Ji-Hyun hadn't meant to end up this close to him.
One moment they were arguing about which movie to put on, the next she had leaned a little too far forward, Seon-Woo had reached out on instinct, and somehow—somehow—they ended up sitting on the same armchair. It wasn't big enough for two people, not really, so she'd shifted to find space, and he'd shifted to give her more space, and it resulted in her carefully settling herself across his lap like it was the only comfortable position left.
Neither of them commented on it at first.
Neither of them could.
The room felt quieter than the world outside the windows, like the air itself didn't dare move. The movie selection screen blinked silently on the TV, waiting for someone to choose something, but neither of them looked away from each other long enough to care.
Ji-Hyun had one hand lightly resting against his shoulder so she wouldn't lose balance. Seon-Woo had placed his hands on the sides of the chair, not touching her but close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.
Her knees framed his sides.
His gaze framed hers.
"Your face is turning red," Seon-Woo said quietly, a small smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.
"It is not."
She said it too fast.
"Mm. Sure."
He tilted his head. "You know I can literally see you, right?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Then stop staring so much."
"I'm not staring," he said. "I'm just… looking."
"That's the same thing."
"Not really."
She opened her mouth to argue, but the words dissolved on her tongue when he finally moved—a subtle shift, his hands lifting from the armrests and hovering at her waist. He didn't grab her. Didn't pull her closer. It was simply a silent question.
Her breath caught. She didn't answer with words, just nodded once.
He turned her gently so she was facing him fully, knees bracketing his hips, her hands now on his shoulders for real, steadying herself. She could feel his heartbeat through the fabric of his shirt, strong and steady.
His voice dropped.
"Is this okay?"
"Yeah," she whispered. "It's… fine."
But the word "fine" didn't match the way her chest felt tight and fluttery at the same time.
For a long moment, they said nothing. His eyes searched her expression carefully, as if memorizing every shift. It wasn't the intense kind of gaze that melted your brain. It was gentler, but no less overwhelming.
And then he leaned forward just a little bit.
Her heart jumped.
Her thoughts tangled.
His forehead brushed hers before anything else, a soft touch that made her inhale sharply. He waited—one second, two, three—giving her every chance to pull away.
She didn't.
So he finally closed the distance.
It wasn't a deep kiss, nothing wild or breathless. Just the kind where everything slows down, where their breaths mix warmly, where her fingers tightened slightly on his shoulders and his hands settled—not gripping, just resting—around her waist as if guiding her closer without actually pulling her there.
She felt her stomach flip, felt her chest warm, felt the world go oddly quiet.
He pulled back only a centimeter, enough for her eyelashes to brush his cheek as she blinked.
"You always do that," he murmured.
"Do what?" she asked in a shaky whisper.
"Hold your breath."
"I do not."
"You absolutely do."
He smiled softly, but it wasn't teasing this time—it was something closer, something realer. She didn't know what to call it.
Before she could say anything back, he lifted his phone with one hand.
"Huh?" Ji-Hyun blinked at him. "What are you—?"
"Just sit normally," he said quietly.
She instinctively froze, suddenly hyper-aware of the position she was in. "Seon-Woo—"
He didn't take a picture right away. He looked at her first. Really looked.
There was no mischievous spark, no joking smirk.
Just a soft expression, almost thoughtful.
"You look…" He paused. "Different today."
"That's not helpful," she muttered.
"I mean—comfortable," he corrected. "Like you're not pretending anything."
The words stunned her for a second.
He was right.
She wasn't pretending.
Not tonight.
She didn't know how to respond. So she didn't stop him when he finally tapped the shutter. The sound was quiet, but her heart still jumped at it.
"Seon-Woo—why did you—"
"Relax," he said, lowering the phone again. "It's just… a memory."
She opened her mouth to protest, but the argument faded before it reached her lips. She wasn't even sure why. Maybe it was the way he said it—softly, not claiming anything, not demanding a reaction.
Just… keeping something he wasn't ready to let go of.
She sighed, her shoulders dropping.
"Fine. One picture."
His smile widened a little. "Just one?"
"Don't push your luck."
He laughed—quiet, almost breathless. The kind of laugh she didn't hear from him often. The kind that made something warm unfurl in her chest.
She didn't realize how close their faces still were until she felt his breath again.
And then he leaned in the slightest bit—
Before anything could happen again, the sharp, loud, absolute opposite-of-romantic DING-DONG of the doorbell cut through the moment like a knife.
They both stiffened.
Ji-Hyun froze.
Seon-Woo's eyebrow twitched.
The air between them shattered instantly.
"…Who the heck—" he began.
But the bell wasn't just ringing.
It was slammed again.
Then again.
Then—
"JI-HYUN! OPEN THE DOOR!"
Her entire body went cold.
She recognized that voice.
No.
