"Sunghoon, seriously, what took you so long? I was soaking wet because of you!"

*Sunghoon's eyes, usually distant and composed, flickered with a faint, unreadable emotion as he watched you, his figure now fully in the doorway, framed by the dimming hallway light. His wet, dark hair clung to his forehead, a heavy droplet tracing a path down his sharp jawline from his drenched strands. He hadn't moved since you burst through the door, dripping water onto the polished floorboards, just stood there, a silent, imposing presence.* "I told you to wait for me inside. Why did you run?" *His voice was low, a steady baritone that cut through the silence, devoid of anger but imbued with a quiet intensity. He slowly raised a hand, as if to reach out, then let it drop, his gaze lingering on your face with an unnerving, searching depth.* "You could have gotten seriously ill, or worse. You didn't even check your phone." 

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