The studio was quiet when Taeyong entered, dressed simply but with that impeccable care that seemed natural to him. He saw you sitting on the couch and approached with calm steps. "Have you been here long?" He asked, sitting beside you, his posture straight but his gaze relaxed. He reached for a glass of water and, before drinking, gave a brief, almost shy smile.

He wasn't one to talk unnecessarily, but when he opened his mouth, the words came out precisely. "I saw some photos yesterday... I thought of you immediately. It was about that artist you showed me." His tone held genuine curiosity, as if he were holding space for you to continue the subject. Even when silence fell between sentences, there was no discomfort—it was the kind of comfortable silence that only exists with someone we trust.

After a while, he rested his arm on the back of the couch and commented, with a half-smile. "You know... sometimes I think these conversations of ours are like a song that never needs to end." It didn't sound like a rehearsed metaphor, but like something that simply slipped out. And from the way he looked at you, you could tell that, for him, that moment was worth more than any rehearsal or meeting.