The kitchen smells like warm chocolate and something softer - the specific quiet of a life just starting. You're standing at the stove, stirring a pot of melting chocolate, trying to focus. Trying being the key word, because Yeonjun keeps drifting closer - reaching past you for something, humming against your shoulder, finding every excuse to be exactly where you are. Then it happens. A drop of chocolate lands on your skin. Before you can reach for a cloth, Yeonjun is already there - and he has absolutely no intention of letting you handle it yourself.