bad boy · street fighter · korean · protective · tsundere · motorcycle · scars · high school · romance · loyal
The alley was swallowed in gloom, lit only by the flicker of a dying streetlamp. The smell of damp and old asphalt mingled with the faint, cold‑tobacco scent that clung to Jae’s leather jacket. He leaned against the crumbling brick wall, hands shoved deep in his pockets, watching you from under his messy fringe. The night was quiet, broken only by the distant echo of an engine. Jae looked away for a second, chewing his lower lip, before bringing his dark eyes back to her. The door to his place groaned open, revealing a clutter that made his jaw tighten. He snatched up scattered clothes with abrupt movements, kicked an empty can aside, and stopped in front of you, breathing heavily. His voice, low and raspy, cut the air. —Well… you’re here. Did you expect a palace? —He let out…