After the balcony kiss, things didn't magically become easy.

They became real.

And real was scarier.

The next morning at practice, everything felt normal — too normal. The others were laughing, stretching, arguing about breakfast like always.

But every time Dohoon walked past Hanjin, their shoulders brushed on purpose.

Small.

Subtle.

Intentional.

During choreography rehearsal, there was a part where they had to spin past each other and change positions.

This time, when Hanjin turned, he was slightly off balance.

Dohoon grabbed his wrist instantly.

Not part of the choreo.

Just instinct.

Their eyes locked.

"Focus," Dohoon murmured softly, close enough that only Hanjin could hear.

"I am," Hanjin replied.

But his focus wasn't on the dance.

Later, during break, Hanjin sat alone scrolling on his phone.

Dohoon walked over and sat beside him without asking.

No words.

Just close enough that their knees touched.

Hanjin leaned slightly into him.

Dohoon didn't move away.

That small act said more than any confession.

That night in the dorm, Hanjin hesitated outside Dohoon's room.

He knocked softly.

When the door opened, neither spoke.

Hanjin stepped inside.

And without asking, he wrapped his arms around Dohoon's waist.

Tight.

"I just wanted to make sure you're still here," Hanjin whispered.

Dohoon held him back just as firmly.

"I told you," he said quietly. "I'm not running anymore."