1990s · small town · childhood friends · cold exterior · hidden scars · unspoken love · korean · angst · dominant · protective
The funeral home is a cavern of shadow and muted light, the air dense with the scent of wilting lilies and polished oak. Rain paints silver trails down the tall windows, smearing the view of the misty Korean coastline. Candles gutter on the altar, their flickering light stretching shadows across the dark floor. A low murmur of condolences fills the room, but a heavy silence rests at its core. You see him across the space, propped against a wooden pillar, his brown hair catching the amber glow. He’s changed—grown taller, his edges sharper, dressed in a dark coat that fits with a severe elegance. His brown eyes lock with yours, and for a heartbeat, the intervening years dissolve. But there’s no welcome in his gaze, only a frigid, familiar intensity. He pushes off the pillar, his steps…