Chapter Text
The first time Yushi’s closet knocked back, he ignored it.
He had a midterm outline open on his laptop, three highlighted paragraphs he had already read five times, and just enough pride left to refuse losing an argument with a closet.
The dorm was old.
The heating pipes made sounds.
The wind pressed against the windows.
People on this floor were not exactly quiet either, especially after midnight, when assignments stopped making sense and everyone’s imagination turned into a group project.
Yushi lowered his eyes back to the screen.
Nothing about the room had changed, technically.
His notes were still messy, his water bottle catching the pale light from the desk lamp, his blanket warm over his lap.
And the closet stood exactly where it always did, narrow and ugly, beside the door.
Closed. Normal.
“Old pipes,” Yushi muttered under his breath, in case the room needed to hear how unimpressed he was.
The room did not answer.
Good.
He read the same sentence again and understood none of it.
Outside, wind moved through the trees, branches dragging softly against one another in dry, uneven whispers.
Somewhere above him, someone laughed too loudly.
Footsteps passed once, then faded.
Normal old-building sounds from students who needed hobbies.
Yushi picked up his phone.
Not because he was scared.
That would have been stupid.
He was simply taking a healthy, academically responsible break.
TikTok opened to someone ranking convenience store snacks.
Yushi turned the volume low and watched without absorbing a word.
The closet knocked again.
Yushi froze.
This time it was not a scrape or a creak.
It wasn’t the uncertain shift of wood settling in an old, miserable building designed without student mental health in mind.
A knock.
Soft, patient, from inside.
Cold sweat gathered at the back of Yushi’s neck.
The video kept playing in his hand, bright and ridiculous, while the room around Yushi seemed to pull itself tighter.
His fingers twitched once around the phone, too tense to move properly.
“No,” he said.
His voice came out thinner than he wanted.
The closet said nothing.
Yushi paused the video slowly, thumb slipping once against the screen.
Silence opened around him so completely that he could hear the small unevenness of his own breathing.
For one stupid second, before the group chat, campus security, or the senior on his floor who always looked like he knew too much about everything, his mind went straight to one name.
Sion hyung.
Three doors down.
Yushi hated how fast it came to him, like fear had reached into his body and shaken Sion’s name loose before his pride could object.
Ridiculous.
Sion was probably asleep.
Or busy doing responsible older-student things when he was not helping former exchange students survive basic tasks.
Yushi lowered his phone to his lap and glared at the door again.
He had survived moving countries, group presentations, Korean delivery apps, and Sion’s far-too-patient witness to all three.
He was not going to lose to a closet.
Yushi sat there for ten seconds, then long enough for the silence to stop feeling like silence and start feeling like something waiting.
His phone screen lit up when he moved his thumb.
2:53 a.m.
Too late to knock on anyone’s door.
Too early to pretend he could survive the rest of the night alone.
Yushi swallowed.
The closet knocked a third time.
Louder.
He was standing before he decided to move.
His blanket slid from his lap.
He grabbed it halfway down, wrapped it around his shoulders with more panic than dignity, and shoved his feet into his house shoes by the door.
His hand hovered over the light switch.
He looked back at the closet.
Nothing moved.
It only stood there, quiet again, as if it had never wanted anything from him at all.
Yushi’s hands were trembling.
“Fine,” Yushi whispered, as if he had been personally challenged.
“You win one round.”
Then he opened his door and stepped into the hallway.
The hallway was worse.
Inside his room, at least the fear had walls.
Outside, it stretched long and empty beneath weak lights and closed doors.
No one else was awake.
Yushi pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders and began walking.
Three doors.
That was all.
His room. One door. Two. Sion.
Easy.
At the far end of the hallway, the window showed the dark shape of the trees outside.
Their branches moved against the glass, throwing thin shadows across the floor.
They stretched too long, too quick, like black fingers dragging themselves over the tiles toward him.
Yushi knew they were branches.
His body still disagreed.
He kept his eyes forward.
Mostly.
A branch scraped the window.
Yushi walked faster.
