Y/N's POV
We finally reached his apartment.
I crossed my arms instinctively—y'know, just in case there were any more "unexpected breezes" or accidental shade-pointing moments.
Fluffy slippers on marble floors. Pajamas slightly wrinkled. Confidence? Nowhere to be found.
He unlocked the door, pushed it open, and walked in like it was just another night.
I followed behind, trying to keep whatever dignity I had left.Without turning around, he motioned toward a familiar door at the end of the hallway.
Rabin:
"You can sleep there. I already cleaned out my stuff."
I blinked.
Y/N:
"Didn't you have your art stuff in there?"
He paused. Just slightly. His hand still on the edge of the doorframe.
Rabin:
"I don't want to linger to my past."
The way he said it—quiet, final—made the air feel different.
Like we both knew he wasn't just talking about canvases and brushes.
I walked into the room.
It was clean—too clean
The bed was already made, sheets smooth and crisp in a soft off-white, the blanket folded down just enough to invite someone in without words.
The air smelled… nice.
Not like his usual cologne or the lingering scent of coffee.
It was something lighter.
A mild floral scent, the kind that settles into your lungs gently, like it's been there forever.
I stood in the doorway for a second.
Just… taking it in.
This used to be his art room. I'd seen it before—half-finished canvases, pencils scattered on the desk, charcoal stains on the wall.
That Rabin.
But now?
All of it was gone.
I walked slowly toward the bed and pulled the blanket back.
The fabric was cool against my skin as I slipped in, pajamas still soft from fresh laundry, my hair slightly damp against the pillow.
I pulled the blanket up to my chest, arms still crossed by habit—still slightly aware of my current underdressed situation.
But after a moment…
My shoulders dropped.
The bed was warm.
The room was still.
And for the first time in days, I felt a little less… cold.
Y/N's POV
The next morning…
My eyes fluttered open.
For a moment, I stared at the ceiling above me—
Unfamiliar.
It took a second before my brain caught up.
Right.
Rabin's apartment.
Rabin's guest room.
I blinked a few more times, letting my eyes adjust to the light peeking in through the window.
The soft floral scent from last night still lingered in the air like a quiet reminder that this wasn't home, but…
It didn't feel strange either.
I sat up slowly, the blanket falling from my shoulders.
The off-white sheets were still perfectly tucked—of course they were.
I must've barely moved last night.
Maybe for the first time in weeks, I actually slept.
And then—
I looked down.
I slapped my palm to my face.
Y/N (muttering):
"Oh my God. It wasn't a dream."
I rushed to the door.
Still barefoot, still in my unholy pajama combo, and absolutely not ready to face the human I live in shame of.
I cracked the door open just a little and peeked—
Empty.
Thank. God.
No Rabin in sight. No threat of eye contact. No unnecessary tension.
I grabbed my chapple (a.k.a fluffy sandal) in one hand like I was carrying a weapon and started tiptoeing out.
Silent.
Graceful.
Ninja level.
But then—
Boom.
A voice from behind.
Low. Raspy.
Still dipped in morning sleep.
Rabin:
"Where are you going?"
I froze.
Completely. Froze.
My spine straightened like I'd been caught sneaking out of a crime scene.
I turned slowly—painfully slowly—like I was in a horror movie.
And there he was.
Leaning on the wall, one hand in his pocket, messy hair, half-lidded eyes.
Still in his hoodie and a jogger's
Still unfairly attractive.
Y/N (panicked):
"I was just… um… going to the bathroom??"
Rabin (teasing, groggy):
"With your slippers in your hand?"
I looked down.
Damn. Betrayed by the evidence.
Y/N:
"I didn't want to make noise!"
Rabin:
"You tiptoe like a thief, Y/N."
Y/N:
"At least I'm not the one who kidnaps people at 2 a.m."
He smirked. SMIRKED.
This man had zero shame.
He was still looking at me, slightly amused, half-asleep…
But then—
He sniffed once. Subtle.
Wiped his nose. Looked away quickly.
And then…
His eyes darted down for exactly half a second—
Then his eyes drifted away
What. The. Hell. Is he doing?
Before I could process it, he suddenly reached for the hem of his hoodie—
And in one swift motion, pulled it off.
Y/N:
"WTF?! Why are you taking off your hoodie?!"
I almost backed up like he was about to do something insane.
He didn't even answer.
Just walked up and threw it at me.
The hoodie landed right on my face like it was retribution from the universe.
Rabin (flatly):
"Wear it."
I held the fabric, dumbfounded.
Y/N:
"I—what?"
Rabin:
"I'll take you back to your apartment. Don't sneak out like a thief next time."
His voice was calm. But his ears? Slightly red.
That traitor.
