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The Distance Between Blows
by Auggie Ryn
MinxSung
---
| Chapter 2 |
Han came out of the showers still warm, hair damp enough to curl at the ends, towel looped loose around his neck like an afterthought. The locker room felt different emptied out, quieter, the fluorescent lights too bright without bodies to soften them. He rubbed at the back of his head, already mentally cataloguing food options, still buzzing from the way the last combination had finally clicked.
He half expected Lee Know to be already waiting, just outside the locker room doors...
Instead, he found him at the mirror.
Lee Know stood square to it, jacket on, fingers precise as he finished adjusting his cuffs. Everything about him was contained, deliberate, like he was closing a door inside himself one careful latch at a time. The locker room door behind them was locked, the small laminated sign flipped to SECURITY, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it.
Han slowed without realizing it. He leaned a shoulder against the lockers, watching the reflection instead of the man himself. Lee Know didn't look up right away.He didn't need to. He already knew where Han was, how close, the angle of his weight, the sound of his breathing. That awareness was part of the job.
"Hyung," Han said lightly, voice echoing just a bit in the empty room. "You always take this long, or is today special?"
Lee Know finished buttoning one cuff before answering. "You rush everything," he said, flat. "Including your exits."
Han grinned at the mirror. "I'm efficient."
That got a quiet huff, barely a sound, but one that loosened something all the same. Lee Know finally lifted his eyes, meeting Han's gaze in the glass for a brief second before turning away to grab his bag.
Han took that as his cue.
He stepped forward, towel slipping from his shoulders as he reached out and caught Lee Know's wrist, fingers closing with easy familiarity. No hesitation. No question. Just the simple, cheerful assumption that they were done here.
"Come on," Han said, already turning towards the door. "I'm starving. And if we don't leave now, I'm going to start making terrible decisions."
Lee Know went still.
Not visibly. Not dramatically. Just enough that the movement stalled for half a breath, the grip on his bag tightening as his body recalibrated around the unexpected contact. Han didn't notice. He was already moving, tugging gently, already talking.
"There's this place down the street with the ridiculous number of trays," Han continued, "You know the one. I can absolutely destroy that place right now, and maybe hit my proteins in the process..."
Lee Know exhaled through his nose and let himself be pulled.
"Watch where you're going," he said, voice controlled, as he reached past Han to unlock the door. The click echoed loud in the empty space.
They stepped out together.
The hallway beyond the locker room was dimmer, cooler, the hum of the gym returning in layers as they walked. Han dropped his wrist but stayed close, matching Lee Know's stride without thinking about it. He rolled his shoulders, loose and satisfied, energy still sparking through him.
"That last drill," Han said, glancing sideways and up at Lee Know, "I'm telling you, it felt different. Like my body finally listened."
Lee Know's eyes flicked to him, quick and assessing, then forward again. "Don't get sloppy," he said. "Feeling good is when people get careless."
Han laughed, unbothered. "You say that like I wasn't careless before."
"You were predictable," Lee Know replied. "There's a difference."
They passed the front desk, the attendant giving them a brief nod, already used to the way they moved as a unit. Lee Know scanned out of habit, eyes tracking reflections in glass, the open space beyond the doors, the timing of the automatic lock, and of course, his charge.
Han didn't slow.
He pushed through the front door with his shoulder, sunlight spilling in, already talking over his own momentum.
"Okay, but hear me out," he said, stepping onto the pavement. "If it's a buffet, it's technically macro training, right? Carb loading. Protein recovery." He grinned.
Lee Know followed him out, the door swinging shut behind them with a soft thud.
He adjusted the strap of his bag, eyes sweeping the lot, posture settling back into its familiar guard.
"Get in the car," he said, keeping his watch.
Han's smile widened as he climbed into the driver's seat. Lee Know had not yet been able to convince his charge that it would be worth it, to give up driving himself.
Artists.
The drive to the restaurant was a study in contrasts. Han was a livewire in the driver's seat, drumming an erratic rhythm against the steering wheel, humming off key, babbling about everything and nothing. The post-workout high was still coursing through him, a potent cocktail of endorphins and pride.
Lee Know, in the passenger seat, was a statue carved from granite, other than his eyes, which kept a constant eye on the cars around them, the timing of the lights, the rearview and side mirrors, his gaze a constant, sweeping patrol. His hands rested neatly in his lap, still.
Silent.
