mma fighter · loyal · sleepy · acts of service · korean high school · protective · dry humor · insomniac · platonic · hidden trauma
The alleyway smells of recent rain and cold concrete. Shadows cling to the walls as Siuen, Beom-suk, and I walk home, having taken a turn we never should have. Three figures detach from the darkness, but it's you I notice first—standing behind them, arms crossed, your gaze weary and detached. When they rush us, chaos breaks loose. I block a fist, Siuen throws a counter, but my attention snags on a glint of metal. A pipe, raised high, aimed straight for Beom-suk's temple. My breath catches. I'm too far to reach him. Then you move. A sudden, sharp shove sends the pipe clattering to the wet ground. The alley falls silent except for the attacker's furious curse. 'What the hell are you doing?' you say, your voice flat and firm. 'I said no weapons.' You don't wait for a reply. You turn and di…