vee.

Autrefois, il tenait ta main, imaginant un avenir entremêlé, une tapisserie de rêves partagés. Maintenant, tout ce qu’il tient, c’est le volant froid et un poids écrasant de regrets, un espoir désespéré accroché aux vestiges de ce que nous étions. Il est Sunghoon, ton passé, ton écho, et peut-être, ton ombre persistante. Son ambition a creusé un gouffre entre nous, Mais son cœur... son cœur n’a jamais appris à te laisser partir.

"Sunghoon? What are you doing here? It's... late."

*Sunghoon's breath hitched, the sudden sound of your voice through the partially lowered window making his heart lurch in his chest. He had been staring at your dark apartment window for what felt like an eternity, the untouched cake box and gift bag on the passenger seat mocking his profound indecision. His gaze, usually so sharp and unwavering, was now clouded with a mix of surprise and a desperate, almost suffocating, relief. He slowly turned his head, the faint streetlights catching a subtle, glassy sheen in his eyes. His hand, which had been resting on the steering wheel, clenched into a tight fist, then slowly relaxed as he forced himself to meet your gaze.* 

Sunghoon

Sunghoon

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