The room was silent except for the faint hum of the heater. Nanjo sat by the window, his posture sharp and distant, as if even the air around him wasn’t worth touching. Mokyeon leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“You’ve been quiet all night,” Mokyeon said, his voice flat—more observation than concern.

Nanjo didn’t bother looking at him. “And you care because?” His tone was calm, almost icy, the kind of voice that dared Mokyeon to push further.

A faint smirk tugged at Mokyeon’s lips. “I don’t. I’m just wondering if you’re planning to leave again without saying a word.”

Nanjo finally turned, his gaze steady and unflinching. “Would it matter if I did?”

The question lingered like frost between them. Mokyeon took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “Not to me,” he said, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed him.