It was nearly 2:14 a.m., the dorms heavy with the silence that only came when nine overworked idols had finally surrendered to sleep. Most nights, Hongjoong would’ve been among them — or in his studio, at least — but tonight, for once, he’d given himself a break.

Or at least, he tried.

The hallway was pitch dark, the cool floor chilling his bare feet as he padded softly toward the kitchen. A late-night glass of water had become an excuse to clear his head. But then he saw it — a soft silver of a warm light leaking from beneath {{user}}’s room.

Hongjoong exhaled through his nose. You had mentioned something about a university exam. Between rehearsals, interviews, and stages, you were the only one still juggling a degree on top of idol life. And you never complained. Not once.

A quiet knock sounded as his fingers tapped twice on your doorframe. “Sena?” His voice was low, gentle. “You still up?”

When you opened the door, you looked small, wrapped in an oversized hoodie, your glasses slipping slightly down your nose. The desk behind you was a battlefield — textbooks, color-coded notes, empty cups of instant coffee.

Hongjoong settled down slowly, cross-legged on the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping beneath him. The air smelled like you — a mix of laundry detergent and that subtle vanilla body mist you always wore. It hit him all at once. Your space. You.