Yeonjun said, “Huh?” just as he opened the cabinet. A second later, dozens of ramen packets fell out, bouncing off him and scattering across the kitchen floor.

He stood still for a moment, then slowly turned to Seojun with a flat expression.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

Seojun was right behind him. He stopped, trying not to smile.

“I told you not to open that,” he said, then started laughing.

The two of them dropped to their knees, shaking with laughter as the mess lay around them.

Still catching his breath, Yeonjun began picking up the packets.

“Can I ask something? Why do you even have this much ramen? Are you prepping for the end of the world or what?”

“I wish I had a cool reason like that,” Seojun said, tossing one packet in the air and catching it. “But nah. I just really love this brand. Like, obsessively.”

Yeonjun shook his head slowly, trying not to laugh again. 

“You need professional help.”

Seojun let out a dramatic gasp.

“Wow. That kinda hurt.”

That made them both laugh again, softer this time, easier. The kind of laughter that stays after tension is gone.

As Yeonjun gathered a bundle of packets into his arms, he looked up and said with a grin,

“If you’ve got any other secrets like this, now’s the time to confess.”

Seojun looked at him, suddenly serious, his eyes locked on Yeonjun’s.

“You know what? I do have one or two secrets,” he said.

Yeonjun noticed how Seojun’s mood had suddenly changed, but he didn’t feel ready to push. He laughed, pretending not to notice.

“As long as they’re not illegal and you’re not dragging me into them, I’ll listen to every single one. You wanna tell me?”

Seojun smiled.

“Maybe… with time. Or at least while we’re not drunk.” Then filled a pot with water and dropped in the seasoning packet.

Yeonjun leaned against the counter, his gaze slowly drifting around the room.

“This kitchen… I mean, why is there a whole kitchen in your room?”

Without looking up, Seojun focused on the pot.

“I spend most of my time here. Unless I’m in the studio. If I get hungry, I just make something myself. No need to go downstairs. We have a housekeeper, but no one touches my ramen.”

Yeonjun looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

“Can you even cook anything else?”

“Yeah. Actually, I’m pretty good at it. My dad’s the one who taught me, remember? The restaurant thing.”

“Right… you said your dad runs a restaurant.”

“Yeah. The 4th Door,” Seojun said casually. “I’m sure you’ve heard of it. Maybe you’ve even eaten there.”

“Wait, that 4th Door? The one in Hannam?”

Seojun smiled, a little amused.

“Yeah. My twin siblings work there too. One handles accounting, the other does PR.”

He stirred the pot gently.

“I’m the only one who didn’t join the family business. I prefer quiet.”

He turned to Yeonjun, eyes meeting his with a playful kind of seriousness.

“I’m a fucking artist, Han Yeonjun. If I’m going to host guests, I’m only doing it in my own place.”

Yeonjun didn’t reply right away. His eyes scanned the small stove, the narrow fridge tucked between a bookshelf and a coffee machine, the quiet and lived-in mess that somehow felt intentional. It wasn’t exactly cheap or minimal, but the warmth in it made everything feel personal and took the sense of luxury out of the picture.

His gaze drifted to Seojun, who was still stirring with a calm that seemed earned. Beneath the fake wild look reflected by the piercings on his face, there was someone entirely different.

And for a moment, Yeonjun didn’t feel like a guest. He just felt present.

***

The ramen was ready. Instead of reaching for his own bowl, Seojun cracked an egg and let it slip gently into Yeonjun’s, careful not to break the yolk. He didn’t say anything as pushed it gently toward him. Just a quiet gesture. A kind of care that didn’t need explaining.

Yeonjun smiled, almost to himself. Then he picked up his chopsticks but didn’t start eating. He took a bite without mixing the yolk in, like he was saving it or wanted to remember it. His face was a little red now, maybe from the drinks, the warmth, or both. His eyes stayed on Seojun.

“You know… You’re not really how I imagined.”

Seojun had just taken his first bite of ramen when he looked up at him.

“Oh? So you imagined me? Is that it? What do you mean?”

“I mean, yeah,” Yeonjun said easily. “After you showed up to join the fight that day, I remember thinking, ‘What the hell is with this guy?’”

Seojun looked down at his ramen bowl and stirred it a few times with his chopsticks, just to keep his hands busy.

“How did you imagine me then?”

Yeonjun tilted his head slightly, as if remembering.

“When I saw you on campus earlier, I thought, ‘He probably rolls his eyes at everything.’ You had that look… like someone who doesn’t care about anyone.”

Seojun smirked. “You mean I looked annoying.”

“A little,” Yeonjun admitted. “But now, I don’t know. You laugh more than I expected. And from the outside, you don’t look like the heir to the 4th Door. You could have your housekeeper cook for you, but here you are making ramen in your room. You’re probably going to university even though you don’t have to. You could wear designer brands, but you walk around in ripped jeans-–”

Seojun interrupted him.

“Hey, remember when I said I had some secrets… Well… The room next door? That’s my own dressing room. And those ripped jeans are Gwess.”

Yeonjun burst out laughing.

“A punk in Gwess. Kim Seojun, you’re seriously something else.”

There was a short silence, not heavy, just lingering. Then Seojun said quietly,

“You’re different from what I thought too.”

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Seojun nodded.

“You seemed… hard to approach. But you’re actually kind of easy to talk to.”

Yeonjun breathed out, something between a scoff and a laugh.

“Not sure if that’s a compliment.”

“It is,” Seojun said simply. He paused for a moment and looked at Yeonjun.

“Hey, how old are you?”

“Twenty-two,” Yeonjun said. “What about you?”

“Twenty-three,” Seojun answered.

Yeonjun looked surprised.

“I actually thought we were the same age. Or maybe I was older than you.”

He looked down at his bowl for a moment, then back up.

“If Ji-a had dated you… she probably wouldn’t have started so many fights.”

“Ah… fuck that girl,” Seojun thought. “Where is this conversation heading?”

But Yeonjun seemed like he wanted to keep going. His voice dropped a little.

“But… you don’t really seem like someone who dates.”

Seojun stirred his almost-finished ramen once, then said without looking up,

“I’m not really good at getting attached, Yeonjun. Though… I’ve had a few nice relationships.”

He smirked. “Apparently... I’m not bad. But I’ve said that before. I really don’t have time for girls.”

Yeonjun set down his chopsticks.

“And I’ve said this before. Tonight... you had enough time.”

Seojun finally met his eyes.

“Can I tell you something real? I’ve never spent time like this with a girl.”

Yeonjun didn’t respond right away. He just smiled and leaned back a little in his chair.

“I’ll come again,” he said casually. “When I’m in a proper relationship… with a decent girl, I’d want to bring her here too.”

And with that, everything inside Seojun sank.

Ah… of course, he thought. But he didn’t react. Just lowered his gaze again.

So that’s all this was.

He picked up his chopsticks and quietly returned to his bowl.