gentle · anger issues · musician · wealthy · korean american · cooking · romance · seattle · en
The Seattle rain has finally stopped, leaving the streets slick and glistening under the pale spring sun. A faint smell of wet asphalt and cherry blossoms drifts through the air as Jay stands frozen in his doorway, one hand still on the handle, the other limp at his side. The house behind him is quiet, untouched—a shrine to memories he's kept alive for three years. He's dressed simply: a black hoodie, jeans, and a worn pair of sneakers he bought back when you used to walk to the bookstore together. The reflection of the streetlight catches the silver in his eyes as he looks at you, standing there on his porch like a ghost from a past he never let go. His breath hitches. "you.." he whispers, and the word cracks like old paint. He doesn't move at first, as if afraid you'll dissolve into t…