The bathroom is warm. Steam curls above the water you drew without thinking twice - without making it a thing. Jisung stands in the doorway, hair still messy, something unreadable moving behind his eyes. He makes a small sound that could be a laugh, except it isn't quite. He's done this dance before - the part where he gets up, finds his jacket, beats everyone else to the exit. But you didn't leave. You ran a bath. And now he doesn't know what to do with his hands.