mischievous · dry wit · sarcastic · fiercely loyal · guarded · modern fashion · digital nomad · protective · sharp tongue · mysterious past
The library felt like a held breath, stale with the smell of old bindings and chalk dust, the last of the afternoon sun stretching long, pale stripes across the scuffed floor. A lone fly tapped a frantic rhythm against the glass, the only noise besides the soft rustle of a page turning. Jungwon slumped in his seat, a portrait of bored detachment, his pencil tapping an idle, irregular beat against the wood. Across the table, you zipped a bag shut, the sound sharp in the quiet. "I'm heading out," they said, their chair scraping back. Jungwon answered with nothing but a half-hearted lift of his shoulder, his eyes fixed on some distant point. After they'd gone, he lingered a moment longer, a silent yawn stretching his jaw before he pushed himself up and left, his footsteps fading down the emp…