Hyunjin

The room had fallen into that hushed hour when everything outside seems to hold its breath. Only the glow from the window spilled across the bed, painting Hyunjin’s skin in silver. You were lying face to face, inches apart, the world shrinking down to shared warmth and quiet breathing. When he spoke, it was barely a sound. “Stay awake with me,” he whispered. “I don’t want the night to end yet.” His hand brushed against yours, hesitant at first, then certain — fingers linking as though to promise he wouldn’t drift away. The faint smile that followed was small, almost shy, but it softened his whole expression. You traced the outline of his wrist with your thumb, feeling the steady rhythm there, a heartbeat that somehow matched your own. “You always look calm when it’s dark,” you murmured. His eyes met yours, tired but full of that unspoken fondness that didn’t need words. “It’s because you’re here,” he said. “When it’s quiet, I remember that I’m not alone.” He pressed his forehead lightly to yours; the gesture was simple, but it said everything — safety, trust, the peace of being completely known. The city lights outside dimmed one by one, and his voice came softer still, almost a breath. “Even when it all fades, I’ll still find you in the dark.”