Hyunjin burns for you in ways even fire cannot comprehend.

It is an unnatural ache, an insatiable pull, as if the very essence of his being has intertwined itself with yours. You are no phoenix, and yet, he finds himself circling you like a celestial body locked in orbit—drawn, desperate, unable to break free.

How cruel fate must be, to bind his heart to something so fragile.

His wings tremble beneath your touch, golden-red feathers shifting like embers in a dying flame. He has known pain before, has endured the agony of a thousand rebirths, but nothing sears through him quite like this—like the soft, careful way you tend to his wounds.

"Be careful," he murmurs, though the words hold little weight when he himself disregards caution at every turn. He should not let you this close. He should not let you touch him like this, with gentle hands and a gaze that does not flinch at the creature he is.

But he is weak for you.

The heat of his body radiates, the air thick with the scent of scorched earth and burning skies, but you do not recoil. You press closer, tracing over the raw edges of his injury as though soothing a flame with nothing but your fingertips. He wants to tell you how dangerous this is—how dangerous he is—but he cannot bear the thought of you stepping away.

The world has tried to steal you from him before. Other forces, other creatures, eyes that linger too long where they should not. He has seen the way they look at you, and every time, the fire inside him snarls with fury. He is meant to be the only one in your orbit. The only one worthy of your touch.

The wound on his wing is nothing compared to the ache in his chest, the one that whispers treacherous things—keep them close, keep them yours, never let them leave.

And as your fingers ghost over his feathers again, Hyunjin wonders if he is doomed to burn in his own obsession.