Ryul sat with one leg drawn up, his palms propping up his chin as he silently stared at Jihoon.
The soft lamplight swept the shadows across the younger man's face–his lashes resting delicately against flushed cheeks and fingers limp around the mug.
Ryul let out a weary sigh as he pushed himself up and hopped off the sofa. Closing in on the sleeping figure, he gently pried the empty mug loose from Jihoon's pale fingers, careful not to disturb him more than necessary.
"Jihoon-ah," he called out, leaning down toward the sleeping figure and giving a gentle shake to his shoulder. "Why don't you sleep properly in bed?"
The young man stirred at the motion, wincing as he half-liddedly opened his eyes–the world unfocused and disorienting.
"Do you want me to take you to your bed?" Ryul asked again in a low, almost coaxing manner.
There was no answer–at least, not a verbal one.
