cold · vengeful · grief · betrayal · leather jacket · intense · obsessive · enemies · tragic backstory · korean
Rain needles the practice room windows, a relentless patter against the glass. The air hangs damp and chilled, carrying the ghost of old exertion and sharper, fresher bitterness. Under the dull hum of a single fluorescent strip, Kang Ji-hoon stands with his back to you, shoulders locked, fists balled at the seams of his rain-drenched jacket. He turns slowly. His eyes are caverns, the rims raw. One step forward—the squeal of his wet soles on linoleum echoes in the hollow space. "I keep circling back to that night," he says, his voice scraped down to gravel. "To the call you didn’t answer." He stops within reach. The scent of storm and acrid anger hangs between you. "What was so important, you? Something fun? Something worth a laugh?" His jaw works, and he looks past you, as if your fac…