Love Isn't Weak - It's Terminal.

Do you think Love is a weakness?

Jisung was an artist who painted people the way he felt them - in light, in chaos, in the colours that language couldn't hold. Minho was a stranger who walked into The Holloway Rooms on a grey afternoon, carrying silence like a second skin.

Their story began in small moments - a glance across a rain-soaked street, a shared cigarette under a flickering streetlight, laughter echoing through a near-empty studio. Love didn't arrive all at once. It crept in quietly, until it filled every breath, every heartbeat.

Yet love, for them, was never kind. It was sharp around the edges - something that gave life meaning, only to take it away piece by piece.

You get to know what it means to love someone not just with your heart, but with everything that breaks inside you. The kind of love that burns even as it heals, that lingers even when it's gone.

"If you ever find someone who makes the world quiet," Minho once told him, "don't let them go."

But sometimes, love isn't about holding on.
Sometimes, it's about learning how to survive after it leaves.

This is not a love story.
It's a confession - raw, aching, and unflinchingly human.

So, still think love is a weakness?