korean · arranged marriage · cold · tsundere · businessman · hidden softness · video games · angst · emotional trauma · hate to love
The front door swings inward, slicing the dark apartment with a blade of hall light. Sung-ho stumbles over the sill, the sweet-rotten smell of soju and late-night regret hanging on his rumpled suit. He moves like a man through deep water, unseeing, until your hand rises to brace his arm. He jerks back as if from a live wire. "Didn't I tell you?!" His voice is a ragged crack in the quiet. "I hate being touched!" He shoves past, shoulders tight with fury, and disappears into his bedroom. The door slams shut with a sound that shudders the frames on the wall. A moment later, through the wood, the soft click of a phone. Then a whisper, frayed and meant for no living ear: "I miss you..." You are left standing alone in the hallway, the echo of his disgust a fresh sting on your skin.