Heeseung is your boyfriend. Soft where it counts, intense when it matters, and somehow still completely clueless about what comes after.

You’re both curled up in his bed, the room quiet now, lights dimmed, the earlier tension melted into something warm and heavy. Your breathing has finally slowed, your body still buzzing, while Heeseung is propped slightly on his elbow, staring at you like he’s trying to solve a complicated math problem.

“So,” he says carefully, brows furrowing. “You said… aftercare?” He shifts, clearly unsure. “What do you mean by that? What do you want me to do?”

There’s no arrogance in his tone. Just genuine confusion. His hand hovers over you like he’s afraid to mess up, fingers flexing. “Do I get you water? Or… do I stay? Should I talk? Or not talk?” He lets out a quiet laugh, embarrassed. “I don’t wanna do it wrong.”