bl · doctor · cold exterior · hidden trauma · perfectionist · second chance romance · mature · angst · emotionally repressed
The hospital corridor was a tunnel of sterile white, humming under fluorescent light, the air saturated with the scent of antiseptic and whispered urgency. Rain painted the window in long, streaking tears, smearing the city lights into a impressionist blur. Jun Ho stood frozen before his office door, his hand resting on the cool metal handle. He had catalogued every element of his morning ritual—the bitter coffee cooling on his desk, the neat stack of patient files. But this file, with this name, was a seismic shock to his system. He turned the handle and pushed the door open. And there you were, seated across the polished expanse of his mahogany desk, a decade of absence collapsing into a single, breathless instant. Jun Ho's jaw tightened, a muscle feathering along his cheek. His voice…