Kaito woke up before the sun.

His body ached in that way it always did after falling asleep in an unfamiliar place—except it wasn’t the futon that made him feel off. It was the weight of something soft and steady pressed up against his side.

Minjae.

His breath was warm against Kaito’s collarbone, one arm thrown lazily over Kaito’s stomach. The room still smelled like cheap karaage, old camera batteries, and something else—something entirely Minjae. Soap and coffee and faint cigarette smoke, even though Kaito had never seen him light one.

Kaito blinked at the ceiling, unsure what part of last night had undone him most.

The kiss?

The silence after?

The way he stayed?

Minjae shifted beside him, murmured something in his sleep, then exhaled softly. His lashes brushed his cheek, long and unfairly perfect.

God, what am I doing?

Kaito gently moved Minjae’s arm and sat up, careful not to disturb him. His blazer was still on the chair. Phone, wallet, keys. His work life still untouched by the mess he’d walked into last night.

He found the bathroom, washed his face, and stared at himself in the mirror.

“You kissed him,” he muttered to his reflection.

His reflection didn’t look surprised.

By the time Minjae stirred, Kaito was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, poking around like he didn’t already know there was nothing edible.

“You touch my instant coffee stash, and I might actually kill you,” Minjae said groggily from the doorway, rubbing his eyes.

Kaito turned. “You sleep like a rock.”

“You lie like a politician,” Minjae shot back, yawning. “You were up at what, five?”

“Four-fifty.”

“Jesus.”

Kaito gave him a look. “Do you even own an alarm clock?”

“Nope. I run on anxiety and microwave beeping sounds.”

Kaito huffed a laugh—more sound than smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

Minjae padded across the room, hair a disaster, shirt sliding off one shoulder, and leaned against the counter beside him. “And yet, you stayed.”

“That’s the ridiculous part,” Kaito said quietly.

Minjae tilted his head. “Do you regret it?”

Kaito didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the empty mug in his hand.

“No,” he said at last. “I regret how much I didn’t.”

That made Minjae’s breath hitch.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Minjae reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from Kaito’s forehead, thumb lingering against his temple.

“You know I’m a mess, right?”

Kaito nodded.

“I don’t have a five-year plan. Hell, I don’t have a five-day plan.”

“I know.”

“And I’m not… stable. I can’t promise I won’t run sometimes.”

“I don’t need promises,” Kaito said, voice soft. “Just honesty.”

Minjae smiled. “Then you should know—I like you. More than I meant to.”

Kaito’s chest tightened.

“I don’t know what that means yet,” Minjae added. “But I’d like to find out. Slowly. Or fast. However you want.”

Kaito studied him. “You’re terrible at waiting.”

“I’m amazing at waiting,” Minjae said indignantly. “I just suck at pretending I’m not waiting.”

Kaito let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Then: “You want coffee?”

Minjae blinked. “You’re staying?”

“For now.”

Minjae beamed. “I’ve got the cheap instant stuff and maybe three drops of milk.”

“Perfect,” Kaito said, reaching for the kettle. “That’s exactly my level of emotional preparedness.”

Later that day

Kaito walked into the office with a slightly-too-soft expression. His coworkers didn’t comment, but he caught the subtle second glances.

He worked through his emails. Reviewed a report. Rejected a client proposal that didn’t meet their standards.

Everything normal.

Everything in place.

But every so often, his phone would buzz under the desk.

Minjae:
“So I tried to make toast and ended up setting off the fire alarm.”

Minjae:
“Does this mean I’m banned from breakfast?”

Minjae:
“Also, I left one of your socks on my floor. Holding it hostage.”

Kaito didn’t reply.

Not because he didn’t want to.

But because the last message wasn’t a joke.

Minjae:
“I don’t want to mess this up.”

Kaito stared at it for a long time. His fingers hovered above the screen.

Then finally, he typed:

Kaito:
“Then don’t.”

He hesitated.

“I’m not perfect either.”

Send.