I stood there, clutching his hoodie against my chest, my pajama shirt suddenly feeling way thinner than it did five seconds ago.
I wanted to melt into the floor.
Y/N (grumbling):
"I hate you."
Rabin (walking off):
"Sure. Just wear the hoodie."
We pulled up to my apartment.
I was about to open the door and make a run for it when—
Rabin:
"Take your daily necessities."
I blinked.
Y/N:
"Whattt?? Am I… living with you now?"
He gave me that flat, tired look like I was the one being dramatic here.
Rabin:
"What? Should I drive you back and forth after midnight every day? You think this is a tour bus?"
Y/N:
"Did I ask you to do that?"
Rabin:
"No. But I also didn't ask to find you in fluffy slippers and no bra in a cold apartment with a stalker under the window."
I choked on air.
Y/N:
"CAN YOU NOT BRING THAT UP AGAIN—"
Rabin (cutting me off):
"Stay. Just till you find a new apartment."
There it was again.
Rabin:
"I'm buying breakfast and coming back. Make sure to finish packing."
He didn't wait for my reaction.
Didn't ask.
Didn't give options.
Just drove off like he was on a grocery run instead of relocating a whole human being.
I stood there, still holding his oversized hoodie like it was some kind of battle flag.
Y/N (muttering):
"What am I? A kidnapped Pokémon?"
I unlocked my door and stepped inside.
Y/N (thinking):
"Is this really happening? Am I seriously moving in with Rabin freaking Angeles? Even if temporarily?"
I looked around.
My room looked so… sad now.
Like the end of a chapter.
Maybe this was necessary.
Rabin's POV
I grabbed a soy milk from the fridge section.
Just one.
Then stood there for a second.
Mango juice.
My eye twitched.
Of all things to like first thing in the morning…
Mango juice.
Sweet, thick, yellow sugar water.
Disgusting.
And yet—
I reached for the bottle without thinking.
Rabin (muttering):
"Why the hell does she like mango juice in the freaking morning…"
Next stop—sandwiches. Egg, cheese, basic stuff.
I wasn't sure what she preferred, but she never complained about food.
And then I saw the corn.
Tubs of sweet corn. Slightly buttered. Warm.
I remembered.
She always bought it from that little stand behind the studio lot.
Even during lunch breaks. Even when she was tired.
She never said much about it.
Just quietly sat in a corner, eating it like it was comfort food.
Rabin:
"Corn it is."
I grabbed two.
One for her.
And one… maybe for me this time.
I wasn't the kind of guy who did breakfast.
Not when I lived alone.
Not when I was always on the go, chasing scripts, cameras, schedules.
Most days, I just grabbed a protein bar. Sometimes not even that.
Food was an afterthought.
But ever since she started hovering around me—Y/N.
With her chaotic mornings and mango juice cravings…
I eat.
Late or early.
Tired or not.
I eat.
It's not about the food.
It's about sitting across from her while she's tying her messy hair into a loose bun.
It's about the way she holds her juice with both hands like it's sacred.
The way she complains about me being bossy while still stealing bites from my plate.
I don't tell her that. Of course not.
But when I grab breakfast now…
I grab two.
One for her.
And one because somehow, without her saying a word,
she made me realize that mornings aren't as empty anymore.
I walked back into her apartment.
The door creaked slightly when I pushed it open, the scent of her shampoo and old wooden floors greeting me before anything else.
And then I saw it.
Two luggages.
I blinked.
Put the breakfast bag down on the table. Quietly.
She came out from the bedroom, hoodie still on, hair slightly frizzy, face unreadable.
Y/N:
"You're back already?"
I nodded once.
Y/N's POV
We sat down on the floor.
No table, no fancy setup—just the breakfast bag between us, and his giant hoodie still drowning me.
He reached in and handed me a bottle.
Rabin:
"Let's have breakfast. I bought you mango juice… I thought you liked it."
I looked at the label.
It was my favorite brand.
Y/N:
"Thank you."
Our fingers brushed when I took it.
I pretended not to feel that.
He unwrapped a sandwich for himself but didn't take a bite right away.
Rabin:
"Do you like mango that much?"
I nodded, sipping slowly.
Y/N:
"Yeah. I love it."
Then he said it.
So casually.
Like it was a throwaway line.
Like it wasn't going to bury itself in my brain and echo for the next 78 years.
Rabin:
"Then I have to plant mango at my yard."
I stopped mid-chew.
Y/N:
"Huh?"
He didn't even look up.
Just kept unwrapping the sandwich like he hadn't just dropped a whole emotionally domestic bomb in the middle of my morning.
Plant mango.
At his yard.
Because I like it.
I blinked.
Y/N (quietly):
"You're weird."
And then he took a bite of his sandwich like nothing happened.