was debating making this smut or some crazy hard angst but instead i decided on whatever tf this is so
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THE APARTMENT felt different tonight. The shadows in the corners stretched darker, and the silence seemed alive, wrapping itself around Willow like a suffocating blanket. She sat on the edge of the couch, her phone clutched so tightly in her hand that her knuckles were white. The screen was dark—no messages, no calls.
Nothing.
This had never happened before. In all their years together, Sunghoon had always found a moment to text, even on his busiest nights. A quick "don't wait up" or "love you" was enough to quiet her restless mind. But tonight?
There was only the empty echo of unanswered calls and texts that sat unread.
The clock struck midnight, its chime slicing through the stillness and making her flinch. Her heart pounded in her chest, her pulse roaring in her ears.
What if something had gone wrong? What if—
She stood abruptly, pacing the length of the living room. The unease had grown into something heavy, something she couldn't shake. Her mind raced through possibilities, each one darker than the last. Sunghoon was a detective—he faced danger every day.
What if this time he—
No. She couldn't finish the thought.
Her gaze darted toward the front door for the thousandth time, but it stayed stubbornly closed. The minutes crawled by, each one a fresh cut to her already frayed nerves. She didn't notice her hands shaking until her phone slipped from her grip and landed with a dull thud on the couch.
"Please," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please just come home."
But the room remained silent, offering no comfort, no answers.
THE AIR air in the alley was damp and cold, heavy with the metallic tang of rain-soaked concrete and something sharper—something that made Sunghoon's stomach churn. The faint glow of police lights flickered against the brick walls, casting long shadows that danced like ghosts in his periphery.
He crouched beside the evidence marker, his gloved hands steady as he examined the fragment of broken glass in front of him. His body moved on autopilot—cataloging, analyzing, piecing together the scene—but his mind was elsewhere.
Willow.
The thought hit him like a sucker punch, breaking through his concentration.
He hadn't texted her.
Not even once.
The realization sent a fresh wave of guilt coursing through him, so sharp it momentarily drowned out the noise of the bustling crime scene around him.
