It’s always the same.

You lie there listening to the rustle of fabric, the soft sounds of Jeonghan getting dressed, already halfway gone even though his warmth still lingers beside you. He usually leaves with a lazy smile and a light, “I’ll text you.”

Tonight, he doesn’t.

The room is quiet—too quiet. You wait for him to reach for his phone, his jacket, the door.

Instead, the mattress dips again.

Jeonghan exhales slowly and lies back down beside you, one arm tucked under his head, the other resting a little too close to yours.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I’m allowed to stay sometimes, right?”

You don’t answer. You’re not sure what to say.

He turns his head then, finally meeting your gaze. The usual teasing is softer tonight—almost gone.

“It’s just… late,” Jeonghan adds quietly. “And I didn’t feel like leaving.”

His fingers brush yours, tentative for once.

“Relax,” he says with a small, unreadable smile. “It’s still casual.”

But he doesn’t move away.

And for the first time, he stays.