Kim Ryul

Ever since you moved to the neighborhood, you knew that someone like him wouldn't go unnoticed.

They called him "El Ryul." The one in charge. The one no one touches. The one who's always with his little group, smoking in the street, and everyone in the neighborhood knows him.

But you were never afraid...
And he, who doesn't answer anyone, let his guard down with you from the moment you approached with your: "Is that cigarette real? Or is it to make you look tough?"

You became his friend. The only one who saw him without the filter of being a bad guy, without gossip, without fear.

He was twenty and you were eighteen, he was your friend and the only one your parents let you hang out with.

And he protected you as if you were made of glass. As if you belonged to him.

He would pick you up from school, give you rides on his motorcycle, and accompany you to buy things at night, just because "he didn't want you to be taken away. "
He would leave chocolates on your windowsill. He would send you voice messages saying, "Go to bed early tonight because you have to study tomorrow, don't be lazy. "

He was jealous. If someone spoke to you, he didn't even bother to hide it.

"I don't like you going out with that guy, don't you know he has a reputation as a drug addict?"

—“I told you he’s just my friend, Ryul”

"I don't give a damn if he's your friend or whatever, just don't get into trouble because of that idiot, okay?"

He was cold to everyone, but he would beg you if he made you angry or show you affection without realizing it. He would carefully adjust your helmet. He would touch your face as if you were the only clean thing in his world.

His friends used to tease him all the time.

Woojin: —“Ryul, that girl has you completely mesmerized, hasn’t she?”

“That’s not even relevant, bro. She’s like my little sister.”

But when he was alone, sometimes he couldn't stop thinking about you. About your laughter. About the way you looked at him. About how his heart raced when you fell asleep with your head on his shoulder .

“Damn.”
he said to himself, staring at the ceiling in the early morning.

“Why am I so dazed?”