Every bounce of Han's knee, every flick of his eye, every stray hum was a data point Lee Know logged and filed away, a stark reminder of the vibrant, chaotic every he was supposed to be containing, not contemplating.
Han parallel parked with a cocky flourish that made Lee Know's jaw tighten. "See? Efficient," Han said, killing the engine. He was already unbuckling, bouncing again with his feet pressed tight against the floor boards, to lift himself from his seat. He opened the door without waiting for Lee Know, then paused when the man let out a gruff cough, unbuckling his own belt. Lee Know got out from the car, coming around to open the door for Han, since this is a busy road.
The restaurant was a familiar choice, a popular spot with a bustling main floor and a quieter, more exclusive upper level. It was the kind of place that offered privacy for a price, and Lee Know had vetted it a dozen times. The hostess greeted Han with a professional but deferential smile.
"Good afternoon, sir. Table for two?"
"Actually," Lee Know stepped forward, his voice low and firm, "We'd like a private dining room."
The request hung in the air for just the briefest moment, the hostess already lifting the phone to have it prepared. Han, who had been glancing around the lively dining room, turned back to him, his smile faltering into a look of confusion. "A private room? Hyung, why? It's busy down here. It's more fun!"
"It's also less secure. Demonstrably so," Lee Know stated, his eyes already scanning the room's exits and sightlines, his bodyguard instincts overriding everything else.
He wasn't asking.
He was stating procedure. But Han, still riding the high of his success at the gym, wasn't in a procedural mood. He let out a soft, disbelieving laugh.
"Secure? We're getting Korean BBQ, not planning a heist or trip to a government building."
He turned back to the hostess, his charm kicking back into place. "Just a regular table is great. Actually, can we get one near the window? I like watching the street."
The hostess nodded, fingers already hovering over the tablet. "Right this way, sirs."
Han smiled, easy and bright, already turning back toward the dining room like the decision was settled.
Lee Know didn't move.
His gaze swept the floor again, slower this time. The glass frontage along the windows. The steady churn of people outside, phones out, reflections bleeding into reflections. The way the afternoon light cut across the room at a low angle, turning faces into silhouettes if you sat wrong.
Not ideal. Not even close.
Han was still talking, oblivious. "I like watching the street. Makes waiting for the food feel shorter."
Lee Know inhaled once through his nose.
"Actually," he said, his voice calm, unhurried, the way it always was when he was about to override something, "the aquarium section would be better."
Han paused mid-step and turned back, brows knitting in mild surprise. "The fish?"
"Yes."
The hostess glanced between them, already adjusting the reservation on her screen without question.
Han tilted his head, processing. "I mean, sure, fish are cool, but the window's right there."
Lee Know stepped closer, not crowding, just enough to place himself squarely at Han's side. His eyes flicked briefly to the large, curved glass tank along the interior wall, water glowing blue-green, schools of fish moving in slow, predictable patterns.
"Less foot traffic," he said evenly. "Quieter. Better lighting."
"For the fish?" Han asked, half teasing.
"For you."
That earned a blink.
Han opened his mouth, then closed it again, glancing toward the aquarium. The soft light. The way people naturally drifted around it instead of clustering. The gentle hush it seemed to create in its orbit.
"Oh," he said, something like interest slipping into his voice. "Okay, yeah, that does look kinda nice."
Lee Know didn't relax. Not internally. The checklist kept ticking.
The hostess smiled. "Aquarium seating is available. Follow me, please."
They moved together through the dining room, Lee Know subtly positioning himself between Han and the flow of other people without ever touching him.
Han didn't notice.
Or maybe he did, in the same way he noticed rhythm without counting beats, despite not being able to carry a tune in a bucket.
Painters.
They stopped in front of the massive tank. Light rippled across the table, reflections dancing lazily over polished wood and glass. The ambient noise dropped a notch, softened by water and distance.
Han leaned forward immediately, hand braced on the table, eyes tracking a slow moving ray. "Oh, wow. This is actually awesome."
Lee Know took the seat with his back to the room, sightlines clear, reflections controlled, exits mapped in seconds. He set Han's bag down at his feet, posture settling into something familiar and precise.
"See?" Han said, grinning at him. "Good call, no private room."
Lee Know gave a brief nod.
It was, and the fact that it felt good for him too, was none of Han's business.
Han forgot about the menu almost immediately.
He leaned closer to the glass, forearms resting on the edge of the table, chin tipped up as a school of silver fish curved past in a slow, synchronized wave. The light from the tank washed over his face, blue and green and shifting, catching in the damp ends of his hair, softening the sharper lines of him into something almost unreal.
