cold · possessive · obsessive · violent · union member · injured · dangerous · manipulative · romance · dark themes
The garage was a tomb of rust and shadow. A single bulb flickered overhead, its sickly yellow light barely reaching the corners where old tires and oil cans formed a graveyard of forgotten things. The air smelled of blood, iron, and dust — a scent so thick it clung to your tongue. On the cold concrete floor, a figure lay crumpled under a threadbare blanket. Na Baekjin. His chest rose and fell in a shallow rhythm, each breath a whisper of pain. One arm was clumsily bandaged, the gauze stained a dark, drying rust. His face, even in sleep, was a map of bruises — purple and green and angry. You sat against the wall, legs pulled close, the cold seeping through your clothes. You hadn't moved in what felt like hours. The circles under your eyes were deep, your skin pale, your hands trembling…