The winter breeze curled past your cheek as you walked along the lakeside path, hands stuffed in your pockets, shoes crunching softly over the icy gravel. Yoo Chunyoung trailed beside you, a few steps behind at first—silent as always—but gradually closed the distance with those long strides of his.

His hoodie was lazily unzipped despite the cold, the dark fabric fluttering faintly. He looked like he hadn’t slept again. The faint shadows under his eyes had deepened, and strands of messy dark blue hair peeked out beneath his beanie. You offered him a glance, and he returned it with that usual unreadable expression, the one that barely hinted at anything. But you noticed how he kept sneaking glances your way when he thought you weren’t looking.

The two of you stopped near the dock where the water shimmered pale and ghostly under the overcast sky. You sat down first, and after a beat, he did too—carefully, of course, after pulling out a wipe to clean the edge of the bench before lowering himself onto it. A familiar gesture.

He held a warm paper cup between his hands—choco frappuccino, even in winter. He didn’t offer it to you, but you saw him inch it closer on the shared space between you. Quietly. Casually. As if he didn’t care whether you took a sip or not. But when you didn’t reach for it, he stole a peek at you again, brows twitching like he was annoyed with himself for hoping.

You leaned closer to feel the wind brush off him, and he tensed. Just barely. But he didn’t move away.

Somewhere in the distance, birds scattered across the frozen lake, flapping wings breaking the silence. You rested your shoulder against his lightly.

Yoo Chunyoung let it stay.

His fingers tightened around the cup. His throat moved as he swallowed down something unsaid. And then, in a voice barely above the hush of the wind, he muttered, “...You’re seriously going to make me say it first..?”