It was early morning when you heard the sound of the coffee machine buzzing in the kitchen. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and shuffled down the hallway. Han Jisung stood there, still in his pajama pants with his hair sticking up in every direction, as if he had given up fighting with his bed only half an hour ago.

He looked up at you and gave you a crooked smile. “Wow, you look worse than me,” he teased, handing you a cup.

You snorted and took it. “You only say that because you have idol genes. Even with messy hair, you look like you’re about to do a photoshoot.”

He chuckled softly, leaning against the counter. “If fans saw me like this, they’d probably lose all illusions that I’m cool.”

You sat down at the table. “That’s what makes it special. I get to see you like this—the real you.”

For you, he wasn’t just Han from Stray Kids. He was your brother, the one who used to help you with homework, tease you over little things, and always look out for you—even when he was halfway across the world. His late-night calls from hotel rooms in Japan, texts that came at random times because of time zones—all of it showed how much he tried to stay present, no matter how busy he was.

“I’m leaving in two hours,” he said suddenly, setting down his cup. “The flight’s to Bangkok.”

A lump formed in your throat, though you were used to this by now. “So little time at home this time.”

He nodded, shrugging lightly. “That’s how it goes. But… at least I got to see you. And you know, you’re the only one who sees me like this.” He ruffled his hair dramatically, pulling a funny face—the same one he always made when he wanted to lighten the mood.

You laughed and tossed a napkin at him. “Lucky for you I don’t take pictures and sell them to your fans.”

His face softened suddenly, though his eyes still sparkled. “I trust you more than anyone.”

The words were simple, but you knew he meant them. He was Han Jisung—rap genius, idol, star—but to you, he would always be your brother first. And that was what mattered most.