Eun Wol could practically hear his own heartbeat thudding in his ears. He bit down on his tongue, stumbling back a step like he needed space to breathe. Redness crept up his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck, flustered.

“Erm… you want to try a new type of mocktail?” he blurted.

Gyu In smiled faintly and shook his head.

“No. A glass of plain water will do.”

“Wait, seriously?”

Gyu In only shrugged. “Yep. Just bring it over.”

He scanned the place, picked the darkest corner he could find, and quietly settled in. Eun Wol delivered the water but his eyes kept flicking over, a strange tightness in his chest each time he looked.

Gyu In sat with his eyes closed, a faint crease between his brows, radiating exhaustion. Unapproachable, but not cold. Just… worn down.

Eventually, closing time came. Eun Wol walked over, gently tapping his shoulder.

“Hey. We’re closing.”

“I’m not asleep,” Gyu In said, smiling without opening his eyes. “But I could use a wake-up kiss if you want me to move.”

Eun Wol arched a brow. “Oh? Let’s see what I’ve got lying around…” He disappeared briefly, returning with a bucket of mop water.

“Here’s something fresh. Want a splash to the face?”

Gyu In’s eyes flew open, hands up in surrender.

“Whoa! No need to get violent! I’ll wait for you outside!”

He snatched up his coat and made a quick escape, leaving behind laughter and Eun Wol’s barely contained smirk.

Soon, Eun Wol spotted Gyu In leaning on the car door, body tense, frowning. Concern tightened his chest.

“Hey, if you’re not feeling well, you don’t have to send me,” he said, touching his hand to Gyu In’s.

“Ah, you’re done?” Gyu In went to the other side, ignoring the question. “Come, let me drive you back.”

Eun Wol frowned, noticing how Gyu In’s steps faltered and his jaw clenched. He said nothing and let Gyu In slide into the driver’s seat. Then—click. Eun Wol unbuckled, reached across, and pulled the keys from the ignition.

“Move.”

Gyu In blinked, caught off guard.

“You’re clearly not well. Just move.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. Stop pretending you are.”

A pause. Gyu In sighed quietly, letting someone else take over. He climbed to the passenger seat. Eun Wol started the car, typing in the GPS.

A lump rose in Eun Wol’s throat, barely swallowed.

“Forty-five minutes…” He realized Gyu In had been driving him here, every night, for weeks.

“It’s my pleasure,” Gyu In murmured softly.

Eun Wol stole a glance at him. Lean, fragile, softened by exhaustion. The usual steel in his eyes flickered like a candle struggling against the dark. His chest tightened, and he drove in silence.

The car rolled to a quiet stop in front of a building that looked nothing like the glossy skyscrapers they usually moved through. The modest exterior was simple, clean, comfortable rather than flashy. Eun Wol’s brow lifted in surprise.

“Is this… your place?” he asked, curiosity breaking through the haze of the night.

He stole a glance at Gyu In as he drove. The man looked smaller than usual, lean and almost fragile in the dim streetlights. The sharp angles of his face softened under the weight of exhaustion, and the usual steel in his eyes flickered like a candle struggling against the dark. Eun Wol’s chest tightened, a silent pull he wasn’t ready to name yet.

Gyu In’s head dropped at a slight, awkward angle, leaning against the car window. His breathing slowed, steadying as he slipped into a deep, peaceful sleep like a baby finally allowed to rest.

“Gyu In, we’re here,” Eun Wol whispered, careful not to break the fragile silence. Even as the words left his lips, he knew this softness probably would not wake him. Eun Wol put the car in park and looked over. The soft rise and fall of Gyu In’s breathing made him smile quietly. This man could sleep anywhere, anytime, and still look like he owned the world.

“Hey, Mr. Sleepyhead,” Eun Wol whispered, nudging him gently. “Are you going to sleep in the car?”

Gyu In attempted to sit up but swayed, blinking sleepily. Eun Wol’s heart clenched. This wasn’t just exhaustion anymore. He breathed out slowly as an idea popped into his head. He went over to the other side.

