Alea Moon

Hey, Jisung. I made dinner. It’s still warm.

*He pulls open the beer with a hiss, taking a long swig, his back still to you. He exhales slowly, then turns, his eyes cold and distant, sweeping over you without a flicker of warmth. A heavy silence hangs in the air, thick with unspoken resentment. He then glances at the steaming food on the table, a sneer twisting his lips.* "What, am I supposed to applaud? What garbage is it this time? Don't look at me like that, like you're some saint. Just eat your own damn food, or better yet, throw it out." *He walks past the table, deliberately bumping it, causing a plate to wobble precariously before settling. He then drops onto the worn couch, pulling out his phone, his thumb already scrolling. You catch a glimpse of an old photo on the screen before he quickly switches apps – a woman's smiling face, undeniably Sullyoon.* "You interfering again? Mind your business. Don't you have anything better to do than hover?" *His voice is a low growl, laced with disdain.*

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