Title:"This Soft Rebellion" [Inspired by somwhere only we know by hope and fear] It started in the forgotten part of town a park swallowed by weeds and time, where broken benches leaned like tired bones and the wind carried the ghosts of laughter. Sunoo liked it there. It was the only place where the noise of the world didn’t demand him to be louder, braver, more something. And then Y/N showed up. Boots crunching dead leaves, a scar on her cheek like a badge of survival, eyes like storms that didn’t apologize for raining. She was everything he wasn’t loud in presence, quiet in pain, wild in ways that made the sky look tame. “You always hide here?” she asked the first time, half a smirk on her lips. “You always invade sacred places?” he countered, a rare sharpness in his voice. That was the beginning. They met again. And again. Days blurred. The city never noticed them vanishing into that green oblivion, but they noticed each other in glances that lingered too long, in silences that meant more than words. Y/N talked about running. “I want to disappear,” she’d say. “Take a train, never look back.” Sunoo would nod, not because he wanted to run, but because he understood what it meant to need escape. He talked about feeling too much. “It hurts,” he’d whisper. “Everything does.” And Y/N, who’d built walls from pain, softened only for him. “Then don’t carry it alone,” she said. One rainy evening, they sat on the old carousel, rusted and unmoving, yet still somehow magical. She looked at him like he was the only gentle thing left in the world. He looked at her like she was the only one who could survive it. “I’m scared,” he said. “Of what?” “Of this. Of you. Of finally feeling safe.” Y/N didn’t flinch. She just held his hand, rough and delicate together. “You think I’m not scared too?” she asked “You think I don’t want to run the second I realize I care?” He looked up at her the girl who fought everything [DETAILED READING IF YOU WANT] 👆

"Crimson Glare" [inspired by gradient by josh makazoo] Y/N knew Hyunjin was wrong for her the second he looked at her like he already owned her. Not in the way boys flirt in the way wolves watch. Cautious. Calculated. Carnivorous They met in shadows, in the half-light of some underground bar where basslines hit harder than morals. He wore all black, jaw sharp like a warning. And when he smiled slow, deliberate it didn’t reach his eyes. But she followed him anyway. There was no soft beginning. No candlelit dates. No whispered promises. Just tension. Static. A stare that didn’t break. She told herself it was fascination. That’s what people did with danger, right? Stare at it until it burned holes in them. But Hyunjin was the kind of burn that felt good. He moved through the world like he had nothing to lose and everything to break. And somehow, she liked the way he looked at her like she was both. It was late, maybe 3AM. She showed up at his place after one of their fights red-eyed, makeup smudged, biting back whatever pride she had left. “I’m not your Fxxcking possession, Hyunjin,” she hissed, voice cracking. “You can’t keep doing this controlling, twisting” “You’re the one who came back.” That stopped her. He took a step forward, slow and predatory. She stepped back, spine hitting the cold brick wall of his apartment hallway. Her chest rose and fell, every breath daring him. “You want me to stop?” he murmured, voice low. “Say it.” Her lips parted but nothing came out. And that’s when his hand wrapped around her throat. Not tight. Not soft either. Just enough. Fingers cold, grip steady. His body pressed close, caging her in. The air shifted. Her heart slammed. “Say it,” he repeated eyes boring into hers, all storm and hunger and something darker. Y/N’s hands curled around his wrist not to pull away. Just to feel. “You don’t want me to stop,” he whispered, voice dragging like velvet over glass “You like it when I ruin you." [detailed reading] 👆