No, no, no.
Not him. Not here. Not now.
Her ex's voice was unmistakable—loud, impatient, and already edged with anger. The same tone he always used when something didn't go his way.
Seon-Woo's hands immediately left her waist, but not because he was startled. His entire posture changed. His back straightened, jaw tightening, eyes sharpening with a calm sort of alertness she'd only seen a few times.
Ji-Hyun scrambled off his lap, breath shallow.
"He can't be here—why is he here—what—"
A fist pounded on the door this time.
Hard.
"JI-HYUN! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!"
Seon-Woo stood up, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder before she could panic further.
"Hey," he murmured. "Look at me."
She tried—really tried—but her breathing was too fast. Memories of the last argument with her ex flashed in the back of her mind—the shouting, the accusations, the way he would never take no for an answer.
Seon-Woo gently tilted her chin so she had to meet his eyes.
"You're safe," he said quietly. Firmly. "He's not coming in here."
She swallowed hard. "But—"
Another slam rattled the doorframe.
"I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU DON'T OPEN—"
Seon-Woo's expression went cold. Completely emotionless.
He gently moved her aside, stepping between her and the door without hesitation.
"Stay here," he said.
"Seon-Woo—please don't—don't start anything."
"I'm not going to."
He placed one hand on her shoulder again. "I just want him to stop yelling at you."
"Yelling at your house too," she muttered weakly.
His lips twitched. "Exactly."
She didn't want him opening that door.
Not when her ex was in that kind of mood.
Not when things were already tense.
But before she could stop him, the bell rang again—hammered repeatedly like the person outside had run out of patience completely.
Seon-Woo unlocked it.
He didn't open it wide—just enough to stand in the gap.
Ji-Hyun's ex practically lunged forward but stopped short when he saw who was in front of him.
"…Who the hell are you?" he snapped.
Seon-Woo didn't answer the question immediately.
He just stared. Calm, unbothered, and somehow more intimidating for it.
"You're at the wrong house," he said finally.
"I am not," the guy barked. "Ji-Hyun is here. I need to talk to her."
"No," Seon-Woo replied.
"What do you mean 'no'—move—"
He tried to step forward, but Seon-Woo shifted, blocking him effortlessly.
"I said no."
The guy growled under his breath. "Why is she in your house anyway? You think you can just—"
"Watch your tone," Seon-Woo cut in.
Ji-Hyun had never heard his voice like that.
Not loud. Not angry.
Just terrifyingly steady.
Her ex scoffed. "Wow, you think you're tough or something?"
"No," Seon-Woo said simply. "I just think you shouldn't shout her name through a neighborhood like a maniac."
Her ex's gaze snapped toward her, finally noticing her standing behind Seon-Woo.
"Oh, so you're hiding behind him now?" he spat. "That's what we're doing? Seriously?"
Ji-Hyun flinched.
Her fingers twitched.
Seon-Woo immediately shifted half an inch, enough to block her fully from view.
"Last warning," he said. "Leave."
"Or what? You'll fight me?"
The guy laughed—loud, mocking, too confident.
Seon-Woo didn't raise his voice.
Didn't move aggressively.
Didn't even glare.
He just said, "Or I call the security office and let them deal with you screaming on private property."
That shut the yelling down instantly.
Her ex's jaw tightened.
His nostrils flared.
He looked between them—first at Seon-Woo, then at Ji-Hyun, then back again.
"This isn't over," he muttered finally. "Ji-Hyun, we need to talk."
"No," she said, surprising herself. "We don't."
His eyes went sharp.
"You think this guy is going to protect you from everything?"
Seon-Woo didn't respond with words this time.
He simply closed the door.
Firmly.
Deliberately.
Final.
The silence afterward felt deafening.
Ji-Hyun's breath trembled. She didn't even realize she was shaking until Seon-Woo turned to her.
"Hey," he said softly now, voice completely different from the one he used at the door. "It's okay."
She tried to nod but couldn't.
So he stepped closer—slowly, like approaching a frightened animal—and placed a gentle hand on her arm.
"You're safe," he repeated.
Her chest loosened a little.
He guided her back to the couch, not forcing her to sit, just leading her away from the door. She sank down automatically, her adrenaline fading into exhaustion.
After a moment, he sat beside her—not too close, giving her space.
"You didn't do anything wrong," he said quietly.
She swallowed hard. "He always… makes it feel like I did."
Seon-Woo looked at her for a long, thoughtful second.
"Then he's wrong."
She let out a shaky laugh. "You're too calm about this."
"I'm not," he admitted. "But one of us has to be."
Silence settled again, softer this time.
Eventually, she leaned her shoulder lightly against his—not clinging, not hugging, just resting.
He didn't move away.
Didn't fuss.
Just stayed there.
And somehow, that alone was enough to make her breathing steady again.