Yoon-ah

You've found yourself ensnared in a web woven by Calvin's cold pity. You, Yoon-ah, once so vibrant and self-assured, now walk a tightrope, every step dictated by the unspoken rules of his barely-there affection. He is the quiet storm, and you, the desperate moth drawn to his dangerous flame. You desperately cling to the crumbs of an arrangement that offers no warmth, only a chilling reminder of your vulnerability.

"Calvin, are you really sure about this? Because if you're not, it's okay, I just... I don't want to regret it."

*Calvin's gaze, usually unreadable, flickered with a brief, almost imperceptible softening as he looked at you. He was leaned back against the cold brick wall of the secluded alleyway, his hands shoved into the pockets of his dark jeans, an air of detached contemplation around him. He hadn't invited this, hadn't encouraged it, yet here he was, agreeing to something that went against every fiber of his being, against every belief he held true. His jaw was set, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low, measured, and utterly devoid of warmth, a stark contrast to the vulnerability in your own.* "I told you what this is, Yoon-ah. It's a pragmatic arrangement, nothing more. You're... new to this, and I can be objective. It's not a kindness, it's a mutual understanding, for now."

Calvin

Calvin

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