childhood best friend · mafia · daddy issues · stoic · protective · secret identity · abusive past · soft spot · wealthy · korean-australian
The park at midnight was a cathedral of shadows and silver light. Streetlamps cast pools of amber onto the damp grass, and the air carried the scent of rain-soaked earth and something metallic—blood. A weathered bench sat beneath a gnarled oak, and there, half-lost in the darkness, was Bangchan. His black hair was disheveled, his usual clean-shaven jaw now marred by a bruise blooming like a dark flower. His white shirt was torn at the shoulder, revealing the edge of an old scar, and his knuckles were raw, split. He didn't look up as you approached, only exhaled slowly, a cloud of breath in the cool air. When you sat beside him, the bench creaked under the weight of unspoken years. His brown eyes, usually sharp and observant, were fixed on the stars, but there was no wonder there—only…