"Oh," he murmured, barely audible over the hum of water. "That one's huge."
Lee Know followed the direction of his gaze automatically, cataloguing the tank out of habit. Depth. Lighting. No blind spots behind the glass. No movement that wasn't predictable.
Safe.
His eyes slid back to Han before he could stop himself.
Han watched the fish with the same intensity he brought to everything else, when he forgot the rest of the world existed for a moment. His mouth hung slightly open, the tip of his tongue pressing against his teeth as he tracked motion, breath slow and even now that the post-workout buzz had settled. One hand lifted unconsciously, fingers tracing the path of a ray as it passed, like he might feel it through the glass if he tried hard enough.
Lee Know stilled.
This was NOT part of the checklist.
He was supposed to be scanning the room. Counting heads. Tracking reflections. Watching hands and exits and the subtle shifts in posture that preceded trouble.
Instead, he found himself watching the way Han leaned into wonder without reservation.
The way his shoulders dropped when he relaxed. The way his weight shifted forward, balanced on the balls of his feet even sitting down, as he did in the car, like he was always ready to move. The faint crease between his brows when a fish disappeared behind coral and didn't immediately reappear.
Adorable.
Lee Know's jaw tightened.
Across the table, Han laughed softly to himself as the ray looped back into view. "Okay, nevermind, this was absolutely the right call," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "You're a genius."
Lee Know didn't answer right away.
Once again, he found he couldn't, his breath caught in his throat.
Han turned fully this time, smile easy, eyes bright, "Hyung?"
Lee Know's expression shutters closed as he blinks once, the room snapping back into place around him, though... not fast enough to Han to completely miss it. Lee Know clears his throat, "Eat your food," he said, gruffly, "When it gets here."
Han laughed again, unbothered, already turning back to the tank. "Bossy."
Lee Know watched him do it.
Watched the line of his neck as he tilted his head. Watched the faint sheen of moisture in his hair, catching the aquarium light like something precious. Watched the way Han existed so fully in the moment that it never occurred to him that he was being observed.
Lee Know could never.
And that, he realized distantly, was the real danger.
Not the windows. Not the crowd.
Han's complete, unguarded trust.
The server arrived with water, the clink of glasses pulling Lee Know back just enough for him to straighten, posture resetting, eyes sweeping the room once more.
Across from him, Han reached for his glass without looking, still watching the fish, smiling to himself like the world was exactly as it should be.
Lee Know wrapped his fingers around his own water and took a slow drink.
This was going to be a problem.
Han didn’t notice the menu until Lee Know slid it closer to him.
“You need to order,” Lee Know said.
Han blinked, as if surfacing from underwater. He looked down at the laminated pages like they’d materialized without warning.
“Oh,” he said. “Right. Food.”
Lee Know didn’t react. He was already scanning the room again, posture unchanged, attention split cleanly between Han, the server’s approach, and the reflections in the glass behind them.
Han picked up the menu with both hands and immediately leaned back, eyes skimming without really reading.
“Wow,” he murmured. “There’s… a lot happening here.”
“That is generally how menus work,” Lee Know replied.
Han snorted, unoffended. “You say that like it’s not a personal attack.”
The server appeared beside the table, polite and patient, pad in hand. Han looked up with an easy smile.
“Sorry,” he said cheerfully. “I got distracted by the fish.”
“That happens,” the server replied, glancing briefly toward the tank. “Take your time.”
Lee Know did not miss the way her attention lingered half a second longer than necessary.
“He’ll have the set menu,” Lee Know said calmly. “Extra protein. No substitutions.”
Han turned to stare at him. “Wow. Okay. Bossy.”
Lee Know didn’t look at him. “You burn through calories irresponsibly.”
“I burn through calories artistically,” Han corrected, flipping the menu shut. “But yeah, fine. That works.”
“And for you, sir?” the server asked.
Lee Know didn’t hesitate. “The same.”
Han’s eyebrows lifted. “You don’t even look?”
“I already know what’s on it.”
“That’s kind of sad,” Han said, then brightened. “Efficient, though.”
Lee Know gave the server a brief nod. “Water is fine.”
“Coming right up,” she said, already backing away.
As soon as she was gone, Han leaned forward again, elbows on the table, chin tipped toward the glass.
“Okay,” he said thoughtfully. “I get why you picked this spot.”
