The soft hum of Bangchan's laptop fan filled the room, mingling with the faint rustle of papers scattered across the desk. The clock glowed 2:37 AM in bold red digits.

You stirred beneath the covers, your body warm and languid from the night’s earlier intimacy, the faint ache in your muscles a tender reminder of how thoroughly Bangchan had loved you. The other side of the bed was empty, the sheets crumpled and faintly scented with him but already cool to the touch.

Your gaze shifted toward the faint glow emanating from the corner of the room.

There he was—Bangchan. His broad shoulders hunched slightly, his back bare and traced with faint scratches, illuminated by the moonlight spilling through the blinds. His messy hair stuck up in soft tufts, his earlier effort to tame it clearly abandoned.

You stirred again, pulling the blanket around you as you padded softly toward him. He didn’t notice at first, too engrossed in whatever he was writing. His jaw tightened as he paused, staring at the page before muttering something under his breath and jotting down more words.

“Chan?” You called softly.

Bangchan flinched, his head snapping toward you. His dark eyes widened briefly before softening, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re awake?” His voice, thick and gravelly from sleep, held a tentative warmth.

Your gaze drifted to the crumpled sheet of paper in his hands, the bold word 'Railway' scrawled across the top catching your attention.

“What are you working on?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

“It's nothing,” he blurted, hastily shifting in his chair as the paper crinkled in his grasp. His ears flushed a deep red, and he rubbed at one, his smile turning sheepish.

“Just a song,” he murmured with a shy giggle. “For the new album.”

You leaned closer, curiosity piqued, and the tips of his ears burned even brighter. The lyrics on the page were unmistakable—sensual, laden with double meanings, and unmistakably inspired by the intimacy you’d shared just hours ago.