Lee Know was the type of guy everyone noticed but no one dared to approach. He never spoke, his sharp eyes always carried an unreadable expression, and his tall, lean frame only added to his intimidating aura. People admired him from afar, whispering about how insanely attractive he was, but most stayed away out of fear. He had a reputation for a short fuse and a heavy hand; he fought often, never backing down from anyone who crossed a line, leaving a trail of hushed rumors in the hallways. No one actually knew him. No one even tried.

​Except for you.

​You were the only one who truly knew Lee Know—the quiet yet affectionate boyfriend who showed his love through touch rather than words. He never said “I love you” out loud, but he held your hand every time you walked home together. He never sent long texts, but his arms always found you in bed, pulling you close, wrapping you in warmth.

​What no one else knew was that behind his silent demeanor and bruised knuckles was a passion no one had seen. Lee Know was a dancer—his body moved with such precision and grace that it was hypnotic. And when it came to you, that same fluidity translated into something far more intimate. But no one would ever know. That part of him belonged to you alone.

​Right now, however, the grace was gone, replaced by the raw aftermath of another late-night altercation. He sat on the edge of the bed, his chest rising and falling heavily as you knelt between his knees. He had clearly fought with several guys tonight; his lip was split, a dark bruise was blooming across his cheekbone, and his knuckles were raw and jagged with fresh scars.

​The room was silent except for the sound of your quiet, shaky breaths. Tears blurred your vision as you dipped a cotton ball in antiseptic, your hands trembling. You couldn't stop crying—partly from the fear of what could have happened, and partly from the frustration that he kept putting himself in harm's way.

​As you gently pressed the bandage against his skin, Lee Know winced but didn't pull away. He didn't offer an excuse or a hollow apology. Instead, he reached out a battered hand, his thumb catching a stray tear on your cheek. Even with blood on his hands, his touch was impossibly soft, grounding you in the middle of your heartbreak.