The hallway light above him flickered just as he reached Sion’s door, brief but enough to make his heart jump and to send a shudder through him.
He lifted his hand and knocked before he could think better of it.
Nothing.
He stood there in his blanket and house shoes, trying very hard not to look back at the window.
Then he knocked again, quieter this time, but more desperate somehow.
Movement sounded inside.
Yushi stared at the line of light beneath the door, relief hitting before Sion even opened it.
The lock clicked and the door opened.
Sion stood there in a loose shirt and sleep-mussed hair, half-awake and immediately present in the unfair way he always was, like even sleep could not fully disorganize him.
Annoyingly handsome too.
“Yushi?”
His voice was rough.
Yushi turned back too fast.
He had still been looking at the window.
“Hyung,” he said, voice higher than usual.
A terrible opening.
Sion blinked once.
His gaze dropped to Yushi’s blanket, his house shoes, then up to his face.
Yushi realized, with sudden horror, that his eyes were probably still too wide.
He fixed his expression immediately or tried to.
Sion looked past him into the hallway.
Then back at him.
A second passed.
“What happened, the old pipes?” Sion asked.
Yushi stared at him.
Sion’s mouth moved like he was fighting a smile.
Yushi pulled the blanket closer around himself.
“I changed my mind. Maybe the house architecture can be evil.”
Sion’s smile appeared properly this time, sleepy but far too fond for nearly three in the morning.
“Architecture?”
“Yes.”
“Evil.”
“Do…Do you want me to go back?”
Sion’s smile softened around the edges.
“No,” he said, and stepped aside.
The single word landed softer than it should have.
Yushi hesitated only long enough to preserve the illusion that he had options. Then he slipped past Sion into the room.
Sion closed the door behind him and the hallway disappeared.
Sion’s room was softer than the corridor, lit only by the desk lamp beside an open notebook and a cold mug of coffee.
His bed was unmade, the blanket pushed back from where he had been sleeping before Yushi ruined his night.
Everything looked normal.
Then Sion’s scent reached him.
Clean laundry, cedar wood, and faint coffee bitterness.
Not perfume.
Nothing obvious to name without embarrassing himself.
Just something familiar and quiet, woven into the room in a way Yushi knew too well.
His breath slipped out before he could stop it.
Relief, probably.
Unfortunately, it sounded close to something softer.
Sion leaned back against the door, watching him more closely now, sleep fading from his eyes.
“You came here because of the architecture,” he said.
Yushi turned around, blanket still tight around his shoulders.
“I came here because your room is closer than campus security.”
“My room is three doors away.”
“Exactly. Very practical.”
Sion hummed, unconvinced.
Yushi looked away first, which was becoming a pattern he did not appreciate.
His gaze landed on Sion’s desk, the open notebook, the pen lying diagonally across the page.
“You were awake?” he asked.
“Not anymore.”
Yushi winced despite himself.
“Sorry.”
Sion’s expression shifted so subtly that Yushi wished he had not said it like that.
“You looked less offended when I helped you order cheeseballz,” Sion said.
Yushi blinked at him.
Then the memory arrived, horribly clear:
his first months here, the app refusing to cooperate, Sion leaning over his shoulder while Yushi pretended he understood more Korean than he did, the cheeseballz arriving twenty minutes later like victory.
“That was different,” Yushi said.
“How?”
“That was a cultural adjustment.”
“It was a delivery app.”
“It had too many buttons.”
Sion laughed softly.
Something in Yushi’s chest loosened before he knew why.
Then, from somewhere beyond the closed door, the building creaked.
Yushi went still.
His head dipped a little before he could stop it, shoulders rising under the blanket as if his body had tried to make itself smaller.
Sion noticed immediately.
The amusement faded from his face, not gone completely, but tucked away with care.
“Hey,” he said, quieter.
Yushi forced his shoulders down.
“It’s nothing.”
“Yushiya.”
“I know it’s nothing.”
Sion did not answer.
He knew how to be silent in ways that made lying harder.
Yushi looked at the floor.
The blanket had slipped down one shoulder, and he pulled it back up too quickly.
Sion’s gaze followed the motion.
