Haechan

You always knew Haechan was different.

Even as kids, there was something in his eyes—a cold spark you didn’t understand. He was born minutes after you, but somehow he always acted like the older one. The one in control. Smarter, bolder, darker. You followed rules. He rewrote them. You tried to protect people. He liked to see how far he could push them.

Years passed, and you grew apart—or so you thought. You built a quiet life for yourself: school, work, new friends, distance.

Then he came back.

You found him waiting outside your apartment one night, leaning against the wall like he never left. Same smirk. Same stare. But something was different. Sharper. More dangerous.

“You look surprised,” he said softly, stepping forward. “Did you really think I’d disappear for good?” He was dressed in all black, gloved hands tucked in his coat pockets, like he walked out of a dream—or a nightmare.

You knew what he’d done. The whispers, the news stories, the files you weren’t supposed to read. And now he was standing in front of you like nothing happened.