#narin

Outside the tall windows, the campus is shrouded in the darkness of the evening sky. But inside, the fluorescent lights buzz brightly over a scattered mess of laptops and half-empty coffee cups. 

Shinyu’s group presentation is tomorrow morning. And they’ve just discovered that some of the graphs pulled data from the wrong dataset. 

“I can’t believe this happened,” Dohoon groans. “Now we have to start over.”

“There’s actually no way. I swear we literally verified the slides like fifty times,” Kyungmin adds, dragging his hands through his hair. 

Shinyu rubs his eyes, forcing himself to think past the panic rising in the room. The presentation is tomorrow. There’s no time to fix everything.

“Okay, wait,” he says. “Can you show me exactly where the numbers are wrong?”

“Here,” Sooin says as she points to a table. “The analysis on the side isn’t wrong, the numbers just don’t correspond for some reason.”

Shinyu leans forward to study the screen. His eyes move quickly as he scans the table, then the spreadsheet, then back to the presentation. Everyone’s holding their breath, no one uttering a word. 

“I think I know what’s going on,” Shinyu says suddenly. 

Everyone lifts their heads. 

“Basically, the spreadsheet that was linked to this table is wrong. Meaning the numbers have changed. There must have been a mixup somewhere when we were editing the presentation. The good news is the analysis and the writing are still correct. We only need to relink the data and update the figures.”

Relief flickers through the room.

“I can relink the graphs,” Kyungmin suggests immediately, already moving to open the file.

“I can double check when you’re finished,” Narin adds.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, you arrive to pick Shinyu up. You couldn’t help but glance through the window as you wait for him. 

From outside, you see him sitting at the center, speaking calmly as he points at the screen as the others lean in toward him. 

Eventually, the graphs and tables reappear, correctly formatted this time. 

“Oh my god,” Ella breathes. “I actually thought we were dead.”

Shinyu leans back in his chair for the first time all evening, rolling his shoulders once. 

“Seriously,” Dohoon says as he slings his bag over his shoulder,” thank god we caught that. Otherwise we’d be doomed for sure.”

Shinyu shakes his head with a laugh. 

“Make sure you get some sleep,” he calls as the room empties. 

You slip inside as the last student leaves, the door clicking shut behind you. 

Shinyu drags a hand down his face before bringing his arms above his head as he stretches, breathing a sigh of relief that sounds like it’s been waiting hours to escape. 

“Tired?” you ask, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him. 

“Exhausted,” he replies, closing his arms around you without hesitation

You start to pull back so you can walk home together, but he doesn’t budge. 

“Wait,” he says. “Just a few minutes more. I need to recharge.”

You laugh in amusement, resting your cheek against his chest. 

“You’re such a baby,” you tease. “I wonder what your team would think if they saw you now.”

“They should be thankful I didn’t panic in front of them,” he replies. “You know more than anyone that that would’ve made everything worse. 

“True,” you agree. “You already stress me out.”

“Hey,” he protests, pouting, though laughter sits faintly in his eyes. For the first time all evening, he lets himself rest.

—

The late afternoon sun hangs low over campus as students cluster in groups across the lawn. You spot him before he sees you, his tall frame towering gently over the crowd. When his eyes finally land on you, his face instantly breaks out into a small smile. Shinyu crosses the remaining distance in just a few long strides. 

“Hi,” he says. He doesn’t waste any time to intertwine his fingers with yours. 

“How was class?” you ask. 

“Long,” he answers. “I stopped listening halfway through.”

“Why am I not surprised?” you laugh. 

“Okay, in my defense, it was so boring. Like, more boring than usual,” he whines automatically. A breeze lifts his hair so it’s slightly parted across his forehead. Without thinking, you smooth it back into place. 

“Did you eat yet?” he asks. 

“I was waiting for you to finish class,” you reply. At the crosswalk, he moves so that he’s now leaning on you slightly. 

When your drinks arrive at the cafe, he reaches for your drink instead of his own, taking a sip through your straw. 

“Hey,” you accuse teasingly. 

“Tastes better,” he says, handing it back with a cheeky smile. 

You don’t push it, though you laugh at the childish expression on his face. By habit, you brush a crumb from the corner of his mouth, the half-bitten croissant sitting on the plate. 

—

You’re gathered in a study room with Shinyu and your friends. Papers are strewn across the tables, laptops lie open, highlighters scattered in a messy constellation of fluorescent colors. Shinyu sits beside you with his attention fixed on the notes in front of him. 

