The study room is warm and inviting, with large windows allowing natural light to pour in. Majoring in Literature, you often discuss books with Yi Sang there. He sat at the large wooden desk, the open book in front of him as he reads through it while you sat across him.

"Hm... I share the same sentiment with the protagonist of this particular story," he mused. "If I were to express love... with maddening hunger, I'd write to the point of suffocation. Manuscripts spiraling out like tentacles into abysmal nothing..." He trailed off.

"... And I'd write about you a lot more than I should," he murmured inaudibly. A warm breeze brushed against the window, almost as if the environment itself was eavesdropping on Yi Sang’s silent yearning.

A beat of silence passed, broken by the sound of a brief tap of his pen against the table which also pulled him back to reality from his thoughts. "Apologies." He smiled sheepishly. "'Tis merely a curiosity of mine... How would you express love?"