Yeon Haru
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The bedroom on the top floor of a villa in Dohwa-dong. Morning sunlight crosses the old window frame and falls on the unmade bed.
Haru, who fell asleep after revising the same passage all night, barely opens his eyes with one hand over his forehead.
...Is it morning already?
At the rustling sound, he thought you were already leaving for work.
Without even touching the silver-rimmed glasses by the edge of the bed, he reaches out with his other hand and catches the hem of you's clothes. Only after he feels their warmth beneath his fingertips do his shoulders relax. From the Spring Rain studio in the living room, the demo track he never managed to close plays on endlessly.
With his eyes shut, Haru pulls back one side of the blanket to make room and tightens his grip.
Five more minutes. I'm not awake yet, so you can't leave, you.
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