The next morning, the entire house felt off. It seemed like nobody had gotten enough sleep. The atmosphere was heavy, weighed down by sluggish movements and half-hearted yawns. Everyone drifted around lazily, dragging their feet, speaking little, giving off the unmistakable ahhh vibe—tired, drained, and strangely restless.
Alya, however, was the exception. She bounced into the common room with her usual spark, her sharp eyes scanning the dull scene in disbelief. "What is wrong with everybody? Why are you all like this?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the silence.
But nobody answered her. Not a word. A few blank stares, a few shoulders shrugging, and then nothing again. Alya stood there for a moment, waiting, expecting at least one of them to break. But the stillness held.
She sighed, rolling her eyes in frustration. Fine. If they weren't going to explain themselves, then she wasn't going to waste her energy trying to shake them out of it. With a quick flick of her hair over her shoulder, Alya forced herself to focus on her own tasks for the day.
In the house, the routine split as always—seven of them had morning classes to rush off to, books in hand and bags slung carelessly over shoulders. The other three had chosen to stay behind, lingering at home without any real intention of doing much. Nothing, really. Nothing at all.
Jane was among the three. She had no morning classes scheduled, and with the slow pace of the day pressing down on everyone, she didn't mind being left behind. Evening would come soon enough, and with it, her shift at work. For now, she simply waited—quiet, patient, keeping to herself.
That left the trio of Jane, Brittany, and Tim. Just the three of them, alone in the house, while the rest scattered to face the demands of the morning.
Ivan didn't want to go.
He did not want to go.
Every fiber of his being resisted the thought. He wanted to stay. He wanted to stay with Jane. He wanted to linger near her, to watch her from across the room, to maybe—just maybe—catch one of those little smiles that always seemed to undo him without warning. He wanted to be by her side, close enough to feel her presence. But he couldn't.
With a heaviness he could barely swallow, Ivan forced himself to move, to gather his things, to walk toward the door. Every step felt slower than the last, as though the air itself was dragging him back, begging him not to go. Still, he pushed through it, pulled the door open, and slipped outside. The click of the door shutting behind him echoed in Jane's chest more than she expected.
And just like that, he was gone.
The house, already quiet, now felt even heavier. The kind of silence that stretched and yawned over the walls, daring someone to break it. The three who were left—Jane, Britany, and Tim—drifted toward the living room with no real purpose, as though boredom had guided their steps.
They sat there, the three of them, with the same aimless energy. Shoulders relaxed, eyes a little tired, movements slow. Each one carried their own plan—or lack thereof.
Britany tapped her fingers against her thigh, her mind already halfway upstairs with the stack of books waiting for her. She wanted to return to her quiet comfort, to let the printed words drown out the sluggishness of the morning.
Jane, though, was different. She didn't have morning classes, and she had nowhere in particular to be until evening, when her shift at the café would drag her away. For now, she looked like someone ready to just drift through the house doing nothing, letting time crawl by.
And Tim. Poor Tim. The only guy left in the house, stuck between two girls who looked like they were seconds away from vanishing into their own little worlds. He shifted on the couch, ran a hand through his hair, and let out an exaggerated sigh that made both girls glance his way.
"Do you guys… wanna watch a cartoon or something?" he asked suddenly, his voice carrying a mix of hope and desperation.
The suggestion hung in the air for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, it landed.
Because unlike the others in the house—the ones who thought they were too grown, too mature, too big for things like cartoons—the three of them still loved it. Cartoons weren't just for kids, not to them. Cartoons were comfort. Cartoons were fun. Cartoons were escape.
Jane's lips curved into the faintest smile, Brittany let out a short laugh, and almost instantly, all three agreed.
Tim didn't waste another second. He grabbed the remote, turned on the TV, and within moments, the bright colors and familiar sounds filled the living room. The silence that had settled over them cracked open, replaced with the cheerful, goofy theme song of Teen Titans Go.
And just like that, the world outside faded.
The three of them sank into the couch, shoulders touching here and there, the glow of the screen reflecting in their eyes. Whatever had been weighing on them—whether it was Ivan's absence, Brittany's endless studies, or Jane's restless thoughts—melted just a little in the face of talking superheroes, silly jokes, and exaggerated cartoon voices.
It was simple. It was small. But it felt good.
They watched for a long while, longer than they realized, until the bright colors of Teen Titans Go felt like they had seeped into the walls of the living room. For a while, nobody moved, nobody spoke. The three of them were too caught up in the silly jokes and ridiculous antics on-screen, laughing here and there, leaning against the couch cushions like they had melted into them.
