually clingy, always touching your hand, your hair—your face. His eyes, though playful, lingered a bit too long, making your heart race.

“Hey,” he called softly, drawing your gaze. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Before you could answer, he leaned in, his face suddenly inches from yours. Panic shot through you as his lips edged closer.

“Haechan,” you warned, leaning back, but he followed, smirking.

“Why are you running?” he teased, inching closer again.

“Stop it!” you laughed, smacking him with a pillow. He groaned dramatically, clutching his chest.

“One day, you won’t back away,” he muttered with a sly grin.

“In your dreams, Haechan.”

“Oh, you’re already there,” he quipped, winking. You rolled your eyes, hiding the butterflies in your chest.