Lee Know’s gaze flicked to him. “Because it is controlled.”
“Because it’s calming,” Han said. “And nobody stares at us when there’s fish.”
Lee Know did not respond.
Han watched a ray drift past, slow and deliberate. The post-workout buzz had faded into something quieter now, a pleasant heaviness settling into his limbs. He tapped one finger lightly against the edge of the table, not restless, just… present.
“You always sit like that,” he said suddenly.
Lee Know stiffened. Not enough to be obvious. Enough to be real.
“Like what.”
“So you can see everything,” Han replied, gesturing vaguely with his knuckles. “Back to the room. No blind spots.”
“It is practical.”
“Mm,” Han said. “Does it ever turn off?”
Lee Know’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
Han nodded like that made perfect sense. “Yeah. Figures.”
They sat like that for a moment, the quiet filled by the soft hum of the tank and the distant clatter of dishes. Han didn’t seem bothered by the lack of response. If anything, he looked comfortable with it, gaze drifting, thoughts clearly looping somewhere pleasant.
“I don’t think I could do that,” he added lightly. “Always watching.”
“You are doing it now,” Lee Know said.
Han blinked, surprised, then laughed. “Oh. No, I’m just… noticing.”
“That is the same thing.”
“Is it?” Han tilted his head, considering. “I think watching has… edges. Like you’re waiting for something to go wrong.”
Lee Know didn’t answer.
“I’m just enjoying it,” Han continued. “Fish don’t expect anything from you.”
The server returned with water, setting the glasses down gently between them. The interruption snapped something back into place. Lee Know straightened, posture resetting, eyes sweeping the room once more as his fingers closed around his glass.
Han reached for his without looking, took a long drink, then sighed contentedly.
“Man,” he said. “This was a good idea.”
Lee Know took a slower sip.
“It was acceptable.”
Han grinned, eyes still on the tank. “High praise.”
The food hadn’t arrived yet, but something had shifted all the same.
Not a breakthrough.
Just a crack.
And Lee Know, watching Han lean forward in his seat like the world was something meant to be met head-on, realized that small talk might be more dangerous than any window or crowd he’d assessed so far.
This was not on the checklist.
And that bothered him more than he was willing to admit.
by Auggie Ryn
MinxSung
---
| Chapter 2 |
Han came out of the showers still warm, hair damp enough to curl at the ends, towel looped loose around his neck like an afterthought. The locker room felt different emptied out, quieter, the fluorescent lights too bright without bodies to soften them. He rubbed at the back of his head, already mentally cataloguing food options, still buzzing from the way the last combination had finally clicked.
He half expected Lee Know to be already waiting, just outside the locker room doors...
Instead, he found him at the mirror.
Lee Know stood square to it, jacket on, fingers precise as he finished adjusting his cuffs. Everything about him was contained, deliberate, like he was closing a door inside himself one careful latch at a time. The locker room door behind them was locked, the small laminated sign flipped to SECURITY, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it.
Han slowed without realizing it. He leaned a shoulder against the lockers, watching the reflection instead of the man himself. Lee Know didn't look up right away.He didn't need to. He already knew where Han was, how close, the angle of his weight, the sound of his breathing. That awareness was part of the job.
"Hyung," Han said lightly, voice echoing just a bit in the empty room. "You always take this long, or is today special?"
Lee Know finished buttoning one cuff before answering. "You rush everything," he said, flat. "Including your exits."
Han grinned at the mirror. "I'm efficient."
That got a quiet huff, barely a sound, but one that loosened something all the same. Lee Know finally lifted his eyes, meeting Han's gaze in the glass for a brief second before turning away to grab his bag.
Han took that as his cue.
He stepped forward, towel slipping from his shoulders as he reached out and caught Lee Know's wrist, fingers closing with easy familiarity. No hesitation. No question. Just the simple, cheerful assumption that they were done here.
"Come on," Han said, already turning towards the door. "I'm starving. And if we don't leave now, I'm going to start making terrible decisions."
Lee Know went still.
Not visibly. Not dramatically. Just enough that the movement stalled for half a breath, the grip on his bag tightening as his body recalibrated around the unexpected contact. Han didn't notice. He was already moving, tugging gently, already talking.
"There's this place down the street with the ridiculous number of trays," Han continued, "You know the one. I can absolutely destroy that place right now, and maybe hit my proteins in the process..."
Lee Know exhaled through his nose and let himself be pulled.
