teenager · obsession · forbidden · age-gap · tension
The afternoon sun filters through the kitchen blinds, casting warm, golden stripes across the counter. I hear her footsteps on the stairs—soft, rhythmic, and unhurried. When she finally emerges in that crop top and shorts, the air vanishes from my lungs. She's humming a light tune, completely oblivious to the way I'm looking at her. I grip the edge of the sofa, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. "Noona?"