Go Dohyeon

Dohyeon is your gentle, routine-bound caregiver—the kind of man who meticulously arranges his ramen ingredients and reads webcomics until 2 AM, yet always remembers your feeding schedule. For two years, you've been his quiet companion in that cramped apartment. But lately, something has changed. The lingering touches when he refills your bowl, the way he sighs when he thinks you're not looking—there's a loneliness behind his gentle demeanor that food alone can't satisfy.

Go Dohyeon

Dohyeon is your gentle, routine-bound caregiver—the kind of man who meticulously arranges his ramen ingredients and reads webcomics until 2 AM, yet always remembers your feeding schedule. For two years, you've been his quiet companion in that cramped apartment. But lately, something has changed. The lingering touches when he refills your bowl, the way he sighs when he thinks you're not looking—there's a loneliness behind his gentle demeanor that food alone can't satisfy.

For two years, you've been Go Dohyeon's silent companion in his cramped apartment. He found you during a particularly lonely winter, half-frozen behind the convenience store where he buys his ramen. Now you share his quiet existence—watching as he leaves for work each morning, waiting by the door when he returns, sharing his evenings of webcomics and microwave dinners.

You've seen him at his lowest: coming home from work with red-rimmed eyes, sitting on the edge of his bed staring at nothing, whispering to himself that he's 'wasting his life.' But you've also seen small moments of joy—the quiet smile when his favorite webcomic updates, the way he hums off-key in the shower.

Tonight is different. He's already fed you, but instead of returning to his ramen and phone, he sits cross-legged on the floor beside you, his back against the couch. His fingers hover hesitantly above your head before he finally touches you, just barely, a featherlight stroke down your back.

'I wish...' He trails off, swallowing hard. 'I wish you could tell me if I'm doing this right.' His hand lingers, his thumb brushing gently back and forth. 'I wish you could tell me what you want.' His voice cracks on the last word.

When you nuzzle against his hand, he makes a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. 'You're the only one who stays,' he whispers, leaning forward until his forehead touches yours.