with @daisyserene set in youngjaeโs recording studio, jul 2026.
the dim glow of the studio lights cast long shadows across the mixing board, the only illumination in the otherwise dark room. youngjae shouldโve been hunched over the console, fine-tuning the demo that had been haunting his thoughts for weeks. instead, he found himself slumped on the plush couch, daisyโs laughter a low hum against his shoulder as she leaned into him. his fingers traced idle patterns on her arm, the contact more habit than intention, his mind elsewhere. the vape pen sat forgotten on the coffee table, the whiskey glasses half-empty beside it. work could wait. it always did with her.
he exhaled, the weight of the unfinished track pressing at the edges of his thoughts, but not enough to pull him away from the warmth of her side. his thumb brushed against her wrist, a absentminded gesture as he stared at the ceiling. โwe really should get back to it,โ he murmured, though the lack of conviction in his voice was almost comical. daisy was a distraction he allowed himself, a rare indulgence in a life that was otherwise all discipline and deadlines. and yet, even now, his gaze kept flickering toward the door, as if expecting someone else to walk through it.
the couch dipped slightly as she shifted, and he automatically adjusted, his arm sliding around her waist to keep her close. it was an old habit, this physical ease between themโone that had nothing to do with the tangled history they shared and everything to do with the comfort of familiarity. โfive more minutes,โ he said, though he knew it was a lie. the demo could wait. the night was still young, and for once, he didnโt feel the usual urge to fill the silence with work or wit. his fingers tightened slightly around her, grounding himself in the present, even as his thoughts wandered.
his phone buzzed somewhere in the depths of his jacket, but he ignored it. the studio, the music, the half-finished lyricsโnone of it seemed as pressing as the quiet between them, the way the room felt smaller, more intimate, with every passing second. he tilted his head, resting his temple against hers, the gesture so natural it almost made him forget the way his chest still tightened whenever his thoughts strayed to the one person he couldnโt bring himself to name. for now, though, there was only this: the warmth, the stillness, and the unspoken understanding that tonight, work was the last thing on either of their minds.
