𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒉𝒐’𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒛𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒋𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒃 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈.
The dorm is quieter than usual for a Friday night. The kind of quiet that makes every sound—every page turn, every small breath—feel like it fills the whole room.
You and Jongseob are on the couch, a tangle of warmth under a soft gray blanket. The movie that had started hours ago is long over, leaving the screen paused on Netflix’s “Are you still watching?” message. The two of you, however, are in your own little bubble—his arms looped loosely around your waist, your cheek resting on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
He had been talking earlier, something about the beat he was working on, and you remember the way his voice had started to fade, slower, lower, until it just melted into a hum that blended with the whir of the heater. You’d nodded along, fighting the sleep creeping into your eyes, but at some point you lost that fight.
Now, the only movement in the room is Jongseob’s slow breathing and the faint rise and fall of your chest against his.
Meanwhile, the door clicks open.
Keeho steps inside, balancing a convenience store bag in one hand and his phone in the other. He’s humming softly, camera pointed at himself.
“Hey guys, I just got back from the store,” he says brightly, going live without even realizing how much chaos he’s about to cause. “I was craving those mochi ice creams again, so I might’ve gotten, uh, six.”
He laughs, shaking the bag for effect. The fans flood the live immediately—comments scrolling too fast for him to read.
He moves through the living room, holding up the camera to show the snacks, the drinks, the mess of blankets and hoodies strewn around the couch. “The others are probably in their rooms right now,” he adds casually, still looking at the screen, “but look at this. The dorm’s so peaceful tonight.”
And then he turns the camera just a little to the side.
Just enough to show the couch.
Just enough to show you and Jongseob.
The comments explode instantly.
“They look so cozy omg my heart.”
Keeho freezes mid-sentence. His eyes flick toward the couch—and there you are. Curled up on top of Jongseob, blanket tangled around you both, his arm still draped protectively over your back. His lips are slightly parted, head tilted just enough that his breath brushes your hair.
Keeho’s mouth opens and closes like he wants to say something, but all that comes out is a whispered, “Oh… my bad.”
He quickly covers the camera with his hand, laughs awkwardly, and stammers, “Uh—okay, I’m gonna end this live now before I get in trouble. Bye guys!!”
Keeho stands there for a second, frozen. Then, he quietly tiptoes to his room, muttering to himself, “They’re never gonna let me live this down.”
A few minutes later, the faint buzz of a phone stirs the air.
His lashes flutter, brows knitting together as he slowly wakes up. You’re still asleep, soft and heavy against him, and he can feel the weight of your hand resting against his chest. For a moment, he just lies there—eyes half-open, the warmth of your body sinking into his bones.
Then his phone buzzes again.
With a groan, he reaches out, trying not to wake you as he grabs his phone from the coffee table. The screen lights up—hundreds of notifications. Mentions, tags, group chat messages.
Opening one of the messages from Keeho, he finds nothing but a text:
Below it, a link to a fan Twitter account.
And there it is. A paused screenshot from the live. You, asleep on his chest, his arm wrapped around you, both of you looking like something out of a soft drama scene. The tweet caption reads:
“JONGSEOB AND HIS GF ARE THE CUTEST THING EVER 😭💕 #keeholive”
He scrolls—there are already edits, gifs, fan comments, heart emojis flooding everywhere.
“They look so peaceful 😭”
“You can tell he really loves her.”
“P1H dorms are the new romcom set omg.”
Jongseob covers his mouth, half mortified, half trying not to laugh too loudly.
“Oh my god… Keeho…” he whispers, shaking his head.
He looks down at you again. You haven’t moved an inch. Your hair’s slightly messy from the nap, your cheek pressed against his hoodie, and your hand is still loosely clutching the fabric near his collar. He feels his heart melt instantly, the embarrassment fading just a little.
You look so peaceful—like you’re right where you’re supposed to be.
“Of course they caught this moment,” he mumbles softly, running his fingers lightly through your hair. “Couldn’t have been when we were eating ramen like normal people, huh?”
He scrolls again, seeing more and more fan reactions—memes, screenshots, and captions calling you both “the softest duo ever.”
He sighs, a mix of amusement and disbelief, and leans his head back against the couch.
Then, softly, almost to himself, he whispers, “Guess the world knows now, huh?”
Your body shifts slightly at the sound of his voice. You murmur something, barely awake, and your fingers tighten around his hoodie.
He freezes. “Hey,” he whispers, brushing your hair out of your face. “You awake?”
You hum quietly, still half-asleep. “Mmh… warm…”
He smiles. “Yeah, you are.”
“Why’s your heart going so fast?” you mumble without opening your eyes.
Jongseob laughs quietly, trying not to wake you fully. “No reason. Just… something funny happened while we were asleep.”
You make a small noise, clearly too comfortable to care, and nuzzle closer against him. He sighs softly, wrapping his arms back around you, deciding that maybe the world can wait.
Right now, he’s got everything he needs right there in his arms.
When you finally wake up, the first thing you notice is the warmth.
Something solid, steady, and breathing beneath you. You blink a few times, disoriented, and your eyes land on the familiar black hoodie you know too well. You’re sprawled right on top of Jongseob, your hand fisted gently in the fabric near his collar.
He’s awake—barely. His gaze is on you, soft and a little amused, and his hand is resting at the small of your back like it’s been there all night.
“Hey,” he murmurs, voice still thick with sleep. “Morning… or, well… whatever time it is.”
