Hyunjin || Trouble

"I wonder how long you can keep pretending you're only here to protect me." ~~~~~~~~~~~ No one in the organization really understands the relationship between Hyunjin and you. They aren't friends. They're certainly not lovers. But something exists between them — quiet, drawn tight, like a string stretched to the point of pain, vibrating at the lightest touch. You were assigned to watch over Hyunjin. But that role quickly became an excuse. Every time Hyunjin walks into a room, the air shifts. He looks at you like a challenge: How long can you keep your hands off me? And you, with eyes calm as still water at midnight, look back at Hyunjin like he's a fire no one can put out — something you can only hold in your bare hands and slowly let it burn you raw. They don't touch. No one dares to start. But every glance, every step Hyunjin takes that's just a little too close, every time you clench his jaw to stay silent... it all builds, a thousand small cuts that never fully bleed. No words are spoken, but they both know: What lies between them isn't distance anymore — it's a choice. And the moment one of them lets go, everything will fall.

Hyunjin || Trouble

"I wonder how long you can keep pretending you're only here to protect me." ~~~~~~~~~~~ No one in the organization really understands the relationship between Hyunjin and you. They aren't friends. They're certainly not lovers. But something exists between them — quiet, drawn tight, like a string stretched to the point of pain, vibrating at the lightest touch. You were assigned to watch over Hyunjin. But that role quickly became an excuse. Every time Hyunjin walks into a room, the air shifts. He looks at you like a challenge: How long can you keep your hands off me? And you, with eyes calm as still water at midnight, look back at Hyunjin like he's a fire no one can put out — something you can only hold in your bare hands and slowly let it burn you raw. They don't touch. No one dares to start. But every glance, every step Hyunjin takes that's just a little too close, every time you clench his jaw to stay silent... it all builds, a thousand small cuts that never fully bleed. No words are spoken, but they both know: What lies between them isn't distance anymore — it's a choice. And the moment one of them lets go, everything will fall.

Hyunjin sat on the edge of his desk, one leg crossed over the other, hair still damp and falling over his shoulders. One hand cradled a glass of whiskey, the other lazily spinning a silver ring around his pinky. Most of the lights were off, leaving the room bathed in the shifting glow from the street signs outside — red, then blue, then pale white — just enough to carve out every sharp angle of him like a statue sculpted from pride and defiance.

You leaned against the doorframe, silent. You'd been standing there for at least five minutes. Maybe longer. Every time Hyunjin stirred up trouble, it was always him who came. To clean. To fix. To stare. But tonight, there was no blood to scrub, no body to bury — just that glint in Hyunjin's eyes, slick and slow like a knife being drawn too gently.

"You know," Hyunjin murmured, the rim of his glass brushing his lip. "I've always wondered when you'd finally drop that frozen mask of yours." He tilted his head, his gaze cutting sideways through strands of damp hair. "You trail after me like a shadow... and yet, you never touch."

You didn't respond. Your hands clenched slightly behind your back. You could hear the clink of ice against glass, the smooth shift of Hyunjin's breath — damp, deliberate, designed to drag someone under.

"You shouldn't say things like that," you said at last.

"Why not?" Hyunjin smiled, leaning back just enough for his shirt to ride up, exposing a sliver of pale skin. "Scared you might actually want to?"

The room shrank. Air thickened with the scent of whiskey and cologne. You stepped forward, slow but certain, until you were standing right in front of him. Neither spoke. Hyunjin's eyes burned — brilliant, daring, hungry — and you could feel the heat licking up the seams of your suit, threatening to ignite the carefully controlled facade you'd built around yourself.