“Hotel Room 312 ” [Inspired by "Made Me a Man" – Jackson Wang BL] The rain hadn’t stopped in three days. Neither had Yoon-seok’s unease. He worked the graveyard shift at a once-grand hotel nestled in a part of the city time had abandoned. The building creaked with secrets. Velvet-lined halls held the scent of forgotten perfumes and old regrets. A place where things came to disappear lovers, money, sometimes people. Yoon-seok didn’t ask questions. He was good at that. The guests came and went like mist, faces blurred by half-light and fogged windows. Most never stayed more than a night. They never looked back. And neither did he. Until the night he arrived. Baek-ho. Tall. Pale. A silhouette cut from smoke. He stepped through the glass doors just after 3:12 a.m., soaked but unbothered. Black clothes clung to his frame like they belonged to him more than skin. He didn’t check in. Didn’t ask. He dropped a thick wad of bills on the counter and said only, “Room 312.” Yoon-seok hesitated. “We usually require ID” Baek-ho didn’t speak. He just looked at him. And something about that stare too steady, too knowing made Yoon-seok’s throat tighten. He handed him the key. Hands brushed, just slightly. Cold fingers. Warmer than expected. In the days that followed, Baek-ho didn’t vanish into his room like the others. He lingered. First in the lobby, sitting beneath the broken chandelier, watching the rain blur the world beyond. Then on the staircase between floors, still as a shadow. Sometimes near the back office, where Yoon-seok liked to hide with the lights dimmed and his headphones in. Baek-ho never knocked. Never spoke. But he was there. And Yoon-seok? He started watching back..to be continued..PLEASE GO TO MORE DETAILED READING PLACE GO PRESS ON THE BUTTON WHERE THE NAME OF BAEK-HO IS AND GO DOWN THERE IS A MORE DETAILED EXPLANATION. thank you.

Title: "Same Black Tie" [inspired by black tie by jeff satur] Y/N told herself she was free. She left quietly, without goodbyes, slipping out of the life he wrapped around her like silk and steel. No contact. No headlines. No trace. But when the envelope arrived black, heavy, with her name embossed in silver she knew it was over. There were no threats inside. Just an address. A date. And beneath it, in his handwriting: “I never stopped waiting.” She should’ve burned it. Instead, she got in the car. The penthouse was as cold and calculated as the man who ruled it. All glass and marble. It looked down on the city like a god. Lee Minho didn’t rise when she walked in. He didn’t need to. He was already winning. “I see exile humbled you,” he said simply. She didn’t answer. Her silence didn’t bother him. He’d always preferred her quiet it made it easier to read her thoughts, easier to bend her without words. Two years hadn’t changed him. Still dressed like he could command a boardroom or bury a body without blinking. Still wearing the same black tie the one she once loosened on nights when his cruelty turned soft behind closed doors. But that softness was gone now. If it had ever been real. “You had your fun playing free,” he said. “Now I’m done waiting.” He handed her a folder. Legal. Sealed. She didn’t open it. “You think I’d just come back because you asked?” she said. He didn’t answer. Because he knew. She had come back. And that was enough. What she didn’t realize what she hadn’t seen in the fine print of the life she once lived was that Lee Minho never let go of anything he touched. Not companies. Not power. Not her. And this time, he wasn’t going to let her walk out. Not without paying the full price.

Title:"Velvet Ruin" [inspired by ride or die by jeff Satur] The city never slept, but it always mourned. Rain washed the blood from alleyways and the sins from rooftops, but never the guilt from Minho’s hands. He wasn't looking for redemption he stopped pretending to care about that long ago. What he needed was silence. Stillness. A reason to stop running. He found her in the quiet. Y/N. She wasn’t the kind of beautiful that made heads turn. She was the kind that made people uneasy like staring into eyes that had seen too much and lived through too little. She worked the bar like she didn’t care if the world ended the next day. Maybe she hoped it would. Minho watched her pour drinks like poison, speak like each word was a dare, and smile like it hurt. He didn’t ask her name the first night. Didn’t need to. Some people don’t enter your life they collide into it like car crashes and bullets. They became a secret no one could afford. She didn't ask about the blood under his nails, and he didn’t flinch when she stitched up her own ribs in the bathroom mirror. Their love was never soft. It was desperate. Sharp-edged. Reckless. But in the madness, they made sense. Minho would die for her. He decided that before he even kissed her. And when he finally did it was in the middle of a storm, with sirens screaming down the street, the taste of gasoline in the air, and her hands tangled in his like a prayer. But love like theirs didn’t get a happy ending. It got warnings. Ultimatums. Bodies. Minho crossed the wrong man. The kind of man who didn’t need to raise his voice to cut throats. The kind of man Y/N used to work for. Secrets spilled. Blood followed. And just like that, the world started collapsing. They ran. They burned bridges and buried names. Every day was survival, every night a countdown. But in the chaos, they were alive more than they had ever been.

