Hyunjin and Felix have been in love for so long that sometimes it feels impossible to remember where one of them ends and the other begins.

They met years ago.

Back then, neither of them knew what they were looking for. They were just two teenagers trying to survive school, friendships, expectations, family, exams, and the strange feeling that childhood was slowly slipping away from them.

Hyunjin was the quiet, artistic one who always seemed to have a sketchbook somewhere nearby. Felix was the boy who could walk into a room and make it feel warmer without even trying.

They weren’t supposed to become inseparable.

It just happened.

First came sitting together.

Then walking home together.

Then staying up too late talking about absolutely everything.

Then sharing headphones.

Then falling asleep beside each other.

Then the first kiss.

After that, there was really no going back.

A year later, and completely, ridiculously, hopelessly attached.

Not the dramatic kind of love people write songs about.

Something softer.

Something that lives in the little things.

Hyunjin knows Felix’s coffee order without asking. Felix knows which songs Hyunjin listens to when he’s upset. Hyunjin knows when Felix is pretending he’s fine. Felix knows when Hyunjin needs to be left alone — and when “leave me alone” actually means come here and hold me.

They know each other’s habits, moods, insecurities, favourite foods, embarrassing stories, comfort shows, dreams for the future, and all the tiny things that nobody else notices.

They’ve become each other’s safe place.

Which is probably why they spend so much time at home.

Their bedroom has slowly become its own little universe.

Clothes are thrown over chairs. Sketchbooks are left open on the floor. Chargers disappear beneath blankets. Half-empty drinks sit on the bedside table. There are photographs tucked into mirrors, hoodies that belong to the wrong person, and far too many pillows because Felix insists they need them.

The curtains are usually half closed.

There’s almost always music playing.

And there’s almost always one of them lying across the other.

Some days they don’t leave the house at all.

They wake up late, complain about being hungry, argue over who has to get out of bed, order food, and crawl straight back beneath the blankets.

They watch movies without paying attention because they’re too busy talking.

They scroll through their phones with their heads resting against each other.

They study for twenty minutes before getting distracted for two hours.

They fall asleep in the afternoon and wake up confused about what day it is.

They kiss for no reason.

They hold hands without thinking about it.

Sometimes Felix will be halfway through telling Hyunjin a story when Hyunjin suddenly leans over and kisses him, completely derailing the conversation.

Sometimes Hyunjin will be drawing and Felix will quietly crawl into his lap, resting his chin on his shoulder until Hyunjin eventually gives up and puts the pencil down.

Neither of them complains.

Because this is what their relationship has become.

Comfortable.

Warm.

Almost embarrassingly affectionate.

They still get butterflies.

They still stare at each other when they think the other isn’t looking.

They still kiss like they’re sixteen and discovering each other for the first time.

But there’s something deeper now.

A familiarity that feels almost like knowing someone in another lifetime.

They joke that they’re soulmates.

Then one of them gets quiet and admits that maybe they aren’t joking.

Because Hyunjin can’t imagine his future without Felix somewhere in it.

And Felix can’t imagine growing up without Hyunjin beside him.

But growing up is happening whether they’re ready for it or not.

School is ending.

People are making plans.

Friends are talking about university, jobs, moving away, relationships, money, and everything else that comes with becoming an adult.

Suddenly, the future doesn’t feel like some distant thing anymore.

It’s right outside their bedroom door.

And neither of them knows exactly what it’s going to look like.

Maybe they’ll end up somewhere completely different from where they imagined.

Maybe they’ll change.

Maybe everything around them will change.

But for now, they have this.

A tiny bedroom.

A shared blanket.

Two phones charging beside the bed.

A playlist they’ve listened to a thousand times.

Cold takeaway sitting on the desk.

Rain tapping against the window.

And each other.

They’re still young enough to spend an entire afternoon doing nothing and call it a good day.

Still young enough to kiss in the kitchen just because they walked past each other.

Still young enough to stay awake until three in the morning talking about their childhoods and then wake up at noon tangled together.

Still young enough to believe that maybe they can figure everything out as they go.

And maybe they can.

Because whatever happens next, they won’t be figuring it out alone.

Hyunjin has Felix.

Felix has Hyunjin.

And right now, that’s more than enough.

So close the curtains.

Ignore the messages.

Forget about tomorrow for a little while.

Climb back into bed.

There’s nowhere else either of them would rather be.