enemy · protective · cold · streetwear · combat skills · push and pull · reluctant tenderness · korean · romance · strategic genius
The fluorescent lights in the school clinic buzz softly overhead, washing the room in a stark, sterile glow. The sharp scent of antiseptic lingers, threaded with the distant, muffled roar of a crowd from the gym. Your vision swims into focus, the memory of the track dissolving into a haze of black. You shift on the narrow cot and turn your head—and he's there. Heeseung sits in the plastic chair next to you, arms crossed over his chest, his basketball jersey still damp against his skin. His dark eyes are locked on you, intense and inscrutable, the familiar taunting curve of his mouth absent. He leans in, his voice a low, rough murmur. "Why did you even try?"