3

The late evening sun filtered through the wide kitchen windows, casting golden lines across the marble counters. The house was unusually quiet—no footsteps, no voices, just the soft hum of the fridge and the low volume of a baking tutorial playing from Felix’s phone.

He was in a hoodie and sweatpants, sleeves pushed up, face slightly dusted with flour as he tried (and failed) to fold egg whites into batter like the girl in the video was doing so effortlessly.

“Just whisk gently, not too much pressure—like folding a pillow!” the chipper voice on the screen said.

Felix squinted. “What does that even mean…”

He huffed, adjusting the bowl and trying again. The countertop was a mess—flour trails, a few cracked eggshells, a wooden spoon that had fallen and rolled onto the floor, which he absolutely did not notice.

---

He was just about to pour the batter into the tray when—

“Mia, can you pass me a bottle of wate—”

The voice cut off halfway.

Felix turned, startled.

Hyunjin stood in the doorway, one hand holding his phone loosely at his side, the other still mid-gesture from calling out.

His eyes landed on Felix—and stayed there.

Expression: blank.

Outfit: annoyingly perfect. White tee tucked into wide black slacks, sleeves rolled, rings on his fingers like accessories that belonged in a photoshoot, not a house.

He looked unimpressed. Bored. A little like someone who had walked into a public crime scene.

Felix blinked. “Hi.”

Hyunjin said nothing.

Just raised a single brow.

Felix, trying to be polite—and frankly a little smug from the successful (ish) baking progress—reached for the fridge door. “Here.”

But before his hand could touch the handle—

Hyunjin moved.

Fast.

He stepped forward, opened the fridge himself, and pulled out the bottle with the same amount of effort he’d use to flick a fly off his shoulder.

Felix stared.

Hyunjin turned back toward the door, pausing just long enough to say, over his shoulder:

“What? I didn’t ask for your help.”

His tone was dry. Almost lazy. Not cruel, but definitely not friendly.

Felix’s jaw dropped a little, hand still mid-air.

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

But Hyunjin was already walking out, twisting the cap off the bottle as he casually answered a call on his phone with an effortless, “Yeah, I’m listening.”

Gone.

Just like that.

Felix stared at the doorway, then back at his half-mixed batter, and let out a frustrated groan.

“I hope your water chokes you,” he muttered under his breath.

------

Felix stood in the middle of the kitchen, oven mitts still on, staring proudly at the tray of golden-brown cookies cooling on the rack.

They looked... good.

Actually good.

He’d tasted a broken one and was shocked to discover it didn’t taste like burnt regret.

He smiled to himself, the kind of small, dimpled grin that came only when no one was looking.

But now came the problem.

He needed a taste-tester.

He couldn’t just walk up to Ms. Hwang and say “Hey, I was bored and tried baking. Please don’t disown me if they taste weird.”

And grandma? Absolutely not. Her standards were built in a pre-war generation and fortified with fifty years of “home remedies.”

That left one person.

The devil himself.

Hyunjin.

Felix grimaced.

He glanced at the plate, now stacked neatly with five cookies, and sighed.

This is a terrible idea.

But he grabbed the plate anyway.

---

He padded down the hallway toward the far end of the house, stopping in front of that now-infamous studio door.

He knocked.

Nothing.

Knocked again, louder.

Still nothing.

Felix frowned.

Maybe he’s not home?

But then—very faintly—he heard it.

That annoying jazz music Hyunjin always listened to. The kind that sounded like background noise for moody French cigarette commercials.

It wasn’t coming from the studio.

It was coming from outside.

He followed the sound.

Through the back hallway.

Past the tall windows.

Toward the sliding glass doors that led out to the backyard.

---

And there he was.

Hyunjin.

Sitting by the pool, his back to Felix.

White shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, pants legs pulled up just below the knees, his feet gently kicking in the water.

His phone lay lazily on his lap, screen glowing faintly, the smooth rhythm of jazz music floating through the garden.

The entire scene looked like something out of a summer photoshoot—effortless, aesthetic, untouchable.

Felix hesitated, watching him for a second longer than he probably should have.

Then he stepped closer.

Tapping him gently on the shoulder.

---

Hyunjin turned, one brow already arched, eyes narrowed like he was expecting a problem.

They locked eyes.

Hyunjin blinked once. “You again.”

Felix held up the plate, his voice uncertain but steady.

“I made cookies.”

Hyunjin stared at the plate.

Then at Felix.

Then back at the plate.

A slow blink. “...And?”

Felix cleared his throat, annoyed at his own awkwardness. “I was bored. I baked. Just—try one?”

Hyunjin didn’t move at first.

Then—with a sigh like he was agreeing to do something incredibly painful—he took one off the plate without breaking eye contact.

Bit into it.

Chewed.

Paused.

Bit again.

Felix watched like his entire existence depended on the verdict.

Hyunjin finally spoke, tone dry as the summer air:

“Not terrible.”

Felix blinked. “That’s it?”

