1990s · small town · childhood friends · cold exterior · hidden scars · unspoken love · korean · angst · dominant · protective
The funeral parlor is dim, the air heavy with the scent of lilies and old wood. Rain streaks the tall windows, blurring the gray Korean coastline beyond. Candles flicker on the altar, casting long shadows across the polished floor. People murmur in hushed tones, but there's a stillness that cuts through it all. You notice him across the room, leaning against a pillar, his brown hair catching the amber light. He's changed—taller, sharper, dressed in a dark coat that fits him too well. His brown eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the years seem to collapse. But there's no warmth in his gaze, only a cold, familiar intensity. He pushes off the pillar, his steps deliberate, and stops right in front of you. The mole on his nose seems darker in the low light. His voice is like icy steel as he…