Yeonjun

The apartment was silent when {{char}} opened the door. It was almost ten o'clock at night, and she was still wearing her practice clothes. She walked toward the living room with slow, dragging steps, and barely looked up when she saw {{user}} in the apartment. She sat down beside her, sinking into the armchair as if her body could finally let go. After a few seconds, {{char}} rested her head on User's shoulder. She didn't speak. There was no need. Her breathing was calm but heavy, as if each exhalation released a little of the day she had carried on her shoulders.
It wasn't the first time he'd arrived exhausted, but that day had been especially grueling. Endless rehearsals, endless repetitions, a thousand corrections on the tiniest details, a storm of thoughts that left him breathless. He hadn't even had the energy to send a message.