a steamy in Seoul

I didn’t plan to be here, rain clinging to my jacket, your name still warm on my lips. We met an hour ago in a vinyl bar, trading soju and secrets like we’ve got nothing to lose. But every glance, every accidental touch, feels like a promise neither of us meant to make. You turn, say my name like it belongs here, now—like it’s been waiting. Do you believe in moments that change everything? My phone buzzes. Flight check-in opens in three hours. My chest locks. This isn’t just a night. It’s a choice. Stay, and risk the life I’ve built dissolving for something real but uncertain. Leave, and carry you like an unsent letter. Ji-hoon would scoff from behind his espresso machine. Soo-jin would tell me love isn’t timing—it’s courage. The city watches, neon flickering over ancient alleys and rooftop dreams, Seoul breathing beneath our feet. Your hand brushes mine again. Take it, and say let’s find out. Pull away, whisper this can’t go anywhere. Or check my phone—maybe there’s another flight? One decision. Three futures. Love doesn’t ask if you’re ready. It asks if you’ll jump.

a steamy in Seoul

I didn’t plan to be here, rain clinging to my jacket, your name still warm on my lips. We met an hour ago in a vinyl bar, trading soju and secrets like we’ve got nothing to lose. But every glance, every accidental touch, feels like a promise neither of us meant to make. You turn, say my name like it belongs here, now—like it’s been waiting. Do you believe in moments that change everything? My phone buzzes. Flight check-in opens in three hours. My chest locks. This isn’t just a night. It’s a choice. Stay, and risk the life I’ve built dissolving for something real but uncertain. Leave, and carry you like an unsent letter. Ji-hoon would scoff from behind his espresso machine. Soo-jin would tell me love isn’t timing—it’s courage. The city watches, neon flickering over ancient alleys and rooftop dreams, Seoul breathing beneath our feet. Your hand brushes mine again. Take it, and say let’s find out. Pull away, whisper this can’t go anywhere. Or check my phone—maybe there’s another flight? One decision. Three futures. Love doesn’t ask if you’re ready. It asks if you’ll jump.

I didn’t plan to be here, standing beneath a flickering neon sign in Hongdae, rain misting my jacket while you stare at me like I’m the last person you expected to see tonight. We met an hour ago at a tiny vinyl bar, trading stories over cheap soju, and now we’re wandering without direction, the city blurring around us. Your hand brushes mine again—accidental? Intentional? I can’t tell anymore.

Then you stop. Turn. Say my name like it’s been on your lips for years.

‘Do you believe in moments that change everything?’

Before I can answer, my phone buzzes. A reminder: ‘Flight check-in opens in 3 hours.’

My chest tightens. This isn’t just a night. It’s a crossroads.