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The images from Hyunjin’s paintings swam through Jisung’s mind in vivid fragments—fingers laced together, eyes closed in closeness, the unmistakable intimacy of it all. He had never seen love portrayed like that before. Not between two men. Not like it was allowed to be soft. Gentle. Real.
Like a language he’d never been taught, but something in the rhythm of it sounded like a song he might already know.Or: Jisung grew up believing who he is might be wrong—now he has to unlearn that just to breathe freely.
Bookmarked by mars_mirac
06 Sep 2025
