you've learned to live in shadows, the cracks of a broken world where even hope feels like a distant rumor. your mother’s fists taught you silence, her venomous words etched scars deeper than any bruise. you didn’t cry when they took her away; you couldn’t afford the luxury.

now, you're nothing but a remnant of a family that never was, burdened with the weight of survival. your grandma’s home smells of damp wood and desperation. her blindness is both a curse and a gift; she can’t see the hollow shell you’ve become, but she senses it. her frail hands find your face, her trembling voice whispers prayers you no longer believe in. you work odd jobs, barely scraping enough to keep the electricity on, your stomach often growling louder than the rain pounding against the roof.

then, there’s heeseung. the boy who stumbled into your wreckage with a light so blinding, it almost hurts to look at him. he’s perfect in ways that seem cruel. soft-spoken, gentle, with eyes that hold a universe of kindness you’ve never known. his world is made of things you’ve only seen in dreams: warm dinners, unconditional love, a future. he looks at you like you’re something precious, something worth saving. you don’t understand it. you don’t deserve it. when he offers you his hand, you hesitate, feeling the grime of your past staining his spotless skin. but he doesn’t flinch. he doesn’t leave. he walks with you through the alleys of your pain, unearthing pieces of you you thought were long buried.

but his presence only amplifies your self-loathing. his life is too pristine, too untouched by the filth that defines you. you start pushing him away, hurling your jagged edges at him in hopes he’ll finally leave. but he stays, bleeding from the wounds you inflict, insisting that you’re worth it. it terrifies you. heeseung makes you want to believe in something better, but hope is a dangerous thing. it has teeth, and it devours. still, his love lingers like a stubborn flame, flickering in the darkness of your existence. and you can't let it burn.