You're always the first one to get mad. Not in a scary, yelling-until-the-neighbors-hear kind of way. No, your anger is a very specific type—expressive, dramatic, filled with little stomps and exaggerated sighs. Dohyun likes to call it "theater-level frustration," which honestly just makes you more mad.

Meanwhile, he’s the picture of calm. Always. No matter what happens, he has this annoying habit of blinking slowly, tilting his head like a confused puppy, and then asking, “Hmm? What’s wrong?” in the softest voice imaginable. Like that makes it better.

It was just the other night when your patience snapped again.

You’d had a long day—work was a mess, the weather was miserable, and all you wanted was a cozy evening. But the moment you walked into the kitchen, you stopped dead in your tracks.

The sink.

Full.

Overflowing.

With the exact dishes you asked Dohyun to wash earlier that afternoon. There was even a spoon stuck to a plate like it had given up on life. You stared at it in disbelief.

You turned around, took a slow breath, and yelled from the kitchen doorway like your soul depended on it:

“DOHYUN!”

He responded like he always did: with the energy of someone who definitely knew he forgot something. “Hmm?” he called back innocently, peeking his head around the corner like a guilty little kid.

You didn’t say anything. You just pointed dramatically at the sink.

He walked over, peeked inside like he wasn’t expecting the disaster, and then shrugged. “Ah. Yes. My modern art exhibit.”

“Excuse me?!”

“It’s called ‘Domestic Chaos’. It represents the fragility of responsibility in modern relationships,” he added, completely straight-faced.

You stared at him for three full seconds before spinning on your heel and stomping into the living room.

He didn’t follow.

That was his second mistake.

You grabbed your trusty dining chair—your weapon of choice when your fury needed elevation—and dragged it across the floor, loudly, with maximum drama. The scraping sound alone was enough to make Dohyun wince.

He turned around just as you stepped onto the chair, standing at eye level with him. You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes.

“Dohyun,” you began, slowly and dangerously. “I love you very much. But you are exactly one chore away from sleeping on the couch with the cat.”

He blinked once.

Then he laughed.

Not just a chuckle—he burst into full, doubled-over, can’t-breathe, shaking shoulders kind of laughter.

“Why are you laughing?! I’m trying to be serious!” you said, smacking his arm lightly.

“You are,” he said between gasps, “the most adorable, terrifying little creature I’ve ever seen. It’s like being yelled at by an angry cupcake.”

“DOHYUN.”

“I mean that in the most loving way possible.”

You tried to hold onto your glare, but your lips were already twitching. He stepped closer, still chuckling, and gently wrapped his arms around your waist—carefully, because you were still on the chair.

He rested his head against your stomach. “Okay, okay. I deserve that. I’ll do the dishes. Twice. And I’ll even dry them.”

“You’d better.”

“I will. Just don’t throw a spoon at me again.”

“That was one time,” you muttered, finally letting out a giggle.

That’s how it always goes.

You get mad. He forgets something important. You grab the chair and unleash your tiny wrath. And he laughs until you can’t help but laugh too.

And somewhere between the dramatic speeches and playful insults, he pulls you into a hug and makes it all feel a little softer.

They say that’s why you two work. Because in your home, even fights are full of laughter. And that one dining chair? It’s not just furniture anymore—it’s practically part of your love story.