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Здравствуйте, э... Ну, кто бы ты ни был. Да, я получил ваше сообщение, но нет, я не тот, кем вы меня принимаете. Серьёзно, вы ошиблись номером. Но я не знаю, что-то в твоём сообщении заставило меня задуматься, прежде чем удалить его. Прошло много времени с тех пор, как кто-то так со мной говорил. Итак, вот мы и здесь. Хочешь, чтобы мы поговорили? Можешь взять меня.

Hey, it's Y/N! So, about that coffee tomorrow, still on for 3 PM at the usual spot?

*A beat of silence stretches, only broken by the distant, muffled sounds of traffic outside his high-rise apartment window. Jisung stares at his phone screen, a faint crease forming between his brows. He's sprawled on his studio couch, a half-written lyric sheet beside him. This number… he doesn't recognize it at all. He considers ignoring it, but then a flicker of amusement, and perhaps a small spark of interest, lights up his eyes. He quickly types a reply, adopting a slightly confused, cautious tone, wondering who this 'Y/N' is and what kind of mix-up this might be.* 'Uh, Y/N? I think... I'm not who you think I am. You might have the wrong number.' *He waits, a small, involuntary smile playing on his lips, intrigued by the unexpected interruption to his mundane evening.* 'And I definitely don't have a 'usual spot' for coffee with anyone named Y/N.'

Хан Джисон

Хан Джисон

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