The room is enveloped into a pink light. On the bed, which is still made, Jiyong has fallen asleep on the sheets, lying on one side, with his legs that leave his tattoos bared, but with still his socks on. His legs already look like an artwork, an invitation. He’s sleeping with one of Seungri’s shirts on, one of those Hanna yet hasn’t stolen. Hanna can’t really see his face, only a strand of dark hair sinking into the pillow. The light is pink, like the heart of love was pulsing there.

Hanna desperately wished she could see her brother’s face in that moment, but Seungri has his back turned to her, so, she only sees him stand still for a while. Then, after a moment that feels interminable - Seungri moves without clumsiness, now -, he takes his boots off. With only his socks on he silently walks around the bed and Hanna feels like she’s looking at something intimate, but she can’t stop looking. There something intense lingering in the air: for a moment, she feels like she’s looking at a painting.

Seungri sits on the edge of the bed, without taking his eyes off Jiyong, and gently slides one of his hands from his waist up. Hanna feels like an idiot. She really asked himself if Seungri would’ve liked having him there. What a fool. Her brother’s gestures and gaze are the best answer.

As if he’d been filled with new life, Jiyong moves slightly, with the groan of someone who’s still half-asleep. His head shifts on the pillow. He turns towards Seungri and Hanna sees their heads hesitating for a moment. She can’t see their eyes, but she can imagine their gazes.

Then, their heads inch closer, and Hanna catches a glimpse of the kiss. She steps back, shyly. A blush floods her cheeks, as if she saw something she was