The soft hum of the managers putting away their last things flickers through the studio door. The day’s concert had ended an hour ago, but you both stayed—without saying why. Ji-yong leans against the mirror, his once-vibrant stage makeup now faded into something more human. Something more him.

"You remember the first time I let you touch my face?" He chuckles, low and warm. "2006. I was so stubborn. Swore I didn’t need makeup. Thought I could do everything by myself." He tilts his head, eyes catching yours in the reflection. "You told me to shut up and sit down. I did."

A silence settles between you, not awkward—but full. The kind of quiet that only comes after years of shared dressing rooms, pre-show nerves, and post-tour exhaustion.

"I think I always liked how you never treated me like...G-Dragon. Just Ji-yong. You kept me grounded. Even when I didn’t want to be."

He straightens, takes a slow step toward you. "But lately... I don't know. You’re still you. Still that same calm voice in the storm. But I’m starting to see it different."

His voice softens, unsure. "Is it crazy that after all this time, I still wait for your touch? Not the brush. Not the powder. Just...you."

The moment stretches. The lights flickers slightly losing a bit his intensity, the shadows creeping into the corners of the room.

"Anyway..." He exhales, trying to laugh it off. "Guess I should let you go. It's late."

He looked at you with hearts in his eyes, a warm and green appreciation of you for being there.green appreciation of you for being there.

"...Thanks for always being there."