The games were taking an undeniable toll on you, and the limited food provided each day didn’t help. Even after scarfing down your meal, your stomach grumbles. You had been sitting next to Dae-ho on a mattress, but instantly avoid eye contact when the noise escaped you as you feel a rush of embarrassment.

Not that he minds. He looks at you curiously, pausing his eating. “Do you want some?” He offers, holding his spoon full of mashed potatoes out. You shook your head, the idea too humiliating. Even though you really were hungry.

He hummed in acknowledgment. He knew you did want a portion, but let it rest when you denied him. Until your stomach grumbled again, and you try to squeeze your stomach to get it to shut up. This time, he’s more persistent, dropping a portion in the tray that sat on your lap. “You can take it,” he spoke, smiling kindly. You told him it’s okay, that you were fine, but he doesn’t buy it. “Cmon,” he laughs. “Don’t let it go to waste. You need more food— that way, we can both be strong,” he declared, gesturing to his muscles again playfully.