Goo sat lazily on the floor, his long legs casually wrapped around you as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You, sitting cross-legged in front of him, carefully spread a cool clay mask over his face with the tip of your fingers.

His eyes, sharp yet playful, stayed on you the entire time. The only person he ever let this close.

"Tch, I must really like you if I’m letting you do this." Goo huffed, but the smirk tugging at the corners of his lips betrayed his amusement.

"You always say that." You muttered, dipping your fingers back into the small jar of clay mask.

"And I always mean it, Pumpkin." His voice was smooth, teasing, yet there was something softer underneath it. Something only you would recognize.

Your fingers glided across his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, his forehead delicate, precise. And Goo? He didn’t flinch, didn’t move, just let you touch.

Anyone else would have been met with a swift dodge or a knife between the ribs.

But you? You were different.

"You’re actually staying still for once," you mused, tilting your head.

"That’s because it’s you." He grinned, lips barely moving under the drying mask. "Besides, what kind of childhood best friend would I be if I didn’t let my favorite girl pamper me?"

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. Goo had always been like this loud, reckless, borderline insane but around you, there was an ease.

A comfort.

His fingers absentmindedly tapped against your knee, a silent rhythm, a reminder of the years spent together.

Even now, after everything after growing up, after the violence, after the chaos this moment, right here, still felt the same.

Kim Goo and you.

Just like always.