The next morning, Seung-min woke before he opened his eyes.
He became aware of warmth first.
Then the faint smell of fabric softener and rain-damp air. Then the distant clatter of dishes in the kitchen. Someone humming badly in another room. A television speaking too loudly to no one in particular.
None of it belonged to his house.
His eyes opened slowly.
A blanket had slipped halfway down his shoulder. The sofa beneath him was narrower than his bed at home, softer in some places and uneven in others. Morning light filtered through thin curtains, pale and gold.
And on the floor beside the sofa, Youn-jun was asleep.
His head rested against the cushion near Seung-min's arm, one hand tucked beneath his cheek, the other still loosely holding the edge of the blanket as if he had meant to adjust it and fallen asleep halfway through.
Seung-min stared at him for a long time.
Jun's hair was a mess. His neck was bent at an angle that looked medically irresponsible. His mouth was slightly open.
It was, objectively, a terrible sight.
Seung-min could not look away.
He reached down before thinking and gently nudged Jun's shoulder.
Jun swatted blindly at the air. "Five more minutes."
"You're on the floor."
"Luxury is a mindset."
"You're drooling."
Jun's eyes flew open. "I am not."
"You were."
"You're a liar."
He sat up too quickly, winced, and grabbed the back of his neck. "Ow."
Seung-min watched him without sympathy. "Consequences."
"You asked me to stay."
The words landed between them more heavily than Jun seemed to expect.
His expression shifted. Just slightly.
Seung-min looked away first. "You could have said no."
Jun rubbed at his neck, quieter now. "I know."
Before either of them could say more, Jun's mother entered carrying a tray.
"Oh good, you're awake." She paused, taking in the scene. "Why is my son on the floor?"
"He's dramatic," Seung-min said.
Jun gasped. "I sacrificed my spine for you."
"No one asked you to."
"You literally did."
His mother sighed. "Move. Eat."
The tray held porridge, toast, fruit, and tea. Enough for four people, as usual.
Jun brightened instantly. "Mother, I forgive your earlier favoritism."
"I haven't changed favorites."
"That's cruel."
She set an extra spoon into Seung-min's hand first.
Jun clutched his chest. "I'm being bullied in my own home."
"You're alive enough to complain," she said. "So you're fine."
Seung-min lowered his gaze to hide the smile threatening to appear.
They stayed longer than planned.
After breakfast, Jun insisted they review economics properly. This lasted eleven minutes before he became distracted by reorganizing Seung-min's pencil case, declaring the arrangement "emotionally cold."
Then his sister dragged Seung-min away to ask for help with science homework again.
Then lunch appeared.
Then rain started once more, harder this time, drumming steadily against the windows.
"You can leave after it stops," Jun said casually.
"It's been three hours."
"Exactly. Dangerous weather."
"It's spring."
"Treacherous spring."
Seung-min looked toward the front door, then back at Jun.
Jun was pretending to read, upside down on the armchair.
"I should go."
Jun did not answer immediately.
When he finally spoke, his voice was light. Too light.
"Okay."
Something in Seung-min tightened.
He had heard Jun use that tone before—with classmates he did not care about, with teachers he wanted to dismiss politely, with people who had disappointed him without earning the right to know it.
It was not a tone Jun used with him.
Usually.
Seung-min closed his book. "You're upset."
Jun nearly dropped his own. "What? No."
"You are."
"I'm literally horizontal. How upset can I be?"
"You become more childish when annoyed."
"That is slander."
Seung-min stood. Jun sat up immediately.
"I'm not upset," Jun said again.
"Then why are you speaking like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like everyone else."
The room went still.
Jun's expression changed first—surprise, then something softer.
"You noticed that?"
"I notice everything you do."
The words left Seung-min before he could stop them.
Silence followed.
Jun stared at him.
Seung-min, suddenly aware of his own pulse, picked up his bag. "I'll go now."
He made it exactly two steps before Jun caught his wrist.
The touch was warm and familiar and far too steady for what it did to him.
"I was upset," Jun admitted quietly.
Seung-min did not turn around. "Why?"
"Because you looked peaceful this morning."
"That makes no sense."
"It does to me."
Jun's grip loosened but did not let go.
"You only ever look like that when you're here," he said. "Then you always leave."
Seung-min finally turned.
Jun's face had gone pink at some point, whether from embarrassment or frustration.
"I know you have to go home," Jun muttered. "I'm not stupid."
"Debatable."
"Min."
The complaint in his voice was so familiar that some knot in Seung-min's chest eased.
"I just…" Jun exhaled. "I liked having you here."
The honesty of it was almost worse than if he had joked.
Seung-min looked at the hand still around his wrist.
Then at Jun.
Then, because he had already crossed some invisible line simply by staying this long, he said the reckless thing.
"I can stay until dinner."
Jun blinked. "Really?"
"Yes."
"You're not saying that because I'm pitiful?"
"You're never pitiful."
Jun grinned so suddenly it was blinding.
"Good," he said. "Then put your bag down. We're watching a movie."
"We're studying."
"We can study the emotional themes of cinema."
"That is not a subject."
"It is today."
They watched half a movie.
Jun talked through most of it.
Seung-min claimed to be annoyed, but he did not move away when Jun gradually leaned against his shoulder. He did not comment when Jun stole fries from his plate. He did not mention that he had stopped following the plot entirely.
By dinner, the rain had cleared.
Jun's family filled the table with noise and passing dishes and overlapping stories. His sister accused him of cheating at cards three years ago. His mother asked Seung-min if he wanted seconds before he had finished firsts. Someone laughed every few minutes.
Seung-min answered when spoken to. Ate what was given to him. Listened.
And quietly memorized all of it.
When it was finally time to leave, Jun walked him to the gate.
The evening air smelled washed clean.
"Same time next week?" Jun asked.
"You're scheduling me now?"
"Yes."
"You're controlling."
"I'm charming."
Seung-min considered him. "Thursday."
Jun brightened. "That's basically devotion."
"It's tutoring."
"It's love."
Seung-min began walking toward the waiting car.
Behind him, Jun called, "You didn't deny it!"
Seung-min opened the door and got in without looking back.
But as the car pulled away, Jun saw it clearly in the window's reflection.
Seung-min was smiling.