The two of them sat by the window in a small wonton noodle shop near their old university. The place hadn't changed much over the years—still simple, still warm with its yellow lighting. The clatter of chopsticks against pots and the hiss of the stove created a cozy background hum. Since the moment they walked in, Sea hadn't tried to hide his childlike excitement.

Across from him, Jimmy—now down to just a plain white T-shirt—looked a few years younger, like someone closer to Sea's world. The usual sternness was gone from his face, replaced by something softer, more casual.

Two bowls of char siu wonton noodles were served.

Jimmy mixed his with precise movements, his voice calm and steady.
"You liked this place since college?"

Sea nodded, beaming. "Yeah. I used to come here alone a lot. It's cheap and tasty. After long night classes, a hot bowl of this would always hit the spot."

Jimmy paused for a moment, then exhaled slowly, like recalling something far away.
"It's been a while since I ate here."

Sea smiled, then asked carefully, "Did you come here a lot when you were in school too?"

Jimmy leaned back in his seat with a nod.
"After graduation, I didn't go straight into a company. I freelanced for almost a year—translating books, writing, and editing manuscripts. No office, no coworkers. Just a laptop, coffee, and deadlines. Then someone I knew helped me get an internship in Japan. I stayed there two years. When Kumaumi opened a branch here, they asked me to come back."

Sea didn't know why his heart clenched a little at those words. It wasn't a particularly dramatic story, but he could feel the weight behind it—how Jimmy must've gone through that entire stretch on his own. He used to think Jimmy was the kind of person who walked straight from a university lecture hall into an editor-in-chief's office, unfazed, unshaken. But the truth...

"Were you... ever sad?" Sea asked softly.

Jimmy stared out the window. His eyes weren't focused, as if they were looking at something far beyond the city street outside.

"Not exactly sad. Just... There were days I wondered, if I had made a different choice back then, where would I be now?"

Sea was surprised.
"Then... why did you choose teen novel?"

Jimmy chuckled lightly.
"Because during my freelance days, I read a lot of it—and realised this genre is easy to consume, but hard to write. People have prejudice toward it. They think it's all fluff, easy to produce and not sophisticated. They assume the audience is undemanding. But the truth is, every line, every emotion—if it's not real emotion, readers notice immediately."

Sea nodded slowly, eyes instinctively drawn to Jimmy—an old habit, impossible to shake.

"Eat. Don't just stare at me. I'm not buying you another shirt if you spill noodles on it," Jimmy said without looking up, but a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I'm just... surprised," Sea murmured. "I never thought I'd get to eat here again, especially alone with you."

Jimmy replied like it was the most ordinary thing in the world:
"Because you like wonton noodles."

But that simple line made Sea's heart skip.

After dinner, Jimmy drove Sea all the way home. Just before Sea got out of the car, Jimmy reminded him:

"Sleep early. The prep work for next week's meeting isn't urgent."

Sea smiled and nodded. "Got it. You rest early too, okay?"

Jimmy sighed. "Probably not happening. I got caught up in Day's meeting today and haven't touched the backlog. The call this afternoon was Tek reminding me I still need to review his manuscript for the mock-up. Looks like I'll be pulling another late one."

Sea felt something flutter in his chest. Maybe Jimmy was beginning to open up to him. He sounded... just a little bit like he was complaining. Maybe even—spoiled?

Sea hesitated, then said quietly:

"Then... can I stay up with you?"

That night, two hours after saying goodnight, Sea messaged Jimmy on LINE.

21:08
"Are you working right now?"

Ten minutes later, Jimmy replied with a photo of his cluttered desk—sticky notes everywhere, his laptop opened mid-edit. A half-empty coffee sat in the corner.

Sea sent back his own picture: his desk lit by the soft glow of his screen, a warm mug of milk, and a bunny-themed snack box.

"I don't like coffee. But I've got banana milk."

Jimmy replied with a smirking emoji—a style of response Sea had never seen from him before.

12:12 AM
Sea sent the first draft of his notes for the upcoming meeting, including some notes.
"Can you help me check this part?"

Jimmy responded with a voice message instead of texting Sea:
"Looks fine. Just expand the summaries for each title we'll be discussing. Highlight the key points."

1:30 AM
Sea sent a croissant emoji, and a message:

"Don't skip your late-night snack. Don't upset your stomach again."

Jimmy didn't reply. Just read it.

3:45 AM

After writing his final comment on Tek's manuscript, Jimmy let out a long yawn. He reached for his phone and found a flood of new LINE messages from Sea:

"Have you eaten anything yet?"

"I finished the notes for the meeting. Sent them to your email."

"Here's my midnight snack. What about you?" (Attached: a peach-flavored yogurt)

"I think we could add some of these lines to Day's new manuscript. I've already typed them out and emailed you."

"P'Jimmy..."

"P'Jimmy..."

Jimmy stared at the string of messages, and something warm trickled through his chest.

This kid must've eaten lion's heart tonight.

Usually Sea only sent one or two lines, then stopped. But tonight... a dozen.

He wasn't trying to be annoying—he just wanted Jimmy to know: I'm still awake. I'm still here with you.

Jimmy smiled faintly. Peach yogurt, huh? He remembered seeing a whole stash of that same flavor packed neatly in the office fridge. So the kid really did like it.

Without thinking, Jimmy typed back:

"Sleep well, Nong Sea."

He was about to turn off his screen when another message came through—

A stream of little puppy emojis rolling and spinning, followed by:

"P'Jimmy, goodnight."

Jimmy laughed out loud. A rare sound.

Tonight, this kid had grown bold.

And... somehow, he didn't mind it at all.