But eventually, Jane's attention began to wander. She shifted slightly, pulling her knees up onto the couch, her eyes flicking from the screen to Tim sitting at the edge of the sofa, then back to Brittany who had gone unusually quiet, her chin propped in her palm. Something restless stirred inside Jane, and before she could hold it in, she broke the silence with a sudden thought.
"Uh… Tim…" she started softly.
Tim glanced her way, eyebrows raised. "Yeah?"
Jane straightened a little, facing him directly. "I've got questions for you."
That caught his attention. Brittany, curious as ever, reached for the remote and switched off the TV in one clean motion. The screen went dark, leaving only the soft hum of the house around them. Both girls turned to Tim, who sat blinking, caught between surprise and amusement.
"You," Jane said, narrowing her eyes playfully, "you look like… Korean. But also American."
Tim chuckled, leaning back a little as if this wasn't the first time someone had said that to him.
"So that means you're… Korean American, right?" she pressed, excitement creeping into her voice.
He gave a small nod, still grinning. "Yup. You're right."
Her eyes brightened immediately. "So… first—do you have a Korean name?"
Her tone was eager, almost childlike, and it made Brittany smirk, shaking her head at how Jane's curiosity came alive so suddenly.
Tim didn't seem to mind at all. If anything, he looked a little proud as he answered, "My Korean name is Park Hyunjin. And my English name is Park Timothy."
Jane blinked at him, waiting, her eyes wide like she expected more. He caught her stare, chuckled again, and added, "My father is Korean and my mom is American." Then he tilted his head, almost teasing, "Uh… do you wanna know about the country—Korea?"
The word itself lit something up in Jane. She knew a few things, sure—bits and pieces she had picked up from books, TV, or random conversations—but hearing it from someone who lived it was completely different.
"Yes, please," she blurted out before she could stop herself.
Tim laughed under his breath. "You seem excited."
Beside her, Brittany nudged Jane lightly with her elbow, her expression amused. "Excited is an understatement."
"Yes, I am," Jane admitted shamelessly, her grin wide and unbothered.
And so it began. What started as a question turned into a conversation—long, winding, and full of new discoveries. They didn't just talk about Korea. They talked about everything. About where they grew up, about their parents, about little habits and big dreams, about the tiny quirks that made them laugh. One story led to another, and before they realized it, the boring, heavy day that had begun so lazily had been turned inside out.
It wasn't just passing time anymore. It was learning. It was sharing. It was bonding.
By the time their stomachs growled, they realized hours had slipped past. They pulled together a quick lunch—simple, but full of chatter and laughter. They ate, joked, and laughed some more, the kind of laughter that felt easy, unforced, and almost childlike.
It was fun. It was light. It was exactly what the day needed.
But fun never lasted forever. Eventually, Jane glanced at the clock and her heart gave a sharp little jolt.
Her job.
She had a new job now—one she couldn't risk being late to. Reluctantly, she stood, brushing crumbs off her lap, and grabbed her bag.
"I've gotta go," she said, the smallest frown tugging at her lips.
Tim and Brittany looked up at her at the same time, as though the sudden realization of her leaving had cut through the bubble they had been floating in all day.
And just like that, the moment broke, shifting them back into the rhythm of reality.
Taylor, Ryan, Ivan, Alya, and Rora all came in at the same time, the sound of voices and footsteps flooding the quiet house like a sudden storm. From the look of things, they had all taken Ivan's car—still laughing and tossing words back and forth as they walked through the door.
Jane was just at the entrance, bag slung over her shoulder, ready to head out. She quickly greeted them, a bright smile flashing across her face. For some reason, the words, I'm a working woman now, echoed in her head, and the thought made her chest feel lighter. Independent. Strong. She liked it. With a small wave, she rushed past them, slipping out into the fresh air before anyone could ask too many questions.
Inside, the others scattered like they always did—Taylor and Alya made a beeline for the kitchen, Ryan disappeared upstairs with Rora trailing after him. But Ivan… Ivan didn't follow. His eyes had locked on the spot where Jane had just been standing, his expression unreadable. Without saying a word to the others, he crossed the living room and stopped right in front of the couch where Tim and Brittany still sat.
"Where's she going?" His voice came low, calm but edged with something they couldn't quite place.
Tim and Brittany looked at each other, then back at him, both shrugging. "No idea," Tim answered simply. Brittany nodded in agreement, her face blank.
Ivan held their gaze for a beat longer, as though searching their expressions for any clue they weren't giving him. But nothing came. Finally, he exhaled slowly through his nose, the weight in his chest still there. Without another word, he turned away, his footsteps steady but heavy, carrying him straight toward the study.
The door clicked shut behind him.
The living room fell quiet again, but the silence wasn't the same as before.