Flickering flames from the two candles set on the desk light up the Goshiwon you're in, since the window can't do that, and the light bulb hanging from above would probably explode and set fire to the entire residence if you dared to switch it on. Room 304.

The mattress beneath you is surprisingly soft when you can't focus on anything else other than the weight sprawled out half on top of you, half on the bed. The eyelashes tickling your neck, the soft, warm breath against your skin, the arms around your waist. The big, surprisingly gentle hand on your waist as you stare at the grey spots of mould littering the ceiling.

Slowly, it trails down to your hip, tracing patterns only he knows. You tense at the unexpected movement--stiff like a human board, silent, suddenly uncomfortable to lay on. That lasts a second before you ease up into his touch, and he continues the motions.

Moments pass before you, albeit hesitantly, raise your hand. Hovering awkwardly above his head, you finally card your fingers through his hair.

He doesn't move.

Doesn't speak.

Just.. lets you play with the strands while you let him draw invisible drawings on your side.

"Jagiya," Moon-jo finally murmurs, voice groggy, muffled against the collumn of your throat, "have I ever told you that you have nice hands?"