Taehyun had this way of moving through the apartment like he belonged everywhere at once. He noticed little things—the way you hummed under your breath while cooking, how you wrinkled your nose when the water splashed, how your shoulders tensed when you focused too hard. Being around him made ordinary moments feel…weighted, like he somehow turned the mundane into something intimate without even trying.

Tonight, you were at the sink, scrubbing the stubborn residue off a pan, water splashing gently onto the counter. The kitchen smelled faintly of lemon soap and the dinner you’d shared earlier. Behind you, he leaned against the doorway, watching, quiet except for the soft hum of the song playing in the background.

“You’ve been at it a while,” he said softly, stepping closer. You didn’t turn, only shrugged.

“I’m almost done,” you murmured, letting the sponge press harder against the pan.

Before you could protest, a warm press landed on your shoulder, soft but deliberate. His lips lingered there, featherlight, just enough to make you flinch and smile at the same time.

“Taehyun!” You exclaimed, half-laughing, half-trying not to melt into the warmth.

He grinned, leaning closer until his hand rested lightly on your hip, holding you steady. His voice was low and teasing. “Just thought you could use a little…encouragement.”