Between my helpless moping, I hadn’t realized the time had passed.

Helped outside, I’d only just then realized the sun had long since fallen, deep shadows painting the night in black. Clearly, it was far past my bedtime. Returning home, I was almost positive that my mother would blow a fuse. I wasn’t supposed to stay out this late. She had set a curfew for a reason after all.

“I can go from here,” I pointed, eyes pointed down, “you should go home too, your parents’ll worry.” Unlike me, Daehyun wasn’t a useless good for nothing. He had people waiting for him at home I was sure.

He shrugged, rolling his eyes, “My parents aren’t ever home anyways.” A smirk playing his lips, he moved to throw his arms across my shoulder, a finger pushing the corners of my lips in queer directions. “I wouldn’t feel right leaving you to go home by yourself right after you pretty much cried yourself out.”

I did not cry myself out.

“Now smile, before I force you to.”

Hissing, I elbowed him in the stomach, hastening my steps to make my escape. I didn’t need him to try and make me feel better. “Shut up.”

Laughing, as if nothing had been wrong just minutes prior, Daehyun made to catch up with me, again returning his arms around my shoulders. It wasn’t fair how he was able to make everything seem better. He wasn’t supposed to be able to do this to me.

In our silence – one too comfortable to be counted as awkward – we made the rest of our way to my house, him trailing playfully at my heel, at times, skipping around me like a restless puppy. It was cute, to say at the least.

But it wasn’t long before we made it to the front steps of my house.

And now it was time to part, as much as I regret it.

“We’re here. Now go home.”

But he remained, that teasing chuckle rumbling against his chest. Why wouldn’t he leave?

“I can’t until you let go.”

I hadn’t realized I had been holding him, my fingers gripped tightly around the fabric of his school uniform. Truthfully, I didn’t want to let go. He felt safe.

“Youngjae? Is that you?” From behind us, across the street, a bright light (headlights, whiter than the rest, reminding me an awful lot of my mom’s) struck out, blinding me momentarily. “Yoo Youngjae, why are you home so late.” Speak of the devil, and she shall appear.

Daehyun laughed. It was funny for him; everything was funny for him. “You should go. I’ll see you tomorrow. I expect you at the store to teach me again by the way.”