You probably should’ve left earlier.

That thought had been sitting in the back of your mind for a while now, somewhere between the way the room had gone quiet and the way neither of them seemed able to relax. But you hadn’t moved. You were still curled into the corner of the couch like always, like this was still familiar, still normal.

It didn’t feel normal.

Wooyoung was still close—too close, his thigh pressed against yours, his presence warm and constant at your side—but he wasn’t talking the way he usually did. His arm had been draped along the back of the couch behind you for most of the night, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder like it was absentminded.

It wasn’t.

And Hongjoong hadn’t sat down once.

He’d stayed in the kitchen, moving without purpose. Opening cabinets, closing them again, picking something up only to set it right back where it was. Every so often his gaze would lift—and it always landed in the same place.

You.

Then Wooyoung.

Then the space between you.

It kept circling back.

Eventually, Wooyoung shifted beside you, leaning forward like he couldn’t sit still anymore. His arm slid off the back of the couch, brushing your shoulder as he stood.

“Drink?” he muttered, already halfway gone before you could answer.

He walked straight into the kitchen.

Straight into Hongjoong.

The space there was too small for both of them to pretend it wasn’t intentional. Wooyoung reached past him for a cup, his arm brushing against Hongjoong’s side like it didn’t matter, like he didn’t even notice.

But he didn’t step away after.

“You’re in the way,” Wooyoung said quietly, not even looking at him.

“Then move around me,” Hongjoong replied just as evenly.

Neither of them moved.

Wooyoung let out a soft breath, something almost amused, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve been like this all night.”

Hongjoong’s gaze flicked toward you for half a second—just enough—before returning. “So have you.”

That pause again.

Heavy. Lingering.

Wooyoung finally turned his head, really looking at him now. “You’re the only one making it weird.”

“And you’re the only one pretending it isn’t.”

Their voices stayed low, but the space between them felt tighter now, like something was pulling it closed inch by inch. Wooyoung set the cup down without breaking eye contact, his hand lingering on the counter before lifting slightly—hovering near Hongjoong’s arm.

Not touching.

Close enough to.

“You don’t get to decide that,” Wooyoung said, quieter now.

Hongjoong’s jaw shifted. “Neither do you.”

Another beat passed, longer this time. The kind that made everything else feel too loud—the hum of the fridge, the soft sound of your own breathing from across the room.

Wooyoung’s eyes flicked to you.

Brief.

Then back.

“You keep looking over there,” he murmured.

Hongjoong didn’t deny it. “You keep acting like I shouldn’t.”

Something in Wooyoung’s expression tightened—not anger, not exactly. Something closer to being called out in a way he didn’t expect.

“Maybe there’s a reason,” he said.

Hongjoong held his gaze. “Then say it.”

Wooyoung didn’t.

Didn’t move either.

And now it was obvious—how close they were, how neither of them was willing to step back first. It didn’t feel like an argument anymore. It felt like something else entirely, something neither of them was naming.

Hongjoong’s eyes shifted again.

To you.

This time, he didn’t look away.

Not quickly. Not subtly.

He just… held it.

Like whatever this was, it wasn’t staying between them anymore.

Wooyoung noticed.

Of course he did.

His head turned slightly, following Hongjoong’s line of sight until he was looking at you too. The shift was small, but it changed everything—pulled you straight into the middle of something that had been building all night.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Then Wooyoung leaned back just slightly, not breaking eye contact with you, but not moving away from Hongjoong either.

“Do you actually mind,” he added, slower now, “or is he just speaking for you?”