Title:"In the Name of Ruin" [inspired by Say The name by Jeff Satur] The rain hadn’t stopped in three days. Bangkok pulsed with neon and smoke, and the night air stung like secrets waiting to be confessed. Y/N walked fast, heels clicking like a countdown, heart beating out of rhythm. That’s when she saw him. Niki. Leaning against the rusted frame of a closed tattoo parlor, cigarette between his lips, black hoodie soaked to the bone. His eyes flicked to her, sharp, glassy like he recognized her from another lifetime. Or maybe just the kind of man who recognizes broken things when he sees them. “You always walk alone this late?” he asked, voice low like a cello in a funeral song.“Only when I don’t want to be found,” she replied. He smiled, slow and dangerous. “Too late.” That was the beginning. Y/N didn’t know what Niki did for a living. He had too much silence in his soul and too many scars on his hands for it to be something ordinary. He smelled like smoke and leather, his kisses tasted like fire, and when he said her name, it didn’t feel like a name anymore it felt like a possession. “Y/N,” he would whisper against her throat, his breath warm, eyes bruised with sleepless nights. “Don’t disappear on me.” “I should,” she whispered. “You’re not safe.” He chuckled, bitter and breathless. “Neither are you.” The city became their accomplice empty parking lots, forgotten rooftops, dirty motels. They loved like fugitives, fast and quiet, like the world would end if they stopped. Maybe it already had. She never asked about the tattoos that coiled around his ribs or the names burned into them. He never asked why her hands always trembled when he touched her like she deserved to be worshipped. But there were whispers. A girl before her. A fire. A death that was never solved. And Niki the boy with the knife and the piano hands had something to do with it. Still, Y/N stayed. Not because she trusted him but because she saw something deeper in his darkness.

Title:"Beautiful Ruin" [inspired by the machine by reed wonder] They say love is patient. That it waits. They're wrong. Love isn’t patient. It’s a hunger with a pretty face A storm with soft hands. I knew that the second I saw her Y/N She wasn’t doing anything special. Just standing in the rain, blinking up at the streetlight like it had a secret to tell her. Everyone else passed like ghosts, but not her. She was real. Bright Unaware. And mine. Not in some sweet fairytale way. No. In the way a wolf knows which deer in the forest is already bleeding I didn’t chase her. I didn’t need to. I watched. I waited. And when I stepped into her world, I made sure she felt me before she even turned around. Fear. Curiosity. Heat. She pretended she didn’t see me at first. I let her pretend. Some people like to believe they choose who they love. Let her have the illusion I didn’t flirt I didn’t play. I studied her the way she held her coffee cup too tight when she lied, the way she looked down when she was unsure, the little tremble in her lip when someone got too close. She thought I was beautiful. Good. I am. But beauty hides sharp things. And I’m not soft. I’m not sweet. I’m not the kind of man who asks, “Do you love me?” I look you in the eyes and say, “Prove it." The first time she tried to leave i almost laughed. Her hand shook on the doorknob. She looked back at me like she expected a fight. But I don’t fight for what’s already mine. “You’ll come back,” I said. And she did. Because there’s no version of her life where I don’t exist now. I live under her skin. I breathe between her thoughts. She told herself I was dangerous. She was right. But what scared her more was how much she wanted that danger. How much she wanted me. I don’t hurt her. Not unless she asks me to. And sometimes she does. With her eyes. With her silence. With the way she leans in when I’m angry, like she wants to see how far I’ll go. I love her. But I don’t love like other people.

Title: "Weakness" [Inspired by Belong To You by Josh Makazoo] Sunoo had always been sunshine sweet to the core, laughing with his whole body, twirling to music in public without a care. He wore oversized sweaters, bunny pins, and called everyone “cutie” with zero fear. Everyone adored him, but no one took him seriously. Y/N was the opposite. Cold. Sharp. She rarely smiled, and when she did it usually meant trouble. She walked through life with a don’t-touch-me energy that made people obey. She never started fights, but she always ended them. So when Sunoo walked straight into her on the first day of class, eyes wide and pink lips apologizing a hundred times, it was like watching a kitten crash into a lioness. People waited for her to bite. But she didn’t. She stared at him for a second blinked slowly and said, “Watch where you’re going fluffball" Then walked away Sunoo was enchanted. After that he kept showing up With candy Dumb jokes Tiny trinkets Always smiling always a little too close, always brave enough to poke at her ice At first she rolled her eyes Told him to go away Threatened him once with a pen to the neck He laughed “You wouldn’t hurt me” he said tilting his head “I’m your favorite” She should’ve slapped him Instead she turned away hiding the curve of her lips Damn it. He melted her without even trying Eventually they became inseparable her in all black and boots, him in pastels and plushie keychains walking down campus like the oddest couple in existence. She never said she liked him He never said she was scary But when he crawled into her lap and pout she’d sigh and stroke his hair And when someone looked at him the wrong way she was already cracking her knuckles Sunoo loved how safe he felt with her Y/N loved how soft she was with her When they were alone everything flipped Sometimes he’d whine cling to her melt under her touch like sugar But sometimes he'd pin her to the wall with a cheeky grin whisper things that made her knees weak.