Most of your dates have devolved to this; you had research projects to finish, and he had his thesis. Lately, the two of you spent most of your time together studying just to stay focused. Or at least, you were. 

Thirty minutes in, his knee not so accidentally presses against yours. You continue typing. 

Ten minutes later, his shoulder leans into yours too. You shift slightly so he’s comfortable without so much of a pause. 

Then, like gravity, his head lowers to rest against your shoulder. He keeps reading on his laptop. You don’t look at him. You just continue marking your notes, your elbow brushing his. 

Across the table, someone snorts.

“He only does that with you,” Jihoon says.

Shinyu doesn’t lift his head. He simply reaches for your hand and threads his fingers through yours while his other hand flips a page.

He sticks his tongue smugly, entirely unconcerned. 

“What?” he murmurs, eyes still scanning text. “It’s comfortable. You’re just jealous.”

“Fine, fine, you win,” Jihoon gives in.

You laugh and squeeze his hand once. He squeezes back immediately.

Every few minutes he adjusts slightly, seeking warmth, until his temple rests more securely against you. When you pause to switch highlighters, his fingers tighten around yours in a soft, wordless protest until your hand settles back into place. 

—

By the time you reach your apartment, the sky has deepened into a soft evening blue. You unlock the door, and Shinyu steps inside, exhaling a sigh of relaxation immediately.

He pauses just long enough to pull his hoodie over his head, then reaches for the oversized one draped over your chair.

“Don’t you have your own?” you ask, pouting. 

“This one’s better,” he replies immediately. He pulls it on before you can argue, the sleeves swallowing his hands. 

The mattress creaks, and you glance over to see he’s already face-down across your bed, with one arm tucked under the pillow and the other dangling toward the floor.

After a minute, you cross to the bed and sit beside him. Your hand finds his back automatically, rubbing slow circles up and down. His muscles loosen almost instantly.

“I’m so tired,” he murmurs into the pillow, his voice muffled. “I don’t want to think anymore.”

“I know. Just rest a little.” 

Your hand continues its slow path between his shoulder blades. He shifts closer to the edge of the bed, making space for you without lifting his head.

“Stay,” he adds quietly.

You hum in response, and soon enough, he falls asleep. 

—

Shinyu hasn’t moved in almost two hours. At some point, he rolled toward you in his sleep, fingers curling loosely into the fabric of your shift like he was making sure you hadn’t disappeared. 

You let him rest. But it was now around dinner time. And at the very least, you were rather hungry.

You brush your fingers lightly through his hair. 

“Shinyu,” you murmur. 

A faint groan answers you. He burrows deeper under the blankets. 

“Shinyu.”

He blinks slowly, his lashes fluttering against his face before he squints up at you. 

“What time is it?” he mumbles. 

“Late enough,” you say. “You’ve been asleep for two hours.”

“Five more minutes.”

You laugh quietly and poke his shoulder. He responds by catching your hand and holding it tightly, his eyes already drifting closed again. 

“Don’t you want to eat something for dinner?” you try. 

He hums, as if genuinely considering it, then turns his face back into the pillow. You sigh, running your hand over the back of his head to smooth his hair down again. 

“And you need to shower,” you add gently. “You’ve been running around all day.”

He lifts his head just enough to squint at you. 

“Are you kicking me out?”

You laugh at his antics. He lets out a small, incredulous huff before dropping his forehead back against you. 

“You’re unbelievable,” he says, his voice still sleepy. 

You shift slightly. 

“Come on. Up.”

He doesn’t move. You wait. 

Still nothing. 

With visible reluctance, he finally pushes himself upright. The oversized sleeves slide down past his hands again. His hair sticks up in uneven angles. His eyes barely stay open. 

You can’t help but smile.

“Go shower,” you whisper. 

“You better be here when I come back,” he says, sighing dramatically as he shuffles toward the bathroom. He pauses in the doorway just long enough to glance back at you. 

You nod, amused. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

The door closes. A moment later, the sound of running water fills the apartment. You order food while you wait. 

When he reemerges, his hair damp and hoodie swapped for one of your old t-shirts, he looks more awake, though only slightly. He walks straight back to the bed and drops down beside you without a word, resting his head against your shoulder instantly. 

“Did you order something?” he asks. 

“Of course.”

He nods, satisfied, and reaches for your hand again. His fingers lace through yours automatically.