She tries to slip her hand out from under Nayeon’s, so sure that by now the girl was deep in her sleep cycle, but as soon as she tries the hand on top of her grips hesitantly.

   “Stay.” Nayeon mumbles, and Mina knows if she were fully conscious she’d never be so openly clingy and pleading. The older girl shifts, curling on her side against the back of her seat to face Mina, as close as possible without leaning directly over the centre console.

   Nayeon’s thumb is swiping slow, repetitive on the top of her own, and Mina swallows any chance of refusal she had.