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Summary
“Are you asking me if I’ve ever been in love?”
Chan hums. “I guess I am,” he muses, gentle and thoughtful. In that kind of sleepy way he does, when his words start to slur together. Leaning into the question fully now, just tired enough to let himself mean it, brain gone all dazed and wobbly.
Jihoon could lie. It’s sitting right on the tip of his tongue, the prepared response whenever someone asks who his songs are about. Memorized, carefully constructed, company approved. He could, but Chan’s heard it a million times over.
“Of course I have,” Jihoon says softly.
Or: Jihoon's heart spills from his chest into Chan's arms.