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◤━━━━━━━━━━━◥ Preview of my Stray Kids fanfiction "Ice Cream". Coming soon. ◣━━━━━━━━━━━◢
HOLDING ON TO THE TAKE-OUT BAG IN ONE HAND AND THE CARDBOARD TRAY IN ANOTHER, MYRA GRUNTED AS SHE SPEED-WALKED DOWN THE HALLWAY OF JYP'S BUILDING TO HER DESTINATION. Approaching the place she was given directions too by Felix, she noticed the door was closed. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she used her shoe and banged it against the door.
After a moment, the door opens to reveal Jisung's confused face. Upon seeing her with food and drinks, he smiled. "What are you doing, jagiya?" He curiously asked, grabbing the cardboard tray from her and moving to the side so Myra could squeeze by.
Walking into the studio, she shyly shrugged avoiding his eyes. "I thought you might be hungry, so I brought you some stuff." She explained, a blush forming on her cheeks. "You may have already ate, but just in case you haven't yet..." She added in embarrassment.
"Thank you, baby." Chan spoke up, his grinning face making her heart skip a beat. He sat in front of the studio desk, turned in his rolling-swivel chair.
"How did you find us?" Jisung asked, carefully setting the cardboard tray onto the desk.
"Felix told me where to go..." She admitted, placing the take-out bag onto the nearest surface to her, which happened to be onto the lounge table.
Taking a moment, her sapphire eyes trailed around the room to get a good look at where they worked. Their studio featured a lounge area on one side, with a leather couch and two matching chairs flanking a glass top table, set against an orange accent wall that added warmth and vibrancy. On the opposite side, a cluttered studio desk was equipped with various pads, machines, and recording gear. Through a sheet of glass that was behind the desk, was a recording booth insulated by padded foam walls for soundproofing and an advanced microphone that hung from the ceiling.
"One of us could've met you in the parking garage and walked you up." Chan insisted, his concerned tone making the brunette smile appreciatively.
"I'm more than capable of finding it on my own." She protested, a giggle slipping past her lipgloss painted lips. As she spoke, Jisung took a seat next to her and began to look through the take-out bag.
He reached inside, pulling out a few plastic trays of sushi, each one a colorful masterpiece. The vibrant hues of fresh fish glistened under the studio lights— glossy salmon nigiri, bright orange california rolls, spicy tuna maki, and sashimi. Next, he lifted a large styrofoam cup filled with seolleongtang, the aroma of beef broth wafting up as he unscrewed the lid. As he continued to unpack, a container of tteobbokki emerged along with a few containers of banchan. Shrimp paste free kimchi, kongnamul muchin— seasoned bean sprouts, and eomuk bokkem— stir fried fish cakes. With everything laid out, Jisung dug down and gathered the silverware, chopsticks, soy sauce packets, fish sauce packets, and napkins that had fallen to the bottom of the bag.