You groan quietly, shifting a little. “Did we fall asleep here?”
He smiles, brushing your hair from your face. “Yeah. You knocked out like halfway through that movie.”
You hum, nestling back into his chest. “You didn’t wake me up?”
“Didn’t want to,” he says simply, his tone somewhere between fond and teasing. “You looked too peaceful. Plus, you’re really warm.”
You’re too sleepy to respond, but then his phone buzzes again—loud this time.
You both glance at it, and you catch the dozens of notifications still piling in. Mentions, tags, messages, unread texts from Keeho.
“Why is your phone blowing up?” you ask, sitting up slightly.
He hesitates, biting his lip. “Uh… okay, so… funny story.”
You give him a suspicious look. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything!” he protests quickly. “It’s Keeho.”
“…that’s never a good start.”
He winces. “He went live when he came home last night and, uh, kind of accidentally showed us on the couch.”
Your eyes widen. “Showed us how?”
He rubs the back of his neck, nervous smile forming. “Like… sleeping. Together. You know… this.” He gestures vaguely between you two.
You freeze, staring at him. “No.”
“Like on camera? With fans watching??”
“Oh my god, Seob—” you bury your face in your hands. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“I wish I was,” he sighs, handing you his phone. “It kind of… went everywhere.”
You scroll through the feed, jaw dropping at the screenshots and tweets. There’s you, head tucked against him, blanket half slipping off your shoulder, and him—mouth slightly open, hand protectively around your back. The caption reads:
“They look like a K-drama couple 😭💗 #KeehoLive”
“Oh my god, they even made edits?” you groan, seeing one with slow music and sparkles. “Why are there sparkles?”
He laughs, half-embarrassed. “They really did. There’s even one with the caption ‘Love found asleep.’”
You shove his shoulder lightly. “That’s not funny!”
“It’s kind of funny,” he argues through a grin. “Like—come on, we look cute.”
You try not to smile, but his expression—equal parts proud and shy—makes it impossible. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Maybe a little,” he admits. “But only because it’s you.”
That makes your heart do a small flip, the kind you try to hide by turning your attention back to his phone. “Still… what if people say something weird?”
He glances at you, and his expression softens instantly. “Hey,” he says quietly, taking the phone from your hands. “Don’t worry about that.”
“People can say whatever they want,” he continues, his tone lower now—calm but sure. “They don’t know us. They don’t know what we have. And honestly…” He chuckles softly. “If they think we look happy together, that’s fine by me.”
You blink, taken aback by how genuine he sounds.
“You’re not mad?” you ask.
“Mad? Nah.” He shrugs. “It’s kind of on-brand for Keeho anyway.”
That earns a laugh from you, small but real. “Yeah, that’s true.”
He grins. “See? You’re laughing already.”
You nudge his knee with your hand. “Still can’t believe he caught that moment though.”
“What, the part where you drooled on my hoodie?”
Your head snaps up. “I did not!”
He snickers. “You totally did. Tiny bit.”
You smack his chest with a pillow. “You’re such a liar!”
“I’m serious!” He laughs harder now, grabbing the pillow mid-swing. “Don’t worry, I didn’t mind. It’s cute.”
You stare at him, trying to keep a straight face, but his grin is too contagious. The air between you fills with that familiar, playful energy—the kind that makes your stomach flutter no matter how long you’ve been together.
After a moment, the laughter fades into quiet again, the good kind of quiet.
You lean your head against his shoulder, and he slips his arm around you easily, fingers tracing slow circles on your back. The world outside—the notifications, the fans, the chaos—feels like it’s miles away.
“Still sleepy?” he asks softly.
“Wanna go back to my room? It’s warmer there.”
You hum, pretending to think. “You’re just saying that because you want to cuddle more.”
He smirks. “And if I am?”
You roll your eyes but can’t hide the smile pulling at your lips. “Fine. But you’re explaining this to Keeho when he gets out.”
“Oh, I plan to,” Jongseob says, mock-serious. “I’m going to tell him he owes us bubble tea for emotional damage.”
You laugh quietly, standing up and stretching. “You’re ridiculous.”
He follows you to his room, blanket still wrapped around both of you like a shared cocoon. Once inside, he flops onto the bed and pulls you down with him, ignoring your half-hearted protest.
“What? You said we could cuddle more.”
You sigh, but the moment his arms circle around you again, it’s impossible to be annoyed. He’s warm, solid, and familiar—everything that feels like home.
“Next time,” you mumble into his chest, “we’re locking the door when we fall asleep on the couch.”
“Next time,” he echoes with a smile, brushing a hand through your hair, “I’m hiding Keeho’s phone.”
You both laugh softly, and the sound blends with the quiet hum of the dorm.
Then, just as your eyes start to close again, his voice comes—low, almost a whisper.
“Just so you know…” he pauses, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “Even if the whole world saw it… I don’t mind. Because it was real. You’re real.”
Your chest tightens, warmth spreading all the way to your fingertips.
“Me too,” you whisper back, smiling against him. “Always.”
He exhales slowly, his hand still tracing patterns on your back, and for a long, peaceful moment, there’s nothing but the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.
Outside the door, a faint voice echoes through the hall.
Keeho, groaning dramatically:
“You guys better not be mad at me—also we’re trending again, so you’re welcome!”
You and Jongseob both burst into laughter.
“Yeah,” Jongseob says, pulling you closer, “definitely bubble tea.”
