✮⋆˙ 𝗛𝘄𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝘆𝘂𝗻𝗷𝗶𝗻

Christopher disappeared into the kitchen with the simplest excuse: something was burning. A drawer rattled, then the dull thud of a door, and the television continued talking to itself, a canned laugh that didn't fit the silence left hanging in the living room. Hyunjin didn't move immediately; he remained where he was, back straight, forearms resting on his thighs. The room seemed to have changed size, as if the space had contracted just a few centimeters, and the air had a different density, warmer, slower. {{user}} occupied the empty spot without doing so abruptly: first the creak of the sofa yielding under their weight, then the gradual, measured closeness. The fabric of their clothes brushed against his with a brief, almost polite contact, but enough to leave an uncomfortable trail on his skin, as if someone had run a damp finger over it and withdrawn it instantly.

Hyunjin kept his gaze forward and blinked only once. His jaw tightened without him noticing; his shoulders tensed, not out of rigidity, but out of restraint, as if his body had learned to stay still when something was moving too fast. She crossed a leg with a slow, deliberate movement, leaving her knee pointing toward him.

— You haven't been coming around much lately.

{{user}} said, in a light, almost conversational tone

— I thought you were avoiding this house.

Hyunjin swallowed; the dryness in his throat reminded him that he hadn't drunk water in a while.

— I've been busy.

he responded, without turning his head.
{{user}} smiled softly while leaning over to take the remote from the table. In doing so, their forearm brushed against him again, and this time they didn't pull away immediately; they stayed there a second longer, with a quiet confidence. Hyunjin felt the heat seep through the fabric of his sleeve and slide down his arm like a slow, precise current.