“Hey, I’m just going to carry you. All you need to do is tell me your floor and unit.”

Gyu In groaned, eyes half-closed. “I’m too heavy. Let me call you a ride back. Sorry—”

“Quiet.” Before he knew it, he felt his arm slide under Gyu In’s thighs and back. Gyu In tensed briefly but soon relaxed again.

As Eun Wol lifted, a sharp crack shot through his back, and he winced.
“Okay, okay,” he muttered, setting Gyu In down gently. “No bridal carry.”

Instead, he braced himself and let Gyu In climb onto his back for a piggyback.

“Piggyback rides are better for you,” Gyu In whispered, sleepy breath warm on Eun Wol’s neck.

Eun Wol squared his shoulders, ready to play chauffeur, when Gyu In suddenly stirred, eyes fluttering open just enough to mumble.

“Okay, okay, first, left at that big weird tree, no, no, the one that looks like it’s waving.”

“Waving tree?” Eun Wol blinked.

Gyu In nodded seriously, then winced. “Wait, wait, wait. No, the second lamp post, no, the third. No, the second. Yeah, second lamp post after the bakery. Or was it a café? Or a bakery-café?”

Eun Wol snorted but said nothing. “Alright, second lamp post after the bakery-café.”

Gyu In grinned, eyes half-closed. “Good. Good. Then the third door on the right. Blue mailbox, or maybe it’s green. It’s definitely one of those.”

Eun Wol groaned internally but let the chaos flow. “Blue or green mailbox. Got it.”

Gyu In gave a sleepy thumb-up. “You’re a natural. I’m going to make you do this forever.”

Eun Wol chuckled. “No way, I’m charging overtime for this.”

Gyu In laughed softly. “Worth every penny.”

It took another twenty minutes before Eun Wol finally reached Gyu In’s house. But then another problem popped up. How was he going to get the door open?

“Mr. Sleepyhead -” Eun Wol started, but before he could finish, a hand slid past his head and pressed a thumb against the finger scanner. With a soft click, the door unlocked.

Eun Wol slipped off his shoes and stepped inside.
“Last room…” Gyu In mumbled sleepily.

Eun Wol carefully settled Gyu In onto the bed, feeling the soft weight ease against the mattress. The room was cloaked in quiet dimness, the pale light from the city outside slipping through the dark blue curtains like a whispered promise. A faint scent of worn leather and lavender lingered in the air, grounding Eun Wol in the stillness.

He smiled unknowingly as he looked at the sleeping Gyu In. So this is how he looks when he’s sleeping. Quite cute.

Eun Wol took a quiet step toward the door, ready to leave Gyu In to rest. The exhaustion in his body was almost contagious, but his heart was still pounding, something unspoken tugging at him from behind.

“Don’t go.”

The words came soft, barely brushing the silence. Gyu In didn’t move or reach out. He simply lay there, eyes half-lidded, voice rough with sleep but clear in what he wanted.
“I just… don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Eun Wol froze, surprised. The blanket remained clutched gently in Gyu In’s hands, offering all the comfort he could allow himself to ask for. Not a demand. Not a plea. Just a quiet truth laid bare in the dark.

For a moment, everything else slipped away. There was only this fragile space between them, filled with trust neither had asked for but somehow found.

Eun Wol’s breath hitched. Slowly, he stepped back toward the bed.
“Alright,” he said, voice low and warm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The tension in the air eased, but the weight of the moment stayed. Eun Wol sat down at the edge of the bed, his gaze never leaving Gyu In. Even if he did not reach for him, his words had reached far enough.

Gyu In gave the faintest nod, eyelids fluttering shut. His breathing began to slow again, the tension ebbing from his body like waves pulling back to sea.

Eun Wol remained seated, watching the rise and fall of Gyu In’s chest, the quiet settling between them like a lullaby.

For the first time in a while, the night asked nothing more from either of them, except to rest.