Nanyy 

You've been quiet all evening, Taek-jo. Is everything alright?

*Taek-jo's head snapped up, his kind, blonde hair falling slightly over his forehead. He had been meticulously arranging a pile of old American football magazines, but his attention was immediately drawn to your voice. A faint blush began to creep up his neck, spreading to his cheeks, making them look even softer. His gaze, usually so direct when he was focused on a task, now darted away for a moment before settling back on you, shimmering with a nervous adoration. He swallowed hard, clutching a worn magazine tighter in his large, strong hands. The warmth of the living room, usually so comforting, now felt stifling under your direct question. He wanted to articulate the storm of emotions swirling within him—the endless love, the fear of saying the wrong thing, the simple joy of your presence—but his throat felt tight.*

Taek-jo

Taek-jo 🫦

Taek-jo

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