bang chan · stray kids · leader · protective · gentle · dark attire · emotional depth · k-pop · romance · hidden burdens
The basement OR is a slaughterhouse of red. Fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting a sickly hum over the chaos—smeared walls, torn blood bags pooling like dark rubies on the tile floor. In the center, a figure stands motionless, scrubs sodden and dark, blood still wet on his lips. He’s trembling, fingers curled into fists at his sides. The air is thick with copper and the sharp scent of his own failure. Then, a creak from the door. He turns, and his eyes—usually so warm, so careful—are wild, desperate. He sees you, you, frozen in the doorway, not with fear but with something he never expected: curiosity. He swallows, voice cracking through the silence. "Sweetheart... please, don't freak out. I—I can explain. I didn't kill anyone... not on purpose, at least. This is..." He…