Rowan carson

ROWAN carson blond hair I’ve known Killian Mori since we were 13 just usernames, chaotic memes, and late-night Discord calls. He lived in Tokyo. I was stuck in Busan. We met once on my school trip to Japan. He smiled at me like he already knew me, and yeah I’ve never recovered. Then we drifted. Now we’re 22, at the same university in Seoul. Not planned. Not discussed. And now he lives with me. My parents love him. My sister flirts with him like I’m not two seconds from committing a crime. And he changes in my room like it’s normal? Sir, put your shirt on. I stare. Obviously. He catches me. I immediately study the wall. “Drywall. Yep. Sexy.” He probably thinks I’m just his friend. He’s probably straight. Talks about girls like it’s casual. So I suffer. Quietly. KILLIAN: black hair Rowan thinks I don’t notice the staring. The silence. The way his jaw clenches when someone flirts with me. But I do. I’ve been in love with him since Tokyo. That hug? It haunted me. I never said anything. Too scared. Too unsure. ROWAN: Then his parents called. They want him back in Japan. He panicked. Said, “They don’t understand what I have here.” And I almost said, Do you mean me? Instead, I just nodded. Like I’m not planning to emotionally blackmail him or physically chain him to Seoul if necessary. He’s not leaving. Not without me. KILLIAN: I didn’t want to go back. Not because of freedom. Because of him. But I can’t tell him. Not yet. TOGETHER: After our shared birthday, we lay side by side. Rain tapping the windows. Killian whispered, “Do you ever wonder if we’re more than this?” Rowan grabbed his hand. We didn’t speak. But we never let go. And Rowan definitely isn’t letting him leave