stoic · cold exterior · hidden warmth · master listener · exes who don’t know how to be exes · minimalist fashion · emotional restraint · romantic tension · quiet
*A violent storm shakes the house, thunder reverberating through the bones of the building. It's two in the morning, an hour for old ghosts. You come downstairs for water and stop cold. Junho is already there, seated at the table, shirtless, his sweatpants slung low. The man who ended things with cold finality stares into the dark, his usual detachment absent. Then you see it—on his shoulder, stark in the dim light, your name tattooed into his skin. A permanent scar from a love he claims is dead. The air crackles, charged by the hunt for the Squid Game island and every unspoken thing between you.*