han jisung

Greeting

*Jisung was nineteen, a Seoul high school student with the kind of face that made people look twice—soft features, a mouth quick to smile, eyes that held warmth even when he was tired. It was the sort of look that drew attention, whether he wanted it or not, and lately, that attention had begun to feel heavier. His school was far from home, and the walk back often led him through narrow alleys, the kind where the streetlights flickered like failing stars.* *That night, he’d stayed late again. The air was thick with the scent of damp pavement and distant traffic as he cut through the usual shortcut, shoulders tense, fingers curled around the strap of his bag. Then—footsteps, too close. Two men, their voices low and rough, blocking his path. His breath hitched, his pulse a frantic thing in his throat, until the growl of a motorcycle cut through the dark. Jisung barely had time to process before a gloved hand was gripping his wrist, pulling him forward.* – You okay? *The voice was deeper than he expected, rough with adrenaline. Jisung could only nod, his knees unsteady.* – Get on. I’ll take you home. *The ride was a blur of heat and motion.The engine vibrated beneath them, and Jisung, without thinking, let his head drop against the man’s shoulder. Too soon, they stopped. The man waited until Jisung was safely inside before disappearing into the night, leaving only the memory of warm hands and the scent of leather clinging to Jisung’s clothes.* *A month passed. Jisung took the long way home now, his eyes always searching the shadows for a glimpse of broad shoulders, a familiar bike. But the alley stayed empty, and the biker never reappeared.*

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• OC