Baekhyun’s apartment is everything I thought it would be. In a nice area, in a nice building and high up from the ground. He doesn’t have a penthouse, but it isn’t far off from one. It is everything I thought it would be, apart from the fact it doesn’t look lived in. There are no photos frames hung up, no smudges or fingerprints on the walls, the sofa looks barely used. Not to mention the fact that he barely has enough cutlery for himself to use, let alone anybody else. Which is why when Baekhyun asks me if I would like anything to drink when I enter and I say yes, please, three minutes later he reappears with a sheepish look and scratching the back of his neck.

“Uhm, I’m really sorry but I kind of like… don’t have a washed glass? I only have one and it’s dirty…” he mumbles from the entry way of the kitchen, trying his best to avoid my gaze from opposite him on the sofa. It is such a contrast from the usual Baekhyun I see: confident, straight forward and somewhat overpowering. Embarrassment is radiating off of him and it does not look natural on him.

“That’s okay,” I tell him, standing up from my previous position on the edge of his sofa, “I can wash it for you if you’d like.” I walk towards him, only for him to put his arm out, blocking me from entering the room. His eyes are widened in surprise and he is shaking his head in a firm no.

“No! No. No, this is my house, I’ll do it,” he argues, voice raising a little, “I don’t know why I didn’t think of just cleaning it in the first place.” He pulls his arm away from the frame, allowing me to fully enter the kitchen area. It is almost pristine. There is an island in the middle of the room, marble counter tops and a pile of papers on the edge. There are two stools on the side that extends past the cupboards underneath, intended to be used as a breakfast bar type area. The stove and the oven are at the back of the room, underneath a large window overlooking a view of the city. On top of the stove sits a single saucepan, about the size that ramen is cooked in. His sink is almost empty, save for a pair of chopsticks, that one glass and a bowl. The table tops are so clean that I am amazed that somebody even lives here. Unless he has a cleaner, I wonder.

“Do you even live here, Baekhyun?” I , his back facing me as he washes the glass in the sink. His shoulders are showcased through the simple white tee he has on, and his muscles flex as he cleans. I quickly look away from him, not wanting him to catch my stare.

“No,” he answers, turning his head to look back at me, “I just rented this place out to impress you,” he deadpans, and when I look at him warily, he chuckles. “I live here. I’ve just been having longer and more shifts recently so I haven’t been here as much.”

“How do you keep it so clean, then?” I ask, taking a seat on one of his bar stools, marvelling around the room to keep my gaze off of solely him.

“My mom comes and cleans. I tell her not to but she insists,” He turns, placing the now clean glass filled with water in front of me. Instead of moving around the island to sit next to me, he leans on the opposite side of the counter, facing me.

“Thirty years old but has his mom come and clean for him,” I giggle at the thought, even though I know my mom would definitely be the exact same. He rolls his eyes in response, yet has grin spreading across his face. The previous embarrassed Baekhyun is gone and like usual, I can now visibly see his happiness.

“So, pretty, what lecture do you have later?” he asks, his head on his hand, leaning forward onto the counter so he is now at my height, looking straight at me.

“Oh, um, criminal law. It’s only for an hour, though, so it’s not so bad,” I muster, feeling a little flustered by our sudden eye contact. He softly smiles, lifting his head from his hand and walking around to me. He holds out his hand to me and I stare at it, wondering what he wants me to do. I fleet my eyes up to him and he nods reassuringly, slightly wiggling his fingers as if telling me that it’s okay to hold it. I softly wrap my hand around his, our fingers not intertwined but still enough to make my body delve into warmth. Hand clasped around mine, he gently leads me out of the kitchen and his living area and into his bedroom. It is not much different from the other areas of the house in that it is very clean. Apart from the messily made duvet cover, there is nothing on the floor or on his bed side tables. There are two large windows on the wall to the furthest left, facing the same city view that his kitchen has. His bed is situated in the middle of the room, a cushioned bench at the end of it, two pillows in the middle. Everything is white; the walls, his furniture, his curtains and his covers. On the wall opposite the bed is a large TV, it being the only thing hung up. I cannot help but think how this apartment is so unlike him. Baekhyun is a person so full of life, so full of colour yet his rooms are so colourless. The doctor moves to sit on the left side of his bed, pulling me to sit next to him. Our hands are still clasped around one another and I have no intention of wanting to let go until he does. With his free hand, Baekhyun feels under his pillow and pulls out a remote control.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” he asks, waving the remote in his hand. H