It started with the cold. The kind that crept under doors and settled into bones. November had come early that year, draping the city in wind and gray skies. Felix didn't usually mind—fall was his favorite. But that night, curled on the couch with his legs tucked underneath him, something felt different.

Across the room, Hyunjin stood in the kitchen, hands wrapped around a chipped mug. Steam curled up and disappeared into the air, just like the words Felix kept almost saying.

"Want some?" Hyunjin called, voice soft. The way it always got after 9 p.m.—like the city went quiet and left just the two of them, floating in their little apartment universe.

Felix nodded. He took the mug, brushing Hyunjin's fingers. Just a touch. Just skin. But it lingered.

"Thanks," Felix murmured, retreating back to the couch. Hyunjin followed and sat beside him, closer than usual. Their shoulders touched.

"You're wearing it again," Hyunjin said, eyeing the oversized sweater Felix had stolen months ago and never returned. "My favorite one."