Chapter Text
Mornings in Yunho's apartment always began the same way. Silence, soft light filtering through the open curtains, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee, which had become his unspoken ritual. He cherished this moment—a brief moment of the day when the world didn't yet expect anything from him. His apartment was simple, yet full of character. Bright walls, plenty of natural light, and photographs hung almost everywhere—black-and-white portraits, fragments of hands, glances captured in half a second. Each photo had its own story, even if only he knew it. The camera sat on the living room table, as if always at the ready, never fully put aside. Yunho stretched lazily, adjusted his loose sweater, and reached for a cup of coffee. In moments like these, he thought about how much he loved his job—not just photography itself, but the feeling of capturing something real. An emotion. A moment that couldn't be replicated. Working at &STYLE was a dream come true. The studio was bustling with life, creativity, and constant movement, yet at the same time, it had a familiar, almost homey feel. It was there he spent most of his days, immersed in a world of lights, lenses, and people who, like him, lived and breathed art. When he arrived at the studio, he was greeted, as usual, by the smell of coffee and the sound of conversation. Hongjoong stood at one of the tables, hunched over sketches of his new collection, pencil in hand, concentration etched on his face. "You look like you haven't slept," Yunho said, standing next to him and glancing at the designs. Hongjoong lifted his head and smiled wryly. "And you look like you forgot breakfast again." Yunho chuckled softly. Their conversations always began similarly—effortlessly, without the need for pretense. They had known each other for years and understood each other without words. Hongjoong was not only a fashion designer but also one of the most important people in Yunho's life. A friend, a support system, someone who could always say exactly what Yunho needed to hear. “A quiet day today?” Yunho asked, putting down his camera bag. “So far, yes. But knowing this place, the quiet never lasts long,” Hongjoong replied, setting aside his sketches and stretching slightly. “There’s always something going on.” Yunho nodded with a slight smile. He liked the constant movement, the change, the dynamic that made each day at &STYLE feel a little different. He focused on his work—on the shots, the light, the emotions captured in a split second. On what he did best and what gave him a sense of purpose. The sessions flew by. Yunho moved confidently around the studio, giving calm instructions, adjusting the lighting, capturing moments others might miss. The camera was an extension of his thoughts—a tool that allowed him to speak more than words. Sometimes he found himself observing people longer than the work required. He was interested in small gestures, facial expressions, the way someone smiled or avoided eye contact.That's why his photos had an intimate quality—as if he were peering beneath the surface. At the end of the day, he returned to his apartment, exhausted, but with that pleasant feeling of accomplishment. He took off his shoes, placed his camera on the shelf, and collapsed onto the couch. Silence enveloped him again, and his thoughts began to slow. He didn't yet know that this peaceful rhythm—work, his friendship with Hongjoong, his lonely evenings—would soon be disrupted. That someone would appear who would make gestures cease to be gestures, and silence take on new meaning. But for now, Yunho simply closed his eyes, breathing deeply. His life was orderly. Safe. And precisely because of that, he wasn't ready for what was to come.