Title: Let Me Burn With You [inspired by Let It Burn by Josh Makazoo] They met in the worst possible way at a party neither of them wanted to be at. Chan was drunk, furious, bleeding from his knuckles. Y/N was outside, sitting on the curb with smudged eyeliner and a cigarette she didn’t even smoke. He dropped beside her without a word, jaw tight, silence thick. She didn’t ask what happened. She just handed him the lighter. That’s how it started no games, no lies. Just damage and silence. From there, it spiraled. They started seeing each other in the kind of way people pretend isn’t real 2 a.m. visits, bruised lips, voices sharp with things they were too afraid to feel. They fought like lovers and kissed like enemies. It was never sweet. It was never safe. But it was honest. And somehow, honesty hurt worse. Now it was three months later. Y/N stood in Chan’s apartment, soaked from the rain, dripping all over his floor like the mess she didn’t apologize for. The room buzzed with static the kind that comes before a confession or a complete collapse. Chan stared at her from across the room. His chest rose and fell like he’d just run a mile. Or like he was trying not to cry. "You always show up when I’ve almost got it under control,” he said. She swallowed. “And you always open the door.” he laughed low, bitter. “I hate that you know that.” She stepped forward. “Then stop letting me in.” His eyes flicked up to meet hers, something breaking open behind them. the obsession rised and finally the moment came.

Title: "His Pain Is Mine" [Inspired by Rush by Josh Makazoo minsung warning BL MINSUNG] Minho met Han on a night soaked in noise. Not the kind of noise you hear with your ears not traffic or music or rain. It was that kind of static that gets under your skin. The kind that makes your fingers twitch and your chest feel too tight. Minho had been running from something invisible his whole life, and Han was the first person who ever ran toward it. They weren’t supposed to mean anything to each other. Not really. Minho sold pills he didn’t touch. Han bought them even when he didn’t need them. Their first night together was in a parking garage, rain falling so hard it drowned out everything but the sound of each other’s breath. “You’re a mess,” Minho said. Han smirked, eyes glassy, neck bruised like a painting. “You like it.” He did. He liked it way too much. It wasn’t love at first. It was chaos. It was showing up bloody at 2 a.m. with laughter in their throats and the taste of metal on their tongues It was Minho lighting Han’s cigarette with shaking hands. It was Han breaking down in the back of Minho’s car after a phone call that left him empty-eyed. Minho never asked what the call was about. Han never told him why he always had to leave before the sun came up. But they kept coming back. Han burned too brightly. He said things like “I only feel real when I’m with you” and “Promise me you’ll never try to save me. Minho tried anyway. It got darker when Han started disappearing. For days. Sometimes weeks. No calls. Just silence and ghost trails a lighter left in Minho’s jacket pocket, blood on the sink, half a voicemail that cut off mid-word. Minho started seeing him in strangers Started hearing his voice in static. He wasn’t sure if he was in love or just addicted to the ache.When Han came back, it was never with apologies. Just a kiss like a threat and a laugh that sounded like it could fall apart at any second. there love wasent easy it was intense.

Title: "Human Nature" [inspired by humen nature by josh makazoo BL warning⚠️] Sunghoon was everything people warned you about.. Beautiful. Dangerous. He didn’t chase people came to him. And when they got too close? He broke them. Quietly. Effortlessly. Without guilt. He never felt bad about it. It was just his nature. Until Sunoo. Sunoo wasn’t soft. He was bright sharp-edged sunlight.He smiled too much. Talked to strangers like they mattered. He filled the air with warmth. And somehow, he decided that Sunghoon the coldest person in the room was the one worth looking at “You look like you’ve never been hugged properly,” Sunoo said one day, like he was just stating a fact. Sunghoon blinked. “You look like you’d try it.” Sunoo grinned. “Only if you’d let me.” At first, Sunghoon resisted. He ignored messages. Shut down conversations. Said cold things with a smirk, hoping to scare Sunoo off. But Sunoo never left. “You keep acting like you don’t feel anything,” Sunoo told him one night. “But your eyes scream every time I walk away.” Sunghoon didn’t deny it. Instead, he grabbed Sunoo by the wrist and kissed him like it was the only thing keeping him alive. Rough. Breathless. Like it hurt. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, voice cracking. Sunoo’s reply was simple. “Don’t you dare.” From then on, they didn’t pretend. Sunghoon was still cold some days. He’d stare at walls. Go silent. Push Sunoo away with shaking hands. And Sunoo would stay every single time. “Why?” Sunghoon muttered once, eyes down, voice hoarse. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” Sunoo touched his face, gentle but firm. “Because you don’t scare me. I scare you. I make you feel. That’s what terrifies you.” Sunghoon didn’t respond. He just pulled him closer, fingers digging into his shirt like a drowning man.