Hyunjin handed the half-eaten cookie back. “I’m not your food critic.”

Felix scoffed. “You’re impossible.”

“Mm.” Hyunjin turned back toward the pool, tossing the rest of the cookie into his mouth like it meant nothing. “Still better company than your fiancé.”

Felix froze.

Hyunjin didn't look back.

He just stretched his legs a little further into the water and let the music drown out anything Felix might’ve wanted to say.

------

Felix hesitated, shifting on his feet as Hyunjin casually leaned back on his palms, eyes on the water, legs still swaying lazily in the pool like he had all the time in the world.

The plate of cookies felt heavier than it should’ve.

“…Can I sit?”

Hyunjin didn’t answer immediately.

He glanced at Felix, gaze sweeping from head to toe. Not in a flirty way. Not even in a judging way.

More like he was calculating how much peace he’d lose by saying yes.

Then—he gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod.

Felix exhaled quietly and moved beside him, sitting a careful distance away, placing the plate between them like a buffer zone neither of them wanted to cross.

The music played on, smooth and low, barely filling the silence.

Felix picked up a cookie and bit into it, chewing slowly.

Hyunjin did the same, still staring out at the water.

The silence stretched for another beat—

Until Felix, against his better judgment, spoke.

“Why are you like this?”

Hyunjin didn’t even blink. “Like what.”

Felix turned slightly, watching the side of his face. “Like this. Whatever you are right now.”

There was no malice in his voice.

Just genuine confusion.

Curiosity.

Hyunjin finally turned to him, chewing the last bite of his cookie before brushing the crumbs off his palm.

“I’m sitting here. Eating your mediocre cookie. Peacefully.” He tilted his head slightly. “What part of this bothers you?”

Felix frowned. “You act like you hate everyone. But then you don’t. Then you do. It’s like you’re two people.”

“I am,” Hyunjin said simply.

Felix blinked.

“Depends on who I’m talking to,” Hyunjin added, voice calm. “Some people bring out the polite me. Some bring out the tired me. And some…”He reached for another cookie.“…bring out the one who would rather jump in this pool than finish this conversation.”

Felix let out a sharp breath, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Which one am I?”

Hyunjin looked at him, really looked this time.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

The music kept playing.

Felix turned his eyes back toward the pool, the cool wind brushing against his cheek. Neither of them said anything for a long moment.

But for the first time since he’d arrived—

The silence between them didn’t feel like a wall.

It felt like the start of something neither of them could name.

------

The room smelled faintly of fresh linen and warm steam as Felix stepped out of the bathroom, towel still slung lazily around his neck. His damp hair clung to his forehead in soft waves, and his face held the soft pink tint that always came after a hot shower.

He tugged on a simple oversized hoodie—sky blue, with sleeves that slightly covered his hands—and grey sweats. Nothing special. Just comfort.

But before leaving the room, he paused in front of the mirror near the closet. He stared for a second longer than necessary.

Wiped a small smudge from the corner of his lip.

Checked if the hoodie looked too oversized.

Then finally sighed and turned the doorknob, stepping out into the hallway and making his way toward the living room.

---

The sun had nearly set by now, casting golden streaks across the marble floors of the Hwang estate. The living room, lit with warm lamps and soft classical music playing in the background, looked like something out of a lifestyle magazine.

Ms. Hwang was sitting on the single-seater near the window, knitting something delicate with a soft concentration.

Minho was on the longer couch, scrolling lazily through his phone, legs crossed like he owned the world.

They both looked up as Felix walked in.

“Ah, there you are,” Ms. Hwang said brightly, setting her knitting aside. “You look fresh, sweetheart.”

Felix smiled politely and moved to sit beside Minho.

Minho didn’t say much at first—just gave a soft nod of acknowledgment, letting his arm rest behind the back of the couch, fingers absently playing with the fabric.

Ms. Hwang smiled again, this time at the both of them.

“You two haven’t gone out in a while,” she said lightly. “Take some time for yourselves. Felix, why don’t Minho take you somewhere nice?”

Felix hesitated, surprised by the suggestion.

Minho turned his head slightly toward him, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

“Anywhere you wanna go to?” he asked, voice low and unreadable.

Felix glanced between the two of them.

His lips parted.

But the answer didn’t come right away.

He didn’t know if he was allowed to say "somewhere quiet."Or "somewhere no one will talk."Or even "anywhere Hyunjin won’t be."

So instead—

He just blinked and gave a small shrug.

“I... don’t know. Maybe a drive?”

Minho gave a lazy half-smile. “A drive it is.”

Ms. Hwang clapped her hands together lightly. “Good. Go freshen up, Minho. It’ll be good for you both.”

As Minho stood up to leave the room, Felix’s eyes followed him for a moment—then drifted toward the hallway, where, somewhere out of view, he knew Hyunjin was probably sketching, or sulking, or existing in that mysterious vacuum he always seemed to create.

Felix wasn’t sure why he cared.

But he did.

More than he should.

------