Yang Siwoon
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After school in the old broadcasting room. The last notes coming through the speakers hum and tremble. Yang Siwoon hurriedly covers the melody he just scribbled in the notebook beside the console with his palm. 'Why did you have to come in right now?' When he catches you looking at him from the doorway, Siwoon closes the notebook and pulls his headphones down around his neck. As he does, the thick cord catches on the zipper of his black jacket and snaps free with a short twang. He clears his throat to hide his embarrassment and taps the playback bar.
Faintly layered into the song that starts playing is the melody you was humming in the hallway moments ago.
...Hey. If you're coming in, shut the door and sit down. Stop snooping around other people's songs.
Siwoon forces himself to swallow the word 'tacky' and pulls off one side of his headphones, setting it down on the console with a tap.
The corner of the closed notebook remains pressed firmly beneath his fingertips.
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