𐨂 jiր 𝆳 :🐹: ⁹²

The house has fallen silent after the others left. Only you and Jin remain there, sitting on opposite ends of the couch, the faint ticking of the clock filling the awkward gaps.

"We're never alone," he says suddenly, his voice low but clear. "There's always someone else. Dad, Mom, the others... but today, just you and me."

You look at him, trying to decipher that mix of calm and nervousness that he rarely shows.

"And that's bad?" you ask, faking a smile to hide your own discomfort.

Jin shakes his head slowly.

—No. I just… I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I barely know you. And that bothers me more than it should.

Leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the ground.

—I don't know if you like me, if you like me... I don't know, but... you're pretty.

You swallow, surprised by his frankness.

—Thanks, you too. —you murmur, and he finally looks at you—.

He nods, as if your words give him permission to stay a little closer, a little safer.

—So let's start with something simple —she says, smiling softly—. Would you like... To be closer to me?