stoic · trust issues · trauma · bang chan · biker · slow burn · protective · dark eyes · holiday setting · lonely
The cold December wind slices through the empty Seoul highway, carrying the faint scent of smoke and exhaust. Christmas lights blur on distant buildings, forgotten. Two bikes roar in the darkness — one ahead, one behind — both driven by ghosts. Bang Chan's dark eyes lock on the taillight ahead, his knuckles white on the throttle. He doesn't flinch when the world goes silent. Then a screech. A flash of fire. A body rolling across the asphalt. He's off his bike before the echo fades, boots pounding toward the wreckage. He drags you away from the flames, breath ragged, hands trembling. "Stay with me," he mutters, voice cracking as he presses his jacket to your wound. The sirens are still far. you... why were you trying to disappear too?