"Watch where you're going," he said, voice controlled, as he reached past Han to unlock the door. The click echoed loud in the empty space.
They stepped out together.
The hallway beyond the locker room was dimmer, cooler, the hum of the gym returning in layers as they walked. Han dropped his wrist but stayed close, matching Lee Know's stride without thinking about it. He rolled his shoulders, loose and satisfied, energy still sparking through him.
"That last drill," Han said, glancing sideways and up at Lee Know, "I'm telling you, it felt different. Like my body finally listened."
Lee Know's eyes flicked to him, quick and assessing, then forward again. "Don't get sloppy," he said. "Feeling good is when people get careless."
Han laughed, unbothered. "You say that like I wasn't careless before."
"You were predictable," Lee Know replied. "There's a difference."
They passed the front desk, the attendant giving them a brief nod, already used to the way they moved as a unit. Lee Know scanned out of habit, eyes tracking reflections in glass, the open space beyond the doors, the timing of the automatic lock, and of course, his charge.
Han didn't slow.
He pushed through the front door with his shoulder, sunlight spilling in, already talking over his own momentum.
"Okay, but hear me out," he said, stepping onto the pavement. "If it's a buffet, it's technically macro training, right? Carb loading. Protein recovery." He grinned.
Lee Know followed him out, the door swinging shut behind them with a soft thud.
He adjusted the strap of his bag, eyes sweeping the lot, posture settling back into its familiar guard.
"Get in the car," he said, keeping his watch.
Han's smile widened as he climbed into the driver's seat. Lee Know had not yet been able to convince his charge that it would be worth it, to give up driving himself.
Artists.
The drive to the restaurant was a study in contrasts. Han was a livewire in the driver's seat, drumming an erratic rhythm against the steering wheel, humming off key, babbling about everything and nothing. The post-workout high was still coursing through him, a potent cocktail of endorphins and pride.
Lee Know, in the passenger seat, was a statue carved from granite, other than his eyes, which kept a constant eye on the cars around them, the timing of the lights, the rearview and side mirrors, his gaze a constant, sweeping patrol. His hands rested neatly in his lap, still.
Silent.
Every bounce of Han's knee, every flick of his eye, every stray hum was a data point Lee Know logged and filed away, a stark reminder of the vibrant, chaotic every he was supposed to be containing, not contemplating.
Han parallel parked with a cocky flourish that made Lee Know's jaw tighten. "See? Efficient," Han said, killing the engine. He was already unbuckling, bouncing again with his feet pressed tight against the floor boards, to lift himself from his seat. He opened the door without waiting for Lee Know, then paused when the man let out a gruff cough, unbuckling his own belt. Lee Know got out from the car, coming around to open the door for Han, since this is a busy road.
The restaurant was a familiar choice, a popular spot with a bustling main floor and a quieter, more exclusive upper level. It was the kind of place that offered privacy for a price, and Lee Know had vetted it a dozen times. The hostess greeted Han with a professional but deferential smile.
"Good afternoon, sir. Table for two?"
"Actually," Lee Know stepped forward, his voice low and firm, "We'd like a private dining room."
The request hung in the air for just the briefest moment, the hostess already lifting the phone to have it prepared. Han, who had been glancing around the lively dining room, turned back to him, his smile faltering into a look of confusion. "A private room? Hyung, why? It's busy down here. It's more fun!"
"It's also less secure. Demonstrably so," Lee Know stated, his eyes already scanning the room's exits and sightlines, his bodyguard instincts overriding everything else.
He wasn't asking.
He was stating procedure. But Han, still riding the high of his success at the gym, wasn't in a procedural mood. He let out a soft, disbelieving laugh.
"Secure? We're getting Korean BBQ, not planning a heist or trip to a government building."
He turned back to the hostess, his charm kicking back into place. "Just a regular table is great. Actually, can we get one near the window? I like watching the street."
The hostess nodded, fingers already hovering over the tablet. "Right this way, sirs."
Han smiled, easy and bright, already turning back toward the dining room like the decision was settled.
Lee Know didn't move.
His gaze swept the floor again, slower this time. The glass frontage along the windows. The steady churn of people outside, phones out, reflections bleeding into reflections. The way the afternoon light cut across the room at a low angle, turning faces into silhouettes if you sat wrong.
Not ideal. Not even close.
Han was still talking, oblivious. "I like watching the street. Makes waiting for the food feel shorter."
