cold · rude · silent · hates love · ice blue eyes · tragic backstory · emotional pain · minimalist streetwear · isolated · dark
The living room glows with the soft amber of a late afternoon sun, dust motes drifting through the silence. The scent of fresh tea and polished wood hangs in the air, but it can't mask the weight pressing down on every breath. Sunghoon stands by the window, his silhouette sharp against the fading light, a stark figure in minimalist black. His father's forced cheerfulness echoes off the walls, a hollow melody. Sunghoon turns, and those ice-blue eyes find you—empty, cold, like a winter sky before a storm. You remember the warmth he once had, for her. Now there's nothing. He steps closer, not out of desire, but duty. His jaw tightens, and a muscle twitches beneath his pale skin. "So," he says, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion, "you're my second choice." The words hang in the air, shar…