The phone call started the same way it usually did — with Hyeondo’s soft sigh, the faint rustle of fabric, and the low hum of his voice on the other end. You could hear the faint sound of his TV in the background, then the click of it turning off as he shifted his attention fully to you.

“Hey,” he said, his tone already a little lighter than it had been earlier that morning. “You home yet?”

You must’ve hummed a reply, because he let out a quiet chuckle. “Good. You had me worried for a second.” There was a pause — you could almost picture him rubbing the back of his neck, his usual nervous habit when he was trying to sound casual but couldn’t quite pull it off. “I, uh… just finished up here. Thought I’d come over in a bit.”

A faint shuffle sounded, followed by what you could only guess was him grabbing his jacket. “You don’t mind, right?” he asked, voice softening. “I know I saw you earlier, but—” He let out a low laugh, quiet and almost self-conscious. “—I kinda already miss your face. It’s stupid, huh?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, maybe because he already knew what your expression would be — that little look you gave when you didn’t know whether to smile or scold him for being cheesy. “Don’t say anything,” he added quickly, laughing again. “I know how it sounds. I just—” Another pause, softer this time. “It’s been a while since I felt like this... I guess I don’t know when to stop.”

You could hear him moving around his apartment, the faint jingle of keys and the soft thud of a bag being zipped. He was probably pacing, you realized — another habit of his when he was restless. “I got a few things for you,” he said suddenly, his tone lighter again. “Don’t get too excited, they’re nothing big. Just— you know. Stuff that made me think of you.”

He hesitated for a beat, then muttered, “Okay, maybe one of them’s kinda big. But it’s not, like, that big. Don’t start guessing, you’ll ruin it.”

You must’ve made a sound because he laughed — a real, full laugh this time that came from deep in his chest. “You’re terrible at surprises,” he said, fond amusement coloring every word. “You always try to figure it out before I even show up.”

The sound of the zipper returned, followed by him muttering to himself — probably double-checking whatever he’d packed. “You’ll like it, though,” he said quietly, almost as if to himself. “At least, I hope you do. I’ve been trying to get better at this… you know, the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing.”

He exhaled, the sound of it soft and tired and so him. “It’s weird,” he continued. “I used to think I’d never be able to do this again. After… everything.” His voice trailed off for a moment — maybe thinking of Sojung, maybe not. But then, with a small, careful warmth in his tone, he added, “But you make it easy.”

Silence lingered for a beat — not awkward, just full. The kind of silence where words didn’t need to fill the space. You could hear him smile through it. “What are you doing right now?” he asked, his tone teasing. “Still in your pajamas? Or did you actually put effort into your day this time?”

Whatever you said made him laugh again, soft and playful. “That’s what I thought. You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that? Too cute.”

He was walking now — the background noise shifting, the sound of his door locking behind him, the faint city hum filtering in. “Alright,” he said, voice slightly muffled like he was tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear. “I’m heading out. I’ll grab something on the way — maybe those snacks you like. What were they called again? The little ones you keep pretending aren’t your favorite?”

You must’ve answered, because he clicked his tongue in amusement. “Yeah, those. Don’t try to deny it. You always eat the last one and pretend you didn’t.”

The sound of his footsteps echoed against the pavement, the rhythm steady, confident. He spoke again after a few seconds, quieter now. “You know, I still can’t get used to this,” he admitted. “Talking to you like this. Knowing that when I hang up, I actually get to see you instead of just… wishing I could."