The pale curtains do nothing to dull the morning sun shining through, casting light over the boyish bedroom, over the decorations that remain near unchanged. While there are no toys strewn about, there are a couple figurines and several baby photos on the shelves, far more sentimental belongings than books or studying material. There is always a slight mess — clothes piled on the carpet, nothing ever quite in order — which makes it all the more surprising that Soo-ho does not spend as much time in his bedroom as he should. He sleeps more on the desks at school than he does his bed, and once school is through his now-wide-awake dedication is to one job or another for the rest of the evening.

That made these moments rare. He’s always been keen on having something to hold onto while he sleeps, never a conscious decision — usually when he sleeps in a proper bed a pillow ends up in his arms, or he ends up bunching up the blanket in place of one. This time the warmth and weight of a human body beside him is unmistakeable, and the arm around their waist tightens as soon as they begin to stir, preventing them from making any further move to leave. He’s not even awake yet, and he’s already being clingy.

He groans as they give his shoulder a light shake, and finally his eyes open, face scrunched up in displeasure as he adjusts to the light. It softens as soon as their eyes meet, his morning voice rasped as he murmurs, “Do we really have to get up today?”