Seojun hit the decline button right away and shoved the device into his back pocket.

"Fuck off…"

Yeonjun looked at him. Curiosity tugged at his mind about the sudden anger.

"Are you okay? Is everything alright?" he asked.

Seojun looked back, and a wide grin appeared on his face. The heavy tension from fifteen seconds ago completely vanished.

"It's nothing, Han Yeonjun. Just some irrelevant nonsense. Shall we keep going?"

—

By the time they reached the house, the street was completely silent.

Yeonjun followed him up the short path. The warmth of the oversized coat still held onto his shoulders. He kept his hands tucked deep into the sleeves, and his fingers curled inward. He felt like he was holding onto something he could not quite name.

They stopped in front of a tall gate.

Seojun entered the key code. The lock clicked open, and soft light spilled from the porch. The glow created long shadows over the stone steps.

"This way," he said.

He stepped through first, and Yeonjun followed. The scent of cold air and distant pine clung to the dark trench coat.

The architecture student looked up at the two-story detached building. The modern and minimal design looked incredibly elegant. It was far more luxurious than he had expected, and the contrast between the massive house and his companion's punk appearance felt completely jarring.

He stopped walking while his thoughts raced. Is this guy really from a family this rich? he thought. 

The realization sank in, but he still followed after the Seojun, who was already a few steps ahead.

They stopped in front of the door. The panel on the wall waited for an input. 

Seojun did not move at first. Then he turned around with slow and purposeful steps. He stepped in very close.

Yeonjun did not expect the sudden closeness. He instinctively leaned back a little, but the other boy was already reaching past him. He lowered his head near Yeonjun's shoulder. His breath lightly touched the skin on his neck. It looked almost like he was about to speak into his ear, but he kept his mouth shut.

Fourth touch. Still no reaction from him, Seojun thought, as he slid his fingers along the inside of the coat.

"I left it here," he said. He pulled out the key card.

Yeonjun stood completely still. His face remained neutral, but the fluid and normal movements of the other boy made it hard to look away. He did not understand why the moment felt so heavy.

Seojun stepped back and tapped the card against the panel. The lock opened with a soft sound.

"Come in, welcome to my place," he said. He pushed the door open smoothly.

—

Yeonjun followed after a brief second. He stayed completely quiet and stepped into the unfamiliar space. He slipped off his shoes at the raised entryway and lined them up right next to the high-tops. The polished floor beyond the entrance felt a few degrees warmer underfoot.

He lowered his head in acknowledgment. "Thank you so much for inviting me over." 

A wide grin spread across Seojun's face.

"I told you my parents won't be home tonight, right? They went to Jeju Island to celebrate their anniversary. Make yourself at home, okay?" he said.

The interior was simple but beautifully decorated. Sleek lines and warm lighting highlighted the unmistakable signs of wealth. Paintings hung on every wall, and a massive TV took up an entire corner. 

Yeonjun walked past the oversized sofas. He immediately compared the house to his own father's place. His family home was rich and beautiful on the surface, but it felt incredibly cold. This place did not carry that same heavy weight.

Seojun led the way upstairs to the attic room. His relaxed and confident posture showed that this was not just a regular bedroom. It was a completely personal space. The painting student had carved out his own quiet kingdom inside the massive house.

Once they were inside, Seojun turned around.

"Wanna take a shower? Don't hold back. I've got spare clothes. We can wash yours in the meantime, and in the morning, the housekeeper can iron them," he said. "I mean, if you wanna stay here."

Yeonjun waited for a moment. He was unsure if he should really act this comfortable, but the open look on his companion's face made it feel okay. He had spent an entire week dealing with lonely nights at the hotel, so the cozy atmosphere of a real home felt surprisingly good. He made a quick decision and tilted his head forward.

"A shower actually sounds great, Kim Seojun," he said.

Seojun walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out some clean clothes. He handed the folded fabric over. His movements were calm and careful. Their fingers touched lightly during the exchange, and Seojun did not pull his hand away. He liked the idea of the architecture student wearing his personal clothes.

"There are towels in the bathroom cabinet," he said. He took a few steps toward a narrow door in the corner of the room. "Second shelf, right in the front. You'll see it as soon as you open it."

He stood there for a second and made sure the guest saw the door. Then he turned around.

"I'll be on the terrace. Take your time. And make yourself at home," he said.

"Thanks," Yeonjun said. He held the clothes tightly with both hands.

Seojun walked away toward the terrace, and a single thought crossed his mind.

Fifth touch.

—

A few minutes later, the sound of running water filled the bathroom. The hot stream washed over Yeonjun. It relaxed his muscles, but his mind remained completely restless.

He caught a glimpse of his own bare body in the spotless shower glass. He stared at his reflection for a second.

What am I even doing here?

Maybe the drinks pushed him here, or maybe he just could not force himself to go back to that cold hotel room. This place felt entirely different. It was warm and quiet. There was no Ji-a to argue with, and no heavy silence filled the air. The oppressive atmosphere of his father's house was also completely missing. Instead, the room offered light and space. The calm energy felt strangely familiar, and it seemed like something he had needed for a very long time.

He had felt alone for so long, and he did not even realize how much he missed this kind of warmth. It was nice to just be around someone who made things feel easy and peaceful. This punk had shown up out of nowhere, but being near him did not feel strange at all. It felt safe. Maybe that was the reason he finally let his guard down.

He came out of the shower and dried his hair with a towel. He put on the clothes that Seojun gave him. The hoodie and shorts fit him perfectly.

Looks like we're about the same size, he thought. He adjusted the waistband and walked back into the main room. He kept rubbing the towel through his damp hair.

Seojun was smoking on the terrace. He looked inside and saw Yeonjun walking out in shorts. He quickly turned his head toward the street. He did not want to make his guest uncomfortable.

His legs are really toned and strong, just like I guessed. Is he working out?

He crushed the cigarette into an ashtray and walked back inside. He tilted his head toward the bed.

"I'll take a quick shower too. Won't be long. Feel free to lie down if you're tired. You can sit on the couch or on the bed, whatever you like," he said as he walked toward the bathroom.

—

Yeonjun stood alone in the center of the room. 

When he let his eyes wander across the space, the area felt unusually personal. It was organized but warm, and it looked like someone had spent real time making it feel like home. He looked at a wall full of manga.

Demon Requiem. Soulstorm Chronicles. Those were his absolute favorites. The discovery felt strange but oddly comforting.

He moved through the space slowly. A series of surrealist paintings grabbed his attention next. The brushstrokes looked incredibly emotional. They seemed far more skilled than the usual work of a college student. 

He stepped closer to the canvas and read the signatures at the bottom corners. Some paintings bore the name Shin Mi-yeon, and others said Kim Seojun. The names appeared again and again on the walls.

Is he from an artist family? Yeonjun knew the works of the famous painter Shin Mi-yeon very well, and these canvases definitely could not belong to her. The matching names grabbed his focus completely.

A compact kitchenette and a mini fridge sat neatly behind a narrow bookshelf in the corner. The setup made the room feel more like a self-contained world instead of just a bedroom.

It feels like he built an entire life inside this room. It is not just a place to sleep or study. 

The space felt like it belonged completely to the painting major.

He walked over to the terrace door. The faint sound of the wind filtered through the curtains, and he crossed his arms loosely over his chest. The air inside was warm. The silence carried a completely calm energy.

Why does this place feel like home more than any other place?

The soft click of the bathroom door pulled him out of his thoughts.