Have You Eaten?
Ep. 1

Untitled

2026-06-16

Cast: Junseo

Why him, of all people.Untitled #2Why am I still holding on to this.Untitled #3The warmth of that clinic still won't leave my shoulder.The rain had no intention of stopping before I reached home.Untitled #5Every day. The same fingers. The same spot.Untitled #6Cold coffee. Beneath it, the smell of antiseptic.Untitled #7Yesterday, that clinic. Right here — the breath catches a beat too late.Untitled #8For now. For now, it's still manageable. 'For now.' That word, used twice.Untitled #9Hey… dinner— The rest didn't follow.Untitled #10It's raining. Take at least something warm. …take it with you.I have to return this. It's someone else's cup. But five days is too far away.Untitled #12The fact that five days felt too far — that's what made me stop cold.The next morning. The worn mark… I couldn't erase it.Untitled #14What was in my bag felt like an egg. The umbrella… I knew I'd forget it again.Deep in an alley. First floor of a low building.The scent I'd known from the cup — here, it was the source.Untitled #17Oh, do you have a reservation today…? No. You left a cup yesterday. I came to return it.Untitled #18Ah, the director's cup. This one — the director really treasures it.Untitled #19A cherished cup. Coffee still half inside. For me.Untitled #20I caught that half-beat pause. "You didn't have to."Untitled #21"…How could I not." "You said you use it every day." That's right—Untitled #22"…Wait, come inside."A grey rabbit that wasn't there yesterday. "Is it admitted?" "Came in yesterday. A fracture."Untitled #24Every day. The same spot.Untitled #25Rabbits have light bones — they break much more easily than people think.Untitled #26Not a hand reaching out to touch — but one waiting to be approached.Untitled #27It's okay. I won't hurt you.Untitled #28He told the rabbit everything... But cut me off at 'Did you eat—'Yesterday — you cut off right at 'Did you eat—'Untitled #30That was— ...I was going to ask if you'd been eating properly.Untitled #31For the rabbit to take its medicine properly, the guardian needs to be eating too. ...Professionally speaking. That's all....You skipped again yesterday. Not asking. That was a diagnosis.Untitled #33Then do you ask all your other clients that too?Untitled #34That silence was the answer. A habit that surfaces whenever he's at a loss.Untitled #35...I don't. Usually.I don't usually ask. — Only to me.The ground beneath me tilted to one side.Untitled #38I've returned the cup, so I'll be— Going?Untitled #39Like someone who wrapped 'don't go' in different words.Untitled #40This. Pardon? …Take it.Untitled #41But I just returned it. I know. …It's raining again. You came without an umbrella.Untitled #42An empty cup can't become an umbrella. As if pressing a reason to return into their hands, with my own.Untitled #43A little longer than yesterday.In the spot he touched every day.Beyond the door, the next customer. The bell rang.Untitled #46Next appointment is in five days. Keep the cat's medication on schedule. And you too — don't skip meals.Untitled #47This time, it actually had an ending.Untitled #48A back that looked like it was trying hard not to look back.Untitled #49If I think about it any more, those five days will feel even farther away.Outside, it was raining again.Untitled #51Because of this person, I've been caught in the rain twice now. But the strange thing was — I didn't mind.The moment I stepped under the eaves, one vibration.Untitled #53Before you go to sleep, could you count the cat's breaths for me? If it goes over thirty, let me know.Untitled #54Precise. No fluff. This was a doctor's message.Untitled #55The breathing count was about the cat. But I kept thinking of a different rhythm.I wonder — how many times is my heart beating right now.The bus came. I didn't get on.Untitled #58Yes, I'll count before I sleep. Thank you for letting me know. Maybe I should've written more.Until I got home, no reply came.Untitled #60Without realizing it, I'd memorized the place where he used to be.Untitled #61Night. The lights went out.Untitled #62One, two, three…Untitled #63Twenty-four. Under thirty. Still passable, for now.Untitled #64They say he's the one who reads her pain. Then who reads his?Untitled #65It was eleven at night. Did you count them?Untitled #66Yes. Twenty-four a minute. That's a relief. After that, a long silence.Untitled #67And you. Again — it stopped right there.Untitled #68Even the tail of that simple question — I couldn't bring myself to finish it, not even in text.Untitled #69I don't think I need to count mine. Though it does feel a bit fast. Too much?Untitled #70That's… not something I can check for you.Untitled #71He noticed — and chose to play dumb. In just that one line, I was completely seen through.Untitled #72I'll come pick up the cat in five days, then. Sure. Please keep track of the breathing rate every day.Untitled #73…Good night. This time, the call didn't drop. You too, Director.Untitled #74I put down my phone and lay in the dark.Untitled #75One excuse to return — held in my hand. One ending left to fill — on the screen.Untitled #76It was clearly an empty cup. Something like warmth that hasn't cooled yet — still lingering here.