Lee Know inhaled once through his nose.
"Actually," he said, his voice calm, unhurried, the way it always was when he was about to override something, "the aquarium section would be better."
Han paused mid-step and turned back, brows knitting in mild surprise. "The fish?"
"Yes."
The hostess glanced between them, already adjusting the reservation on her screen without question.
Han tilted his head, processing. "I mean, sure, fish are cool, but the window's right there."
Lee Know stepped closer, not crowding, just enough to place himself squarely at Han's side. His eyes flicked briefly to the large, curved glass tank along the interior wall, water glowing blue-green, schools of fish moving in slow, predictable patterns.
"Less foot traffic," he said evenly. "Quieter. Better lighting."
"For the fish?" Han asked, half teasing.
"For you."
That earned a blink.
Han opened his mouth, then closed it again, glancing toward the aquarium. The soft light. The way people naturally drifted around it instead of clustering. The gentle hush it seemed to create in its orbit.
"Oh," he said, something like interest slipping into his voice. "Okay, yeah, that does look kinda nice."
Lee Know didn't relax. Not internally. The checklist kept ticking.
The hostess smiled. "Aquarium seating is available. Follow me, please."
They moved together through the dining room, Lee Know subtly positioning himself between Han and the flow of other people without ever touching him.
Han didn't notice.
Or maybe he did, in the same way he noticed rhythm without counting beats, despite not being able to carry a tune in a bucket.
Painters.
They stopped in front of the massive tank. Light rippled across the table, reflections dancing lazily over polished wood and glass. The ambient noise dropped a notch, softened by water and distance.
Han leaned forward immediately, hand braced on the table, eyes tracking a slow moving ray. "Oh, wow. This is actually awesome."
Lee Know took the seat with his back to the room, sightlines clear, reflections controlled, exits mapped in seconds. He set Han's bag down at his feet, posture settling into something familiar and precise.
"See?" Han said, grinning at him. "Good call, no private room."
Lee Know gave a brief nod.
It was, and the fact that it felt good for him too, was none of Han's business.
Han forgot about the menu almost immediately.
He leaned closer to the glass, forearms resting on the edge of the table, chin tipped up as a school of silver fish curved past in a slow, synchronized wave. The light from the tank washed over his face, blue and green and shifting, catching in the damp ends of his hair, softening the sharper lines of him into something almost unreal.
"Oh," he murmured, barely audible over the hum of water. "That one's huge."
Lee Know followed the direction of his gaze automatically, cataloguing the tank out of habit. Depth. Lighting. No blind spots behind the glass. No movement that wasn't predictable.
Safe.
His eyes slid back to Han before he could stop himself.
Han watched the fish with the same intensity he brought to everything else, when he forgot the rest of the world existed for a moment. His mouth hung slightly open, the tip of his tongue pressing against his teeth as he tracked motion, breath slow and even now that the post-workout buzz had settled. One hand lifted unconsciously, fingers tracing the path of a ray as it passed, like he might feel it through the glass if he tried hard enough.
Lee Know stilled.
This was NOT part of the checklist.
He was supposed to be scanning the room. Counting heads. Tracking reflections. Watching hands and exits and the subtle shifts in posture that preceded trouble.
Instead, he found himself watching the way Han leaned into wonder without reservation.
The way his shoulders dropped when he relaxed. The way his weight shifted forward, balanced on the balls of his feet even sitting down, as he did in the car, like he was always ready to move. The faint crease between his brows when a fish disappeared behind coral and didn't immediately reappear.
Adorable.
Lee Know's jaw tightened.
Across the table, Han laughed softly to himself as the ray looped back into view. "Okay, nevermind, this was absolutely the right call," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "You're a genius."
Lee Know didn't answer right away.
Once again, he found he couldn't, his breath caught in his throat.
Han turned fully this time, smile easy, eyes bright, "Hyung?"
Lee Know's expression shutters closed as he blinks once, the room snapping back into place around him, though... not fast enough to Han to completely miss it. Lee Know clears his throat, "Eat your food," he said, gruffly, "When it gets here."
Han laughed again, unbothered, already turning back to the tank. "Bossy."
Lee Know watched him do it.
Watched the line of his neck as he tilted his head. Watched the faint sheen of moisture in his hair, catching the aquarium light like something precious. Watched the way Han existed so fully in the moment that it never occurred to him that he was being observed.
Lee Know could never.
And that, he realized distantly, was the real danger.
