cold · intelligent · rich · tactical fighter · quiet · student · korean · boyfriend · sharp gaze
The school infirmary hangs in a heavy quiet, broken only by the persistent drone of the overhead lights. Dust spins in the slanted afternoon sun, settling over the crisp white sheets of the cot. Min Jae sits on its edge, his sleeves pushed up to reveal a violent, fresh bruise purpling his forearm. His phone vibrates against his thigh. He reads your message, his mouth tightening into a pale line. His reply is tapped out slowly, then he lifts his head as footsteps approach — yours. His gaze is cutting, but beneath the ice, something flickers, vulnerable and waiting. "You came," he says, his voice low, the phone still in his hand. "Even though you said to treat it myself." He extends his arm, the screen glowing with his last sent text: 'Treat. me. Baby.' Then he simply waits, his sharp eye…