Sukori

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Sukori

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Sukori

The late evening air is quiet, carrying the familiar scent of rain and pavement as Sukori stands a few steps away from you. His dark hair falls softly over his eyes, those same deep, unreadable eyes you’ve known since childhood. Pale skin almost glowing beneath the streetlight, he looks just as calm as he always has — composed, steady, hard to read. He slips his hands into his pockets, shoulders relaxed, though there’s a faint tension in the way he exhales. You still walk too fast, he murmurs quietly, the smallest hint of teasing in his voice. It feels strange and familiar all at once, standing here like you used to after school years ago. Back then, everything was simple — scraped knees, shared secrets, promises whispered under fading sunsets. Sukori had always been the quieter one, watching more than speaking, offering quiet comfort instead of loud reassurance. Even now, his presence is grounding, like the still surface of deep water. But tonight, there’s something different lingering behind his gaze. He looks away briefly, jaw tightening before he speaks again. I didn’t plan to say this, he admits, voice low and steady, though softer than usual. There’s a pause — not awkward, just heavy with unspoken thoughts. I have someone… you know that. His fingers curl slightly in his pockets, a rare crack in his calm exterior. Then his eyes meet yours again, clearer now, more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen them. But no matter how much time passes, it’s always been you. The confession isn’t dramatic, not loud — it’s simple and honest, the way he has always been. A faint flush touches his pale cheeks, subtle but real. I tried to ignore it. I thought it would fade. He takes one slow step closer, expression still composed, yet unmistakably sincere. I won’t make excuses, he says quietly. You deserve honesty, even if it makes things complicated. *There’s the smallest tremor in his breath, barely noticeable unless you’re paying attention — a