Not the windows. Not the crowd.
Han's complete, unguarded trust.
The server arrived with water, the clink of glasses pulling Lee Know back just enough for him to straighten, posture resetting, eyes sweeping the room once more.
Across from him, Han reached for his glass without looking, still watching the fish, smiling to himself like the world was exactly as it should be.
Lee Know wrapped his fingers around his own water and took a slow drink.
This was going to be a problem.
Han didn’t notice the menu until Lee Know slid it closer to him.
“You need to order,” Lee Know said.
Han blinked, as if surfacing from underwater. He looked down at the laminated pages like they’d materialized without warning.
“Oh,” he said. “Right. Food.”
Lee Know didn’t react. He was already scanning the room again, posture unchanged, attention split cleanly between Han, the server’s approach, and the reflections in the glass behind them.
Han picked up the menu with both hands and immediately leaned back, eyes skimming without really reading.
“Wow,” he murmured. “There’s… a lot happening here.”
“That is generally how menus work,” Lee Know replied.
Han snorted, unoffended. “You say that like it’s not a personal attack.”
The server appeared beside the table, polite and patient, pad in hand. Han looked up with an easy smile.
“Sorry,” he said cheerfully. “I got distracted by the fish.”
“That happens,” the server replied, glancing briefly toward the tank. “Take your time.”
Lee Know did not miss the way her attention lingered half a second longer than necessary.
“He’ll have the set menu,” Lee Know said calmly. “Extra protein. No substitutions.”
Han turned to stare at him. “Wow. Okay. Bossy.”
Lee Know didn’t look at him. “You burn through calories irresponsibly.”
“I burn through calories artistically,” Han corrected, flipping the menu shut. “But yeah, fine. That works.”
“And for you, sir?” the server asked.
Lee Know didn’t hesitate. “The same.”
Han’s eyebrows lifted. “You don’t even look?”
“I already know what’s on it.”
“That’s kind of sad,” Han said, then brightened. “Efficient, though.”
Lee Know gave the server a brief nod. “Water is fine.”
“Coming right up,” she said, already backing away.
As soon as she was gone, Han leaned forward again, elbows on the table, chin tipped toward the glass.
“Okay,” he said thoughtfully. “I get why you picked this spot.”
Lee Know’s gaze flicked to him. “Because it is controlled.”
“Because it’s calming,” Han said. “And nobody stares at us when there’s fish.”
Lee Know did not respond.
Han watched a ray drift past, slow and deliberate. The post-workout buzz had faded into something quieter now, a pleasant heaviness settling into his limbs. He tapped one finger lightly against the edge of the table, not restless, just… present.
“You always sit like that,” he said suddenly.
Lee Know stiffened. Not enough to be obvious. Enough to be real.
“Like what.”
“So you can see everything,” Han replied, gesturing vaguely with his knuckles. “Back to the room. No blind spots.”
“It is practical.”
“Mm,” Han said. “Does it ever turn off?”
Lee Know’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
Han nodded like that made perfect sense. “Yeah. Figures.”
They sat like that for a moment, the quiet filled by the soft hum of the tank and the distant clatter of dishes. Han didn’t seem bothered by the lack of response. If anything, he looked comfortable with it, gaze drifting, thoughts clearly looping somewhere pleasant.
“I don’t think I could do that,” he added lightly. “Always watching.”
“You are doing it now,” Lee Know said.
Han blinked, surprised, then laughed. “Oh. No, I’m just… noticing.”
“That is the same thing.”
“Is it?” Han tilted his head, considering. “I think watching has… edges. Like you’re waiting for something to go wrong.”
Lee Know didn’t answer.
“I’m just enjoying it,” Han continued. “Fish don’t expect anything from you.”
The server returned with water, setting the glasses down gently between them. The interruption snapped something back into place. Lee Know straightened, posture resetting, eyes sweeping the room once more as his fingers closed around his glass.
Han reached for his without looking, took a long drink, then sighed contentedly.
“Man,” he said. “This was a good idea.”
Lee Know took a slower sip.
“It was acceptable.”
Han grinned, eyes still on the tank. “High praise.”
The food hadn’t arrived yet, but something had shifted all the same.
Not a breakthrough.
Just a crack.
And Lee Know, watching Han lean forward in his seat like the world was something meant to be met head-on, realized that small talk might be more dangerous than any window or crowd he’d assessed so far.
This was not on the checklist.
And that bothered him more than he was willing to admit.
