The next morning started badly.
And somehow—
Got worse.
Minjae knew something was wrong the second he stepped into the kitchen.
The sink was full.
Not just a cup or two.
Full.
Bowls. Chopsticks. A pan he definitely hadn't used.
Water dripped slowly from the edge, forming a small puddle on the counter.
Minjae stared at it.
In silence.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
"Morning."
Minjae turned sharply.
Seungho stood in the doorway, hair slightly messy, like he had just woken up. He looked… annoyingly relaxed.
Minjae pointed at the sink.
"What is that?"
Seungho followed his gaze.
"Oh. That." He shrugged. "I was gonna wash it."
"You were?"
"Yeah."
"When?"
Seungho thought for a second. "Eventually."
Minjae closed his eyes.
Counted to three.
It didn't help.
"You don't leave things like this," he said, his voice tight. "You use something, you clean it."
Seungho leaned against the wall. "Didn't realize there were rules."
"There are now."
Seungho huffed out a small laugh. "You always were like this."
Minjae's expression hardened. "Like what?"
"Uptight."
The word landed wrong.
Too familiar.
Too easy.
Minjae stepped closer. "And you're still the same."
Seungho raised an eyebrow. "Am I?"
"Yes."
"Funny," Seungho said quietly. "I was thinking the opposite."
Minjae frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Seungho didn't answer right away.
He just looked at him.
Really looked.
And for a moment, the air between them shifted.
"You used to fight back more," Seungho said.
Minjae froze.
"That was before I realized it didn't matter."
The words came out colder than he intended.
Seungho flinched.
It was small.
Barely noticeable.
But Minjae saw it.
And it threw him off more than anything else had.
Because—
Seungho didn't flinch.
Not before.
Not ever.
"…Just clean the sink," Minjae muttered, turning away.
He didn't wait for a response.
Didn't want to.
Because something about this—
About him—
Didn't feel right.
Later that day, Minjae came home expecting more chaos.
More mess.
More reasons to regret everything.
Instead—
The apartment was quiet.
And clean.
He stepped inside slowly, eyes scanning the space.
The dishes were gone.
The counter was dry.
Even the shoes by the door had been moved slightly to the side.
Minjae frowned.
"…Seungho?"
No answer.
He walked further in.
And found him—
Asleep on the couch.
One arm hanging off the side, breathing slow and steady.
For a moment, Minjae just stood there.
Watching.
This wasn't the Seungho he remembered.
Not the loud, sharp, untouchable person who filled every room with confidence.
This version was…
Quiet.
Worn down.
Human.
Minjae's chest tightened slightly.
"…What happened to you?" he murmured.
Seungho shifted slightly in his sleep but didn't wake.
Minjae looked away quickly.
He shouldn't care.
Didn't want to care.
And yet—
He grabbed a blanket from his room.
Walked back.
Hesitated for a second—
Then draped it over him.
"Don't get used to it," he muttered under his breath.
Even though Seungho couldn't hear him.
That night—
For the first time since he moved in—
Minjae didn't feel completely alone.
And that…
Might have been the most unsettling thing of all.