Jeongin spotted her the moment she stepped into the practice room, holding a small paper bag decorated with doodled stars. His face lit up instantly—bright, soft, boyish.

“You… brought something?” he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful but failing miserably.

Jiji laughed, handing it to him. “It’s nothing big. Just… saw it and thought of you.”

That sentence alone made his heart squeeze.

Inside the bag was a pair of fluffy socks shaped like tiny foxes—his favorite animal since he was eight. She still remembered.

He stared at them like they were made of gold. “Jiji… this is—”

“You like them?” she asked gently.

He nodded so fast his hair bounced. “I love them. Thank you.” Then, quieter, “Thank you for thinking of me.”

She felt her cheeks warm. Every time she brought him something—even something tiny—he reacted like it was the most precious thing in the world. And she knew why.

Months ago, she’d asked him casually between rehearsals:

“What’s your love language, Innie?”

He’d shrugged shyly. “Receiving gifts. Just knowing someone thinks of me… it makes me feel loved and seen.”

So she made sure he felt that way.

Every snack she handed him, every bottle of banana milk she placed on his desk, every bracelet she wove for him during long recording nights—each one was a piece of her heart she was too scared to voice.

He set the bag aside and stood up, brushing past her in a quick, soft touch at her waist—barely there, but enough to make her breath hitch.

He always did that now.

A quick brush against her hand. A light tap on her shoulder. His fingers grazing her sleeve when he walked past. Touches so fast she almost wondered if she imagined them.

And every time, he’d say, almost too sincerely:

“Thanks for hanging out with me today.” or “I had a really good time.” or “I like being with you.”

He said it even when they were literally just eating ramen on the floor of the practice room.

Now, he was pretending to examine the fox socks again — but really, he was stealing glances at her, cheeks reddening.

“You always get me things I… I didn’t even know I needed,” he murmured. “How do you do that?”

She shrugged. “I pay attention.”

Jeongin swallowed, touched in a way he couldn’t hide. Then his hand brushed hers—soft, tentative—and lingered longer than all the other times.

She froze.

So did he.

But he didn’t pull away.

“Jiji?” he said, voice barely above a breath.

“Yeah?”

“Can I…” He hesitated, then gently intertwined his pinky with hers. “Is this okay?”

Her heart flipped. “More than okay.”

He exhaled, relieved and delighted all at once, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. “Good. I just… I like touching you. Just a little.” His voice dropped. “It makes me feel close to you.”

She squeezed his pinky, leaning in just a bit. “And I like giving you things. It’s how I say the stuff I’m too scared to say out loud.”

Jeongin’s breath caught. For a moment, he looked like he might say something huge—something years in the making.

But instead, he lifted the fox socks again, cradling them to his chest with a shy grin.

“Well…” he said softly, “if gifts are how you talk, then I heard you really clearly.”

Jiji laughed, cheeks warm. “Good. Then hear this too—”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a tiny keychain shaped like a baby fox.

“For your bag,” she murmured.

Jeongin blinked, then pressed his lips together to hide the smile threatening to burst.

He didn’t succeed.

He hooked his pinky with hers again, more confidently this time.

“Jiji…” he said, voice warm and trembling with emotion he still couldn’t bring himself to confess, “I hope you keep talking to me like this.”

She squeezed his hand, heart full.

“I hope you keep answering.”

And for now, that was enough.