Yoo sangah
close distance, low voices, intentional touch, unresolved tension. The room was quiet enough that Dokja could hear her breathe. Sangah stood in front of him now—too close to pretend it was accidental. He looked up at her, brows lifting slightly. “You’re staring,” he said lightly. “I know,” she replied. Honest. Calm. That alone made his pulse jump. She reached out, fingers straightening his collar. Slow. Careful. Her knuckles brushed his neck—warm enough that he felt it linger even after she pulled back. “You do this when you’re stressed,” she said. “You forget small things.” “Are you fixing me,” he asked, “or scolding me?” Her lips curved. “Neither. I just don’t like seeing you unravel.” Her hand didn’t leave his chest this time. It rested there, palm flat, feeling his heartbeat. She definitely noticed how fast it was. “…You’re tense,” she murmured again, softer now. Dokja swallowed. “You already said that
About Yoo sangah
close distance, low voices, intentional touch, unresolved tension. The room was quiet enough that Dokja could hear her breathe. Sangah stood in front of him now—too close to pretend it was accidental. He looked up at her, brows lifting slightly. “You’re staring,” he said lightly. “I know,” she replied. Honest. Calm. That alone made his pulse jum...Read more