By the time they reached the house, the street had gone nearly silent.

Yeonjun followed Seojun up the short path, the warmth of the coat still clinging to his shoulders. His hands were tucked deep into the sleeves now, fingers curled, holding onto something he couldn’t quite name.

They stopped in front of the tall gate.

Seojun entered the key code without a word. The gate clicked open, and soft light spilled from the porch ahead, casting long shadows over the stone steps.

“This way,” he said quietly.

He stepped through first, and Yeonjun followed, the scent of cold air and distant pine clinging to his clothes.

He looked up at the two-story detached building. Its design was striking. It was modern, minimal, and elegant. It was far more luxurious than he had expected, and the contrast between the house and Seojun’s punk appearance was jarring.

He paused, thoughts churning. 

Is this guy really from a family this rich?

Even as the realization sank in, he followed after Seojun, who was already a few steps ahead.

They stopped in front of the door. The panel on the wall blinked silently, waiting for input. Seojun didn’t move at first. Then, suddenly, he turned around with slow, purposeful movements and stepped in close.

Yeonjun didn’t expect it. He instinctively leaned back a little, but Seojun was already there, reaching past him. He lowered his head near Yeonjun’s shoulder, so close his breath touched Yeonjun’s neck. Almost like he was about to speak into his ear. But he didn’t. 

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

“I left it here,” he said quietly, pulling out the key card.

Yeonjun stood still. His expression didn’t change, but something about the way Seojun moved, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, made it hard to look away.

He wasn’t sure why it felt so strange.

Seojun stepped back, card in hand, and tapped it against the panel. The lock beeped softly and opened.

“Come in,” he said, pulling the door open with one smooth motion.

***

Yeonjun followed after a brief pause, silent as he stepped into the unfamiliar space. He slipped off his shoes at the raised entryway, automatically lining them up beside Seojun’s. The floor beyond was polished and clean, a few degrees warmer underfoot.

Yeonjun gave a small nod and said, 

“Thank you so much for inviting me over.”

Seojun looked at him with a smile and said, 

“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?”

The interior was simple but tastefully decorated. Sleek lines, warm lighting, and unmistakable signs of wealth. Paintings hung on every wall. A massive TV dominated one corner. As Yeonjun passed the oversized sofas, he couldn’t help comparing the house to his own father’s. Rich and beautiful on the surface, but cold in a way that made it hard to breathe.

Seojun led him upstairs to the attic room. The way he moved, relaxed and confident, told Yeonjun this wasn’t just a bedroom. It was a space Seojun had claimed as his own. A kingdom carved out in the quiet of a rich house.

Once inside, Seojun turned to him. 

“Want to 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.”

Yeonjun hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should really feel this comfortable. But the honesty in Seojun’s eyes made him feel like it was okay. After a week of lonely nights at the hotel, the cozy feeling of a home felt surprisingly good. He made a quick decision and nodded. 

“A shower actually sounds great.”

Seojun walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out clean clothes for him. Then handed them to Yeonjun, his movements calm and careful. Their fingers brushed lightly during the exchange. Seojun didn’t pull away. He liked knowing Yeonjun would be wearing something that had always been his. 

“There’s a towel in the bathroom cabinet,” he said quietly, taking 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, making sure Yeonjun saw it, then turned back to him.

“I’ll be on the terrace. Take your time. And make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” Yeonjun replied, holding the clothes with both hands.

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

Fifth touch.

***

A few minutes later, the sound of running water filled the bathroom. The hot stream washed over Yeonjun, relaxing his body while his mind remained restless. 

For a second, he caught a glimpse of his own bare body reflected in the spotless shower glass. The sight startled him. What am I even doing here? he thought. Maybe it was the drinks, or maybe he just couldn’t make himself go back to that cold, empty hotel room. This place felt different; it was warm and quiet. There was no Ji-a to argue with, no tense silence hanging in the air, and no oppressive feeling like at his father’s house. Instead, there was light, space, and a calm that felt oddly familiar, like something he had needed for a long time without realizing it. He had been feeling so alone for so long that he didn’t even realize how much he missed this kind of warmth. Just being around someone who made things feel easy, fun, and kind of peaceful. This guy had shown up out of nowhere, but somehow, being near him didn’t feel strange. It felt safe. Maybe that’s why Yeonjun let himself relax, just a little.

When he came out of the shower, he dried his hair with a towel, then put on the clothes Seojun had given him. The hoodie and shorts fit him perfectly.

Looks like we’re about the same size, he thought as he adjusted the waistband. He made his way back into the room, still running the towel through his damp hair. 

Seojun was smoking on the terrace. When he looked inside and saw Yeonjun coming out in shorts, he quickly turned his head away. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. He thought, His legs are really toned and strong, just like I guessed. He must work out. Then he put out his cigarette, walked back inside, nodded, and said casually, 

“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.”

***

Left alone, Yeonjun let his eyes wander. The room felt unusually personal. It was organized but warm, like someone had spent real time making it feel like home. His gaze landed on a wall full of manga. Demon Requiem. Soulstorm Chronicles. He paused. Those were his favorites too. It was a strange, almost comforting discovery.

He moved through the space slowly. The surrealist paintings caught his eye next. They were sharp, emotional, far more skilled than what you’d expect from a college student. He stepped closer and noticed the signatures at the bottom corners. Some paintings were signed by Shin Mi-yeon, others by Kim Seojun. The names showed up again and again, quietly marking the walls. Was Seojun from an artist family? Yeonjun knew the works of the famous painter Shin Mi-yeon well, and these weren’t hers. The name similarity caught his attention.

In one corner, a compact kitchenette and a mini fridge stood neatly tucked behind a narrow bookshelf. It made the room feel more like a self-contained world than just a bedroom. 

It felt like he had built an entire life inside this room. Not just a place to sleep or study, but a space that felt like it belonged to him alone, Yeonjun thought.

As he stood near the terrace, letting the faint sound of wind filter through the curtains, he crossed his arms loosely without thinking. The air inside was warm, but the silence carried something else with it. Something calm. 

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.