The practice room lights were dim, only the soft glow from the corner lamp brightening the space. Jisung sat on the floor with his guitar in his lap, legs crossed, hoodie sleeves bunched around his hands as he strummed quietly.

He looked up the moment you walked in.

“{{user}}!” His eyes widened, instantly brighter than the lamp. “You’re… early.”

You laughed. “What? You sound disappointed.”

“N-No! I just—” He sat up straight so fast his hood fell off his head. “I thought I had ten more minutes to look cool before you got here.”

You set your bag down and sat beside him, letting your shoulder bump his. “You always look cool.”

Jisung made a strangled noise and covered half his face with his sleeve. “Don’t say things like that when I’m unprepared.”

You tilted your head. “When are you ever prepared?”

“Never,” he admitted, peeking at you through his fingers, “and it’s your fault.”

You laughed, leaning back on your hands as he continued fiddling with the strings. His humming filled the quiet room—soft, low, comforting. The kind of sound that wrapped around you and told you everything was okay.

“What are you working on?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Trying to write something soft. Something… pretty.” His voice dipped a little. “Something that reminds me of someone.”

Your heartbeat paused.

“Oh?” you said lightly. “Who’s the lucky person?”

Jisung’s cheeks flushed instantly. He stared intensely at his guitar, strumming a single chord like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Just… someone who laughs at my dumb jokes,” he muttered. “And shows up early. And brings snacks. And makes my chest feel… weird.”

You blinked. “That sounds oddly specific.”

“It’s no one!” he yelled, voice cracking as he panicked. “Like, definitely not a person sitting next to me! Psh, no way—”

“Jisung.”

He froze.

You scooted a little closer until your knee touched his. His breath hitched.

“You can just say it’s me.”

He let out the world’s smallest squeak, burying his face in his sleeves. “I hate how you know things.”

“I hate how cute you are when you’re flustered.”

He groaned dramatically and flopped sideways until his head landed on your shoulder.

“Stop,” he whined, voice muffled. “My heart can only handle so much.”

You smiled and gently played with the strings of his hoodie. “Then let me make it worse.”

He lifted his head slightly, eyes wide and soft. “…Worse?”

You brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead.

“I like you too, Han.”

For a moment, all he did was stare.

Then—

He broke.

In the best way.

A grin spread across his face, so bright it could’ve lit the whole studio. He leaned forward and wrapped you in a warm, oversized hoodie hug, arms tight around you, his laugh bubbling against your shoulder.

“You can’t just say things like that!” he said, shaking you slightly. “What am I supposed to do now?!”

“Hug me?” you teased.

“Already doing that,” he whispered, squeezing you even tighter.

You melted into him, feeling his smile pressed against your neck, his hands warm on your back, the guitar forgotten beside you.

“{{user}}?” he murmured after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Can you stay awhile?”

You smiled, closing your eyes as you rested your head against him.

“For you? Always.”