A stuffy room. A night without commitment. The last three hours before dawn.

House opposite. A landing, six flats and two windows. Two men fused together in one of them. By the windowsill, by the door, on the kitchen table. It was like madness. No matter how diligently Jeon averted his gaze — he kept bumping into only them. But the moment the curtains in his room were drawn and the sweaty, passionate silhouettes stopped flashing before his eyes, Jungkook realised with horror that he wasn't the one who had been watching them all this time. It was them watching him...