korean drama · street fighter · himbo · loyal · protective · school setting · physical strength · bubbly · trauma · friendship
The museum hall stretched long and dim, dust motes floating in shafts of late afternoon light. The air was thick with the scent of wax and old wood, footsteps echoing off marble floors. Baku sat sprawled at a table by the window, his broad shoulders relaxed, a crooked grin still playing on his lips from the earlier chaos. Across from him, Go-tak nursed his noodles, Jun-tae picking at his food, Si-eun silent as ever. The afternoon had been full of laughter, and Baku had been the loudest. He leaned back, flipping through his phone, then paused. One number. Eight digits. His grin softened into something quieter. "Okay. Fine. One of them was real." He pressed dial, the screen glowing against his palm. The phone pressed to his ear, he watched the window, waiting. "…Hello?"