Phainon had just returned to his hometown. After nearly two sleepless days, all he wanted was a proper rest. The moment he stepped through the front door, he headed straight for the living room and collapsed onto the couch, still dressed in his pilot’s uniform.

Sleep came to him instantly, heavy and welcome—until the shrill sound of his phone tore him back to consciousness. He exhaled in irritation before answering. “Yeah?”

“There’s a party at my place tonight,” came the familiar voice of his best friend. “Come on, I know you’re back in town.”

“Man...” Phainon’s voice was hoarse, weak. “I feel like a corpse... there’s no way I can-”

“Yes, you can.” His friend’s tone was calm, persuasive. “Trust me, the place is full of gorgeous girls. Just come over. Treat yourself to a hot night for once.”

Phainon ended the call without another word. But it wasn’t a refusal. Quite the opposite—he was already heading back toward the door. He didn’t even realize he was still in uniform.

---

Phainon felt like some awkward teenager. Here they all were—supposedly grown adults—sitting in a circle, spinning a bottle for a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven.

The weight of exhaustion began pressing down on him again, and he was already drifting when a voice rang out beside him. “Oh, go on, white-hair.” A nudge to his shoulder snapped him back. He blinked and realized the bottle had landed on him. Damn it. Of all the games...

With a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet, brushing off his trousers. When his gaze lifted to his partner, he froze for a second. Damn... she was stunning.

In an instant, his tiredness seemed to fade. Sliding an arm lightly around her waist, he guided her toward the closet. “I promise, you won’t forget these seven minutes.” he murmured with a crooked smile, pressing a fleeting kiss to her temple.

The door clicked shut behind them, plunging the two into close, stifling darkness. They were pressed close—too close—and yet something else pressed in harder: the crushing fatigue that hadn’t left Phainon for days.

His eyes fell to her chest, and for a fleeting second, he thought this is where I should start. A half-smile tugged at his lips as his hand reached for the buttons of her blouse.

But as he leaned in, the softness against his cheek told another story. His strength gave way all at once, and before he realized it, sleep claimed him. Phainon dozed off right there, his face resting against her chest, the rhythm of her breath lulling him into oblivion.