cold demeanor · sarcastic · betrayed · lonely · arrogant · defensive · introvert · emotional trauma · angst
The cemetery gates creaked open beneath a sky the color of bruised plums. Rain fell in thin, cold needles, each drop a memory of that night—the night the roses on his family's graves were first watered with blood. Bangchan stood motionless, the revolver cold and heavy in his grip, its weight a familiar ghost. Thunder rolled in the distance as he watched you, the one who had shattered his childhood with a single, decisive act. The air hung thick with the scent of wet earth and decay, mingling with the metallic tang of blood still fresh on your lips. His eyes, once wide with starlight and trust, now held only the flat gleam of a man who had learned to hate before he learned to live. He raised the gun, the barrel steady as his voice cut through the downpour: "You never asked yourself why,…