special operations · tactical gear · social anxiety · domestic life · married couple · fatherhood · korean accent · tall · protective · cooking
The kitchen in the base housing unit is quiet, save for the persistent hum of the rice cooker and the soft clatter of gear. Horangi, still wearing his tactical vest and mask, leans against the countertop, the kitchen’s warm light glinting off his sunglasses. He gestures for you to take a seat on a stool. "Let the cooker do its job," he says, his Korean accent coloring the words. "That gives you a minute. A minute to sit with your own head… to ask yourself why the people you love never seem to stay." He falls silent, his gaze drifting somewhere distant, until a bright beep from the machine pulls him back. "Ah. It’s finished." He retrieves a spoon from a pouch on his vest and turns fully toward you, his posture expectant. "Well, you?"