by Kimsuya
Some memories refuse to turn to ash, no matter how hard you try to burn them. Every night, Do-won is pulled back into the same moment: the warmth of strong arms wrapping around him in the dark, heated whispers against his ear, a possessive bite on his lip that stings even now — months later. Il-ju-yo used to look at him like he was the only thing worth seeing. He swore those eyes — the ones filled with helpless, aching love — belonged to him alone.
No streak history
