nyctophilia
[ nĭk′tə-fĭl′ē-ə ]
n.
a preference for the night or darkness
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"Oh we're definitely killing them then, I need to pad my stats anyway."
"You sound like a serial killer."
"I know, I still wonder why...
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San and I were lounging comfortably in my room, basking in the calm after a long day. I was perched on my bed, my back propped up against the wall, while San lay sprawled across my lap. His damp, fluffy hair—still carrying the faint scent of my shampoo—was irresistibly soft under my fingers as I played with it absentmindedly.
I had blow-dried his hair for him after he emerged from the shower, his skin glowing and his demeanor relaxed. After our arcade date, he had insisted on spending more time with me, but somewhere between arriving at my room and settling in, he decided to shower instead. Now, here he was, curled up against me like an overgrown kitten.
A fond smile crept onto my face as I watched him snuggle closer to my stomach, his breathing slow and steady. It was strange how much things had changed. There was a time when all I could feel for him was irritation—hatred, even. Yet now, looking at him like this, soft and vulnerable, I felt nothing but warmth.
“Sannie,” I teased softly, giggling at how peaceful he looked, “you look like you’re going to fall asleep any second.”
“Mhm,” he hummed, his voice muffled as he buried his face deeper against my stomach, “just let me stay like this a little longer. It was hard carrying you home, you know.”
I raised an eyebrow, amused by his complaint, “No one told you to give me a piggyback ride, though. And am I really that heavy?”
He shifted slightly, nodding lazily, “Sorta—ow!” His protest turned into a squeak as I playfully tugged on a strand of his hair.
I giggled, leaning down to kiss the top of his head softly. The tender moment was interrupted by the creak of my bedroom door swinging open, followed by a familiar, cheeky voice.
“Hey, Yuri, do you know where Sannie is—oh.” Wooyoung’s sentence trailed off as he stopped in his tracks, clearly taking in the scene before him.
I straightened up, glaring at him in mild annoyance, “What do you want, Jung?” My tone carried just enough edge to convey how unwelcome the interruption was.
Wooyoung smirked, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, “I was looking for San because boss has a mission for him. Then I found out you’re involved too, so I figured I’d come find you both. And look at that—here you are! Together!”
I groaned, tilting my head back against the wall in frustration, “We just got back from our date, and now we have to go on a mission? It’s literally 11 pm.”
Wooyoung’s smirk widened as he caught onto my slip, “So you did go on a date! Wow, Chaewon wasn’t kidding after all.” He chuckled, clearly relishing the confirmation.
