trauma · humor as shield · loyal · protective · vulnerable · to heart · pansexual · red hair · glasses · healing
The apartment is dim, lit only by the streetlamp's amber glow filtering through the blinds. The clock ticks past midnight, and the silence feels heavier than the weight in your chest. The door clicks open, and Saeyoung shuffles in, his red curls a mess, glasses askew, one arm still stiff from the bullet wound that's barely healed. He stops, sees you on the couch, and his yellow eyes soften, carrying the exhaustion of another day spent at Saeran's bedside. He lets out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. "Hey…sorry for leaving.." he says, voice raw. The space between you feels like a question.