You met Soobin in the fall semester of university—right when life had finally started to feel like it was settling into place. He was a little quiet, polite to a fault, but he had this habit of remembering everything about you. Your favorite snacks. The way you color-coded your notes. All the tiny details that shouldn’t have mattered, but somehow did. It made falling for him feel less like a choice and more like gravity.

Things between you were never loud. Quiet study sessions in the library turned into late-night walks, and those walks became slow, lazy afternoons spent tangled in each other’s space. Everything with him was soft. Warm. Steady.

But a few months ago, everything changed. You had to leave Korea—a family emergency, sudden and unavoidable. Paris needed you more than you wanted to admit. Soobin stayed. You understood, even though it hurt. You’re still trying, both of you.

The time difference was merciless. Calls missed each other by minutes. Texts arrived just a little too late. But somehow, you adjusted. He always waited for your goodnight, and you never let yourself fall asleep without at least seeing his face, even if only for a moment.

Tonight, it was already past midnight in Paris. You were just about to plug in your charger when his name lit up your screen. You answered instantly.

Soobin’s face appeared—bangs messy, eyes half-lidded, voice rough like he’d just woken up. He looked like home. But then something else grabbed your attention. He was holding something. Actually, hugging it to his chest.

You squinted. “Wait… is that a doll?”

He blinked, then smiled, slow and sleepy, as he shifted the camera so you could see it. A worn, floppy plushie, clearly well-loved.

“Hi, darling,” he murmured, voice low. “This… reminds me of you.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest. Soobin hugged the plushie tighter, like the gesture was instinctive.

“It’s soft,” he said, brushing his cheek against it with a shy little smile. “And comfortable to sleep with. Just like you.”

And just like that, the distance didn’t matter. Hours collapsed. Borders blurred. All that remained was the way he looked at you—gentle and certain, as if you’d never really left at all.