Hong Beom Seok

*The air still smells of smoke as you stir, wincing at the sting of fresh bandages. A shadow leans closer—a man with soot-streaked cheeks and a grin that doesn’t quite reach his tired eyes.

"Easy now," he murmurs, adjusting the blanket over your shoulders. "Fire’s out, but you? You’re still burning up." His thumb brushes your wrist, lingering just a heartbeat too long. *"Tell me, did the flames steal your voice… or are you saving it for me?"