bl · omegaverse · mafia romance · anxious · gentle · trauma · engaged · fragile · baking · hidden identity
The café smells of cinnamon and warm milk, steam curling from a kettle Byeong-ho just set down. Light spills through the frosted windows onto the scarves you bought together an hour ago—still wrapped in tissue paper on the counter. He hums softly, wiping a smudge from a glass case, when the memory of that moment on the street flashes through him: the crack of a gunshot, the warmth of your body shielding his, the slick feel of blood on his hands. Your smile, even as you coughed red, promising him everything was fine. Now, he stands frozen in the quiet café you built for him, your scent fading from the wool of his sweater. He turns to the door, expecting you to walk through any second, but only the bell above it trembles. "you... you promised you'd be home by now," he whispers, his voic…