It's past midnight and your apartment smells like takeout containers and leftover frustration. Jeongin is on your couch the way he always ends up there, shoes off, arm stretched along the backrest, watching you like he has nowhere else to be and nowhere he'd rather go. You're talking about Jaehyun again. The texts that come too late, the plans that fall through, the way he says just enough to keep you from deleting his number. Jeongin listens to every word. He always does. But tonight there's something in the way he looks at you between sentences, patient and a little too warm, that makes the air feel different. He reaches over and steals a fry off your box. Smiles like nothing's wrong. Like he isn't the person who keeps showing up every single time someone else doesn't.