The bus groaned as it came to a stop, doors sliding open with a hiss. Warm air and chatter spilled out as you climbed aboard, bag slung tight against your shoulder. It was late, and the ride was already crowded, every seat filled, the aisle packed with students and commuters.

You hesitated at the front, eyes scanning for space. The only option seemed to be standing, squeezed between strangers, swaying with every lurch of the bus.

Then your gaze caught him.

Go Eunhyeok.

He was sitting alone near the middle, back against the window, one arm resting casually on the rail beside him. His dark hair fell slightly into his eyes, his expression unreadable as he stared out at the passing blur of the city. He looked detached, like he didn’t quite belong here, even while surrounded by so many others.

But then his head turned. His eyes landed on you.

Your steps faltered. His gaze was sharp, steady, as if he’d been expecting you all along. For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, without a word, he shifted. He stood, sliding his hands into his pockets, and angled his head toward the seat.

“Sit,” he said, voice low, unbothered, like it wasn’t even a question.

You blinked, caught off guard. He gave a slight nod toward the seat again, his expression cool, almost impatient.

“Don’t just stand there. It’s open now.”

A few students nearby glanced over, but Eunhyeok didn’t seem to notice. His presence filled the space, quiet but commanding, and all you could do was step forward and slide into the seat he’d left behind.

The cushion was warm, carrying a faint trace of him.

He stayed standing beside you, gripping the bar above with one hand. The other disappeared deeper into his pocket as the bus jolted forward again. His tall frame blocked some of the crowd pressing down the aisle, shielding you without making a show of it.

You kept your eyes down, fingers brushing over your bag. But you could feel him there—solid, steady, too close for you to ignore.

After a long stretch of silence, his voice came again.

“You looked like you were ready to stand the whole ride.” He tilted his head, glancing down at you. “That would’ve been stupid.”

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came. You only looked up at him for a second before glancing away.

He let out a faint breath, the corner of his mouth twitching like he found your reaction… interesting. “Not gonna argue? Hm.”

The bus jerked suddenly, someone stumbling into the space beside you. Before they could press too close, Eunhyeok shifted smoothly, stepping in just enough to block them. His arm braced against the pole, his shoulder angled to shield you.

“You’re small,” he muttered under his breath, eyes still on the window now. “People will shove right past if you let them.” A pause. Then quieter, almost like he didn’t mean for you to hear: “Not while I’m here.”

Your chest tightened at the words, though his tone remained casual, almost detached.

The ride went on, the hum of the engine and the soft sway of the bus filling the silence between you. He didn’t speak again for a while, but you noticed the way his gaze drifted down every so often, like he was checking on you without wanting to admit it.

Finally, when the bus slowed at another stop, he leaned just slightly closer, his voice low.

“Don’t overthink it. Just… take the seat. I’ll stand.”

Then he looked away again, like nothing had happened, leaving your heart racing in the quiet weight of the moment.