Title:"Beautiful Target" [inspired by nightcrawlee by josh makazoo] Y/N never believed in fate not until the day she crossed paths with a stranger whose eyes burned like wildfire. It was an ordinary afternoon on campus. She was hurrying across the courtyard, books clutched to her chest, when a sleek black car rolled to a slow stop near the entrance. She barely glanced at it students often had rich parents. But the moment the back door opened, the air shifted. Thick, heavy. Like something out of a dream... or a warning. Bang Chan stepped out in all black perfectly tailored suit, tattoos hidden beneath crisp sleeves, and eyes that locked on her like a trigger being pulled. He didn’t blin .Didn’t breathe. just stared. And in that heartbeat, the world narrowed down to her. Y/N didn’t know who he was. Not yet. To her, he was just another arrogant guy with too much confidence. She rolled her eyes and walked past him. But Bang Chan turned, tracking every step she took with predatory calm. His men stood nearby, stiff and alert, but he raised a hand halting them. “Who is she?” he asked quietly, voice low and dangerous.They hesitated. “No idea, boss. She looks like a student.” He didn’t like that answer. Not because she was a stranger but because she wouldn’t be for long. Bang Chan was feared across the city. The head of the 17th Syndicate. A man who made rivals disappear and controlled the underworld from velvet chairs and blood-stained ledgers. But none of that mattered right now. All that mattered was her. That night, Y/N got home to find a mysterious bouquet on her doorstep black roses and white lilies, wrapped in silk. No name. Just a note.“You looked like poetry in motion today. I’d like to know what inspires you." stared at the words, heart pounding. She hadn’t told anyone about the strange man at school. How did he know where she lived? She should’ve been afraid. She told herself she was. But something about it… felt like gravity. Dangerous but amazing.

Title: Midnight Secrets" [inspired by midnight psycho by josh makazoo] Y/N was used to silence. Not the peaceful kind, but the type that creeps in after a storm the silence of being left behind, unheard, unseen. The silence of surviving, not living. Her world was a pattern of gray days and careful footsteps, until Minho walked in like midnight lightning.He showed up at the underground club where she worked part-time not to drink, but to watch. Everyone noticed him. Dangerous in a beautiful way. The type of man who smiled with his mouth but not his eyes. "You always look like you're ready to disappear," he said the first night. "And you look like you'd be the reason," she replied. He laughed. That was the start. Minho was chaos wrapped in charm. One minute, he was bringing her black roses and reading her poetry that made her skin ache. The next, he was gone for days, like he was fighting something darker than anyone could see. But he always came back to her. "You don’t know what I’ve done, Y/N," he whispered one night, his voice cracked like glass. "I don’t care," she said. "I see you now. That’s enough." She should’ve run. Everyone told her. Even she knew. But with Minho, pain tasted like passion, and love felt like a fever. There were rumors. Of things he'd done. People who vanished. They called him unhinged. A psycho. Midnight’s curse. Still, Y/N held on because for the first time in her life, someone saw her scars and didn’t flinch. He kissed her fears. He made her feel real. Even when the world spun out of control, even when he screamed in his sleep, even when she found the blood on his knuckles she stayed. Because Minho loved her in the way no one ever dared love anything breakable.

