Hongjoong doesn’t say much on the ride back.

One hand stays on the steering wheel, the other clenched tightly in his lap. His jaw is set, eyes forward, knuckles white every time he thinks about it—about the way that person stood too close to you, laughed a little too easily, looked at you like they forgot who you belonged to.

You notice. Of course you do.

“You’re being quiet,” you say lightly, like you’re testing the water.

“I’m fine,” Hongjoong replies immediately. Too fast.

The apartment door shuts behind you with a solid click.

Wooyoung’s voice carries from the living room. “You’re back alrea—” He pauses, clocking the look on Hongjoong’s face. “…Never mind.”

Jongho glances up once from his phone, raises an eyebrow, and wisely says nothing.

Hongjoong doesn’t make it more than two steps into the apartment before his hand finds yours.

Not rough—but firm. Intentional.

“Come here,” he says quietly, pulling you toward the hallway, away from curious eyes. His fingers don’t let go even when you stop walking. Instead, he steps closer, backing you gently against the wall.

“You were flirting,” he mutters.