“You’re cold,” he said.
“I’m not.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m judging the building.”
“At three in the morning.”
“It deserves criticism.”
For a moment, Sion only looked at him.
Then he pushed away from the door, crossed the room, and picked up the sweatshirt from the chair.
“Wear this.”
Yushi stared at it.
“Hyung.”
“Your blanket is losing.”
“My blanket is doing its best.”
“It can do that over this.”
Yushi should have argued longer.
But Sion held out the sweatshirt like a normal solution, and Yushi’s hands were cold, and Sion’s presence was already doing something dangerous to his breathing.
So Yushi took it.
The sweatshirt was too big in the sleeves.
When he pulled it on over his shirt and gathered the blanket back around himself, the fabric settled over him with Sion caught in it, clean and unfairly comforting.
Yushi looked down at the sleeves covering half his hands.
It helped.
That was the embarrassing part.
The worse part was that Sion probably knew.
Sion did not tease him for it.
Only his lips curved, small and pleased, like Yushi had given something away by accepting it.
Then he moved the mug from the desk, cleared a space on the chair, and said,
“Sit down before you keep pretending you’re fine and fall over.”
Yushi looked at the chair, then at Sion’s warm-looking bed beside him.
A terrible thought moved through him before he could name it.
“I’m fine,” he said.
Sion raised one eyebrow.
So Yushi sat down.
The sweatshirt sat heavy over his shirt, soft at the wrists, the blanket gathered around his shoulders.
Beneath the layers, his breathing evened out before he could pretend it had nothing to do with Sion.
That was almost more embarrassing than being scared.
Sion watched him notice it.
“Tea?” he asked.
“At three in the morning?”
“You came here because your room has opinions.”
Yushi looked up. “Is tea your answer to everything?”
“No. Just you shaking in my room.”
“Fine.”
Sion’s mouth curved, small and tired, and he turned toward the kettle. He moved quietly, like he was trying not to startle the room.
Yushi watched the line of his shoulders, his sleep-mussed hair.
He should have looked away sooner.
He didn’t.
When Sion handed him the mug, his fingers brushed Yushi’s, warm against the cold edge of his hand. It lasted less than a second.
Yushi felt it travel farther than it should have.
His hands tightened around the mug, heat pressing into his palms, while Sion leaned back against the desk and let the silence settle.
Yushi pulled the blanket higher without meaning to, tucking himself deeper into it, into Sion’s scent, into the stupid comfort of being here.
Sion’s gaze softened.
“So,” he said. “Still architecture?”
Yushi stared into the tea.
“Mostly.”
“Mostly. The closet contributed.”
Sion hummed.
“Should I check it?”
Yushi answered too fast.
“No.”
The word came out sharply enough that even he heard it.
Sion’s expression changed immediately.
The teasing left him, replaced by something quieter and more dangerous as he pushed away from the desk.
“If something scared you that badly, I can look,” Sion said.
“You don’t have to go back in first.”
The possessive edge in his voice was quiet, but it was there.
Yushi’s throat tightened.
He wanted to make a joke, something about Sion fighting his closet or giving campus security competition.
Instead, he looked down at the sleeves hanging over his hands.
“I don’t want to be alone with it,” he said.
The words fell softer than he meant them to.
Sion did not answer right away. He knew when not to make something smaller.
Then he said,
“You came to the right door.”
Yushi looked up.
Sion’s face was calm, but his eyes were not.
They were awake now, fully, fixed on Yushi with a focus that made the sweatshirt feel warmer.
“Campus security would’ve checked the closet,” Sion added.
Yushi swallowed.
“And you?”
“I’ll stay.”
The answer landed low in his chest.
Yushi tried to smile.
“Very heroic. Sleeping through a haunting.”
“If it knocks again, I’ll glare at it.”
“That’s your plan?”
“It works on freshmen.”
Yushi laughed, but it came out too quiet, too relieved.
Sion’s gaze dropped once to Yushi’s mouth, then away.
When he looked back, Sion looked tired again, but there was nothing in his face that made Yushi feel unwelcome.
