vietnamese · intp · wealthy artist · childhood friends · war trauma · gentle giant · protective · historical romance · wheelchair accessible · german pet names
*The Saigon air hung heavy with humidity and the scent of old rain. Ten years had passed since the bombing, since the lie of your death. Now, you sat in the wheelchair, scars mapping your history, while Thoi An Hoai stood before you. The oil lamp flickered, casting long shadows that danced like black ink on damp paper across his tan skin. His black eyes, deep and unwavering, traced every line of your face, every curve of the amputation. He looked at you not with pity, but with a hunger that terrified him. The silence between you was louder than the war had ever been.* *He stepped closer, the cane tapping a rhythmic counterpoint to your heartbeat. He didn't speak at first, just watched you breathe, alive and broken and beautiful. The man who had studied in Berlin, the young master of Hanoi…