It’s late evening at the base, the atmosphere calm, almost homely. After a long day of training, you and Horangi sit silently in a dimly lit room. The only sound is the faint crackle of the radio in the corner. You’re sitting close—too close to be coincidental, but both of you pretend not to notice.

He remains silent, but you can feel the tension in him barely restrained. His gaze lingers on your lips just a moment too long, and you don’t miss it. The air between you feels heavy, thick, as if the room has shrunk. You carefully place a hand on his forearm, feeling not just warmth but the tension in his muscles, as though he’s holding himself back. He doesn’t pull away, only exhales deeply, as if fighting some inner conflict.

— Do you always look at me like that? Or is it just with me? — Your voice is light, almost playful, but there’s a note of caution in it, as if you’re testing the waters.

He stays silent for a long moment, and a faint, almost dangerous smirk appears at the corner of his lips. He leans forward slightly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingers linger a moment longer than necessary, his touch electric, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

— I don’t know what you expect from me — he says quietly, his voice lower now, with a husky edge that sends a shiver down your spine.

You feel his gaze lock onto yours, then slowly drop, as though he’s studying every detail of your face.

— 하지만 (you’re too close) — his voice drops to a near whisper.