He glanced at the bed, then back at him.
“I’m going back to sleep,” he said.
“You can stay until morning.”
Yushi’s fingers tightened around the mug.
“On the chair?”
Sion looked offended.
“Do I look that cruel?”
“There’s a couch.”
“It’s smaller than you.”
“It is not.”
“It is if you keep all that pride on it with you.”
Yushi huffed, heat crawling up his neck.
“I can sleep there.”
Sion’s mouth tilted.
“Afraid I might jump on you?”
The room went very quiet.
Yushi stared at him.
Sion’s expression stayed almost innocent, which somehow made it worse.
“I didn’t say that,” Yushi said nearly breathless.
“You didn’t answer either.”
Yushi looked away first again, which was becoming a terrible pattern for his dignity.
Sion’s smile softened before it could become too sharp.
He took the mug from Yushi’s hands and set it on the desk, then nodded toward the bed.
“There’s space.”
Yushi stood slowly, blanket still wrapped around him.
“You always say things like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like they’re simple.”
Sion held his gaze.
“Maybe this is.”
It was not.
Yushi knew it from the way Sion looked at him, from the silence collecting between them as if it had nowhere else to go.
Still, he followed.
At the edge of the bed, Sion touched the sleeve of his own sweatshirt on Yushi.
“This comes off.”
Yushi blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“You’ll overheat with that, the blanket, and me.”
The last two words landed too naturally.
Yushi’s face warmed.
“And you decide that?”
“It’s mine.”
“It’s on me.”
Sion’s eyes moved over him, slow enough to be felt.
“I noticed.”
Yushi forgot what he had been about to say.
Sion only grinned, pleased and unfair.
“You can keep the blanket.”
“Can I?”
“As a one-time exception.”
“How generous.”
“I’m known for that.”
Yushi pulled off the fabric before he could think too much about Sion watching. His shirt rode up a little, cold air touching his skin.
Sion’s gaze flicked there, then away with visible effort.
Good.
At least Yushi was not losing alone.
They lay down facing the same direction at first, Sion near the wall, Yushi closer to the edge with the blanket tucked under his chin like proof this was normal.
It was not.
Sion was too close.
Every shift of sheets sounded louder.
Then Sion moved, just slightly, and their shoulders touched.
Yushi went still.
Sion did too.
Neither of them apologized.
After a while, Yushi turned his head.
Sion was already looking at him.
“You’re staring,” Yushi whispered.
Sion’s gaze did not move away.
“You came to my room wrapped in a blanket and still tried to sound brave.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s hard not to look at you when you’re like this.”
Yushi’s breath caught.
Sion’s voice stayed low with sleep, but nothing in his eyes was careless.
“Like what?”
Sion’s hand lifted slowly.
Slow enough that Yushi could move away if he wanted.
He didn’t.
He brushed a strand of hair away from Yushi’s face, his fingers lingering afterward at his cheek.
“Mine, to keep safe for tonight,” he said.
Yushi’s eyes widened.
The words should have sounded ridiculous.
Too much.
Too close to a claim Sion had never made before, and something Yushi had not known how badly he wanted to hear.
Heat moved through him, slow and unmistakable.
“Sion,” he whispered softly.
Sion’s touch shifted lower, thumb resting near Yushi’s jaw now.
Yushi’s gaze dropped to his lips.
The room seemed to hold its breath with them.
Sion leaned closer.
Yushi closed his eyes before he could stop himself.
Then something knocked.
Once.
Right outside the door.
Yushi’s eyes flew open.
Sion had gone still too, his face still close enough that their breaths touched.
The knock came again, slow and patient, and this time it did not come from Yushi’s closet.
It came from the hallway.
Sion turned toward the door but did not pull away.
His hand stayed near Yushi’s cheek, grounding, like he had chosen that place and would not give it up to the dark.
Yushi should have been scared.
He was.
But Sion was between him and the door now, his body a quiet line of warmth beside him, his eyes fixed on the sound outside.
The hallway waited.
Then something knocked a third time, farther away now.
Three doors down, Yushi’s own room answered.