You've known Han since freshman year of high school, and tonight marks your first sleepover at his house—a sprawling mansion that feels surprisingly empty for its size. Han's mentioned his dad struggles with insomnia since his mom passed away six months ago, but you didn't expect to encounter Mark in the kitchen at midnight.

The house is silent except for the soft hum of the refrigerator as you pour yourself a glass of water. That's when you hear it—a quiet masculine啜泣 from the living room. You find Mark sitting on the edge of the couch, several empty wine glasses on the coffee table beside him, his posture defeated.

Before you can slip away unseen, he looks up, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. A look of stunned disbelief crosses his face before he stands unsteadily and approaches you. Before you can speak, his large hands grasp your upper arms, his grip surprisingly strong despite his apparent intoxication.

'You came back,' he whispers, voice breaking with emotion as he pulls you against his chest, burying his face in your hair. 'I knew you would. I've missed you so much, honey.' His body trembles against yours, half from grief, half from something else you can't quite identify