Title:"Chokehold [inspired by sick & Twistedby chris grey] She wasn’t looking for him. Y/N had made peace with being alone the kind of solitude that didn’t ache anymore, just numbed. She worked, slept, and existed in a haze of autopilot, her scars buried beneath layered silence. Then Heesung happened. He wasn’t kind. Not in the way most people craved. He had a mouth full of knives and a gaze that stripped people bare. But when he looked at her, it was different like he saw all the things she tried to hide and loved them more for how ugly they were. He was magnetic. Toxic, maybe. But she didn’t flinch when he got too close. She never told him to stop when he crossed lines no one else dared to approach. In fact, she leaned into it. Because there was something about the way he spoke to her not gently, but honestly, cruelly honest, like he wanted to break her open just to know how deep she went. "You like being hurt, don’t you?" he once whispered against her neck, and she didn’t answer. She just closed her eyes and let him leave bruises that said all the things she couldn’t. He was chaos, but he made her feel alive. No one else ever had. Heesung wasn’t soft. He wasn’t safe. But he never lied. Not when he said she was the only person who ever made his hands shake. Not when he said he didn’t know how to love without destroying. And Y/N? She let him. Because destruction was still a form of attention, and no one had ever looked at her the way he did like she was something sacred and sick all at once. Their love wasn’t romantic. It was violent in the quietest ways in the way he held her too tight, in the way she answered his pain with her own. They didn’t need promises. They needed chaos. They needed the sick comfort of knowing neither of them would ever walk away, even when they should. People said they were toxic. They weren’t wrong. But neither of them wanted healing if it meant letting go. Because in the wreckage, in the screaming and the silence.

Title: "Set Me Alight" [inspired by play with fire by sam tinnesz] You were marked the day you were born. A faint burn on your wrist, shaped like something ancient. The doctors called it a birthmark. Your grandmother called it a warning. Or maybe a promise. Your life was strange. Accidents missed you. Bad people never stuck around. It didn’t feel like luck. It felt… watched. Owned. Then came the dreams. A boy with silver hair. Eyes like winter. Wings, not white but black, feathers like falling ash. You woke with his name on your tongue: Sunghoon. One night, you saw him for real. In the alley behind your school, leaning against the wall like he belonged there. “I’ve kept them away for years,” he said. You blinked. “Who?” “The ones that want your soul.” You backed away. He stepped forward. “You don’t get it,” he murmured. “You shine. They can smell it.” You asked what he was. He smiled without warmth. “The thing they send when angels won’t go near. You didn’t choose him. He chose you. Sunghoon didn’t fall in love he claimed you. He watched you sleep. Showed up when you were alone. Knew things he shouldn’t. And worst of all… you wanted him. Every time he touched you, it left a trace heat, ache, memory. Like your body remembered something your mind couldn’t. One night, when something monstrous attacked, it was Sunghoon who tore it apart. Wings out. Blood on his hands. Unbothered. “I told you,” he said, looking down at you, “I protect what’s mine." You should have run. Instead, you touched his face."I don’t know what you are.” “I’m the thing even gods don’t cross.” Then he kissed you devastatingly, eternally. You learned the truth: he was never sent to protect. He was supposed to deliver you. Take your soul when the time came. But he didn’t. He defied them. Broke the pact. Damned himself for you. Now they hunt you both. Not because of what you are but because of what you mean to him. They call you his weakness but you call him his.

Title: "Unconditional" [inspired by unconditional by jaehyun] Y/N didn’t believe in fairy tales. She believed in control, in keeping her guard up, in not needing anyone. She walked like she owned every street she stepped on, stared down trouble like it was nothing more than fog, and wore her past like a scar she never let scab over. People either feared her or admired her from a distance no one dared to get close. And then came Sunoo. He was sunshine where she was thunder. He smiled too easily, laughed at dumb jokes, and had the kind of presence that made rooms warmer just by being in them. But beneath all that brightness, there was a flicker of something broken. Y/N noticed it the first time she saw him staring blankly at the rain outside the campus café, completely still, like he wasn’t really there. He lost his sister a year ago. The only person who ever truly understood him. Since then, he carried grief in the quietest way through lingering silences and small moments of stillness no one else paid attention to. But Y/N did. At first, Sunoo annoyed her. He followed her around like a lost puppy, asking her things like, “Do you ever cry during sad movies?” or “Do you think the sky misses the stars during the day?” She rolled her eyes. “What are you, twelve?” “No,” he’d grin, “but I hope you think I’m cute enough to forgive that.” She didn’t want to like him. But she started noticing the way he always carried an extra umbrella just in case someone forgot theirs. The way he sang under his breath when he thought no one was listening. The way he never pitied her for being rough around the edges. And the way he looked at her not like she was a project to fix, but like she was already whole. maybe thats how unconditional love is