After his shower, Seo-Jun couldn’t sleep. His mind was still racing from everything that had happened.

He found himself wandering toward the hotel’s rooftop infinity pool, where the city lights stretched endlessly beneath him.

He sat by the edge, dipping his feet into the cool water. The gentle ripples felt soothing against his skin , his hands gripping the worn notebook on his lap. The air smelled like chlorine and night-blooming jasmine, a strange mix of artificial and natural beauty.

He sighed.

His head was too full.

Too many thoughts, too many emotions tangled up inside him.

He flipped open his notebook, pressing his pen against the page.

“What am I even doing?” he muttered.

But instead of answering himself, he started to write.

“Lost between yesterday and tomorrow,

I stand in the space where nothing is clear.

The city hums, the world moves,

but I stay, waiting, unsure if I belong.

I chase a dream I barely remember,

hold onto hopes I don’t dare to name.

Is there a place where the restless can rest?

Where the lonely aren’t alone?”

Seo-Jun stared at the words.

His chest tightened.

He wasn’t sure if the poem was about himself. Or maybe he was just tired.

Too tired to keep pretending that none of this was affecting him.

A loud splash snapped him out of his thoughts.

Water rushed up in waves, soaking his legs as Nikolai emerged from the pool, shaking his wet hair like a dog.

Seo-Jun yanked his notebook up to save it from the water. “Can you be any louder?!”

Nikolai grinned, completely unbothered. “Had to get in somehow.”

“Like a normal person?”

“Not my style.”

Seo-Jun scowled but kept watching as Nikolai swam.

The way he moved—sharp, effortless, powerful. The water rippled around him, his muscles flexing with every stroke.

Seo-Jun scoffed under his breath. “Show-off.”

But his eyes lingered.

And before he realized it, his pen was moving again.

He wasn’t writing now.

He was sketching.

He started with the eyes—that sharp, piercing blue that was impossible to ignore.

Then the curve of his nose.

The shape of his mouth.

All while mumbling to himself.

“Arrogant. Reckless. Annoying. Insufferable. And yet—”

Seo-Jun stopped.

His breath hitched.

He stared down at his notebook, at the drawing of Nikolai’s face.

He hadn’t meant to.

He hadn’t even realized.

Damn it.

“You really  like my face,  huh?”

Seo-Jun jumped.

He snapped his notebook shut, turning to find Nikolai standing over him, dripping water everywhere.

His heart nearly exploded.

“You—you—you—” Seo-Jun turned red.

Nikolai tilted his head, amused. “What was that? Didn’t catch it.”

“NOTHING.”

Nikolai smirked, leaning in slightly. “You sure? You looked pretty focused.”

Seo-Jun gritted his teeth, clutching his notebook like it was his last lifeline. “I was just—thinking.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

“…While drawing me?”

Seo-Jun turned even redder.

Nikolai laughed softly, sitting beside him on the edge of the pool.

“What else is in there?” he asked, nodding at the notebook.

“Nothing,” Seo-Jun muttered.

“Liar.”

Seo-Jun huffed. “…I just write poems sometimes.”

Nikolai raised an eyebrow. “Poems?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t think you were the poetic type, Teach.”

Seo-Jun shrugged. “It helps.”

Nikolai tilted his head. “Read me one.”

Seo-Jun hesitated, biting his lip.

The words in his notebook weren’t just words.

They were pieces of himself.

But something about Nikolai’s request felt genuine.

So, after a pause, he flipped to a page and read:

“Some nights, the silence is heavier than stone,

pressing down until my thoughts turn to dust.

I whisper to the moon, ask if it’s ever been lonely,

if stars ever burn just to feel something.”

The moment he finished, the air between them shifted.

Nikolai didn’t speak.

Didn’t tease.

He just…watched.

The silence stretched too long.

Seo-Jun felt exposed.

And before he could say something stupid—

Nikolai grabbed his wrist and yanked him into the pool.

Seo-Jun screamed.

Water rushed around them, bubbles exploding as he flailed.

When he surfaced, coughing and sputtering, Nikolai was laughing his ass off.

“YOU—” Seo-Jun gasped, wiping water from his face. “I HATE YOU.”

“Relax, Teach.” Nikolai grinned. “Consider it therapy.”

Seo-Jun splashed water at him. “THIS IS NOT THERAPY.”

Nikolai splashed him back.

Seo-Jun forgot to be mad.

For a moment, they just…existed in the water.

The tension, the danger, the uncertainty—all of it faded.

Seo-Jun’s gaze drifted.

Nikolai’s hair was dripping wet, sticking to his forehead. The water made his jawline sharper, his lips redder. His eyes, bright and endless, locked onto Seo-Jun’s like they could see straight through him.

Seo-Jun’s heart skipped.

Without thinking, he reached out.

His fingers traced Nikolai’s cheek, then moved up to his temple.

“…Your eyes,” Seo-Jun murmured. “They’re really beautiful.”

Nikolai stilled.

Seo-Jun barely noticed—his hand moved on its own.

He traced the bridge of Nikolai’s nose.

Then—his lips.

For some reason, Seo-Jun’s breath shook.

And before he could stop himself, he whispered, “…They look sweet.”

Nikolai’s voice was low.

“Would you like to taste them?”

Seo-Jun’s pulse pounded.

And then—he heard himself say it.

“Yes.”

The moment the word left his lips, Nikolai moved.

The kiss was slow.

Soft at first.

But then—Seo-Jun leaned in.

His fingers curled into Nikolai’s skin, pulling him closer.

The warmth of Nikolai’s mouth melted into his own, sending a shiver down his spine.

Seo-Jun’s mind blanked.

All he could feel was heat, breath, the wet slide of lips against lips.

Nikolai’s hand tangled into his hair, pulling slightly.

Seo-Jun gasped.

The sound made something in Nikolai shift.

The kiss deepened.

Seo-Jun felt like he was floating. Drowning.

When they finally pulled apart, Seo-Jun’s chest was heaving.

Nikolai’s lips brushed against his ear.

“Sweet?” he murmured.

Seo-Jun swallowed hard. His voice was barely a breath—

“…Very.”

Nikolai chuckled, fingers stroking through Seo-Jun’s wet hair.

Then—he kissed him again.

And this time, Seo-Jun didn’t stop him.