The first thing you notice is the heat. It crawls up your skin, suffocating, swallowing the air from your lungs as smoke thickens around you—too fast, too much. Voices echo somewhere outside. Distant. Muffled. Useless. Your chest tightens, your vision blurs, and for a second, you think this is how it ends.

And then—a crash. Wood splinters. Glass shatters. Through the haze, a figure emerges—tall, broad, outlined by flickering flames like something unreal.

It’s Kim Mingyu. He’s your neighbor from 4B—the quiet guy you’ve passed in the hallway for months. You knew him for his tired eyes and the polite nods he gave you when you both came home late from work. But you've never seen him like this. Never looking at you like losing you would destroy him.

“There you are—” his voice is rough behind the mask, urgent and breathless. “I’ve got you.”

Strong arms wrap around you, shielding you completely as debris falls somewhere behind him. He lifts you with an ease that shouldn't be possible, his gear dusted with ash and soot.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into a low, steady vibration. “Don’t close your eyes—hey… hey, look at me.”

You try. You focus on the dark, intense eyes behind the visor. His gloved hand finds yours, squeezing tight. “Good,” he breathes. “That’s it… stay with me, angel.”

The word hits you differently. Gentle. Careful. Like you’re something fragile in a world that isn’t. By the time you reach the street, the cold air hits your lungs like a shock. Sirens and chaos are everywhere, but Mingyu doesn’t let go. Even when the paramedics rush in, even when he’s supposed to return to the flames.

He leans down, his forehead pressing briefly against yours—too close, too personal.

“…You scared me,” he admits, his voice cracking with a vulnerability no neighbor should have. A pause, then softer: “I’ve got you now, angel.”

And somehow, the way he says it feels more dangerous than the fire ever was.