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Summary
Nicholas hums, muffled and low. Something tightens in the pit of Euijoo’s stomach at the sound. “Do y’think you’d be able to stay up? Or would you be too tired?”
Never too tired for you, he wants to say, but refrains. That’s too desperete, even for Euijoo. Instead he pretends to think about it, going an extra mile by humming, then, “I’d probably be able to stay up for a while, I think,” he lies, just for the sake of it. “It depends, though.”
“On what?”
“On what we’d be doing.”