Better here | Sim Jake

Chapter 23

The apartment had never felt this loud in its quiet.

The hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. The tick of the wall clock above her TV. The shallow rhythm of his breathing where he lay slouched across her couch cushions.

Hyeonju had been sitting in the armchair opposite him for what felt like hours, though her phone screen betrayed the truth: only forty-three minutes had passed since he collapsed there, unannounced, jet-lagged into unconsciousness.

Jake.

Here.

In her living room.

Like he hadn’t been an ocean away for weeks. Like he hadn’t just walked straight off a flight and into her apartment, without even stopping at his dorm first.

And like he hadn’t hugged her in the doorway the second she asked why he was here.

Her arms still ached with the phantom of that embrace, her skin too aware of where his jacket brushed against hers. She could still smell the faint tang of airport and cologne in the air, and it made her chest feel tight.

She told herself she should move. Make tea. Read something. Pretend this wasn’t strange. Pretend her friend who was also a world famous idol hadn’t just turned her night upside down.

But her body refused.

Her gaze kept finding its way back to him.

The way his head lolled against the pillow she’d thrown behind him, hair falling into his eyes, lips parted just slightly as sleep tugged him deeper. He didn’t look like Jake, idol of millions here — he looked like the boy who had helped her the day she moved in, the boy who texted her dumb memes at 3 a.m., the one who insisted on carrying the heavier luggage bags even when she protested.

He looked like someone she shouldn’t be staring at this long.

Hyeonju tore her eyes away and dragged her fingers through her hair, exhaling into the silence.

It was just exhaustion, she told herself.

She was only hyperaware because it had been weeks. Because she hadn’t had him this close in so long, hadn’t heard his laugh in person, hadn’t felt the steadiness of his presence filling her space. That was all.

But another part of her — a quieter, more dangerous part — whispered back: Is it really just that?

Her thumb picked at the seam of her sleeve.

She thought about the hug again. The way he hadn’t hesitated. How tight it was, how steady, like he’d been holding himself together just to make it here. Like she was the only anchor he trusted the moment he landed.

Friends hugged like that sometimes. Sure. But she couldn’t shake how it had felt. Different. Heavier.

Stop.

Her mind tried to obey, but it kept spiraling.

Did she like him?

No, not like that. Not in the like-like way. He was Jake — her texting-buddy, her friend, her ridiculous partner-in-complaints.

…Right?

But then her eyes drifted back to his sleeping form, and she thought about how her heart had stuttered when he leaned into her doorway, how warmth had flooded her stomach when he smiled at her even with tired eyes. She thought about how natural it felt, him in her apartment, like this was always where he was supposed to be.

Her chest tightened.

Maybe she was in trouble.

She pulled her knees up onto the armchair and hugged them to her chest, resting her chin on her arms. From this angle, she could see his hand draped off the edge of the couch, knuckles relaxed, veins visible under his skin. His ring caught the soft glow of the lamp, and her gaze lingered there longer than she meant it to.

Her thoughts flickered back through their years of knowing each other — the playful texts, the late-night calls when schedules got overwhelming, the way he always asked how she was before talking about himself.

All those moments had stacked quietly in her memory. Individually harmless, but together…

She buried her face into her arms. “Oh my god,” she whispered to herself, muffled.

The clock ticked.

Jake shifted slightly in his sleep, adjusting his head on the pillow, and the sound startled her more than it should’ve. She froze, watching to see if he would wake.

He didn’t.

Instead, his lips curved just faintly, like some dream had made its way past exhaustion.

That soft, almost-smile wrecked her.

Because suddenly, she could see it — the possibility. What it would mean if she did like him that way. The way it might shift everything between them, the way it might feel to step into something more than friendship.

And the way it could break her, if she was wrong.

Her heart thudded unevenly in her chest.

She told herself it was too soon to know. That maybe she was only overwhelmed by the reunion, by the surprise of him being here so suddenly after so long. Her brain scrambled for rational excuses.

But her body wasn’t buying them. Not when she felt heat creep up her neck every time she looked at him. Not when she couldn’t ignore how badly she wanted him to stay.

Do you like him, Hyeonju?

The question sat heavy in the air, unanswered.

Her phone buzzed on the table beside her, startling her out of the spiral. She snatched it quickly, afraid the sound might wake him. It was a message from her group chat with two friends she hadn’t replied to all day.

She typed a quick excuse — Busy. Talk later. — and set it back down, glancing once more at the couch.

Still asleep.

She let herself relax back into the chair, exhaustion tugging at her too, though her mind stayed restless. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, the steady anchor of it, and wondered if he had any idea what kind of chaos he’d just dropped into her quiet apartment.

If he knew what kind of questions he was stirring awake inside her.

If he knew how easily he could undo her.

She pulled a blanket from the side of the chair and tiptoed over, careful not to make a sound. Slowly, gently, she draped it over him. He didn’t stir.

She lingered for just a second too long, standing there, watching his face softened by sleep.

Then she retreated, back to the armchair, curling up small as if hiding from herself.

The clock ticked.

The refrigerator hummed.

And somewhere in between, Hyeonju admitted — if only silently, if only to herself — that maybe, just maybe, she liked him more than she was ready to.