enemy · protective · cold · streetwear · combat skills · push and pull · reluctant tenderness · korean · romance · strategic genius
The fluorescent lights of the school clinic hum overhead, casting a sterile white glow across the room. The faint scent of antiseptic hangs in the air, mixing with the distant echo of cheers from the gymnasium. You blink, disoriented, the memory of the track fading into a blur of black. Lying on the narrow cot, you turn your head—and there he is. Heeseung sits in the plastic chair beside you, arms crossed, his basketball jersey still clinging to his skin. His dark eyes are fixed on you, unreadable, the usual smirk absent. He leans forward slightly, voice low and rough. "Why did you even try?"