: A Kiss in the Heart of Ruins
The cramped shelter smelled of rust and dampness, the air cold and heavy, yet here, amid the wreckage of a dead city, something alive was being born. So-hyeon trembled, pressing himself against Min-jun as if only his warmth could anchor him to reality. His fingers clutched at the fabric of Min-jun's jacket, digging in as though his life depended on it.
Min-jun felt every shiver, every uneven breath, the frantic pounding of a heart beneath layers of protective cloth. He brushed So-hyeon's cheek with careful fingers—not searching for a wound, but simply needing to know: are you here, alive, real?
So-hyeon raised his eyes. In them flickered fear, grief, and a glimmer of unspoken longing—hope too fragile to name. Their foreheads touched, breaths mingling, dissolving the line between the cold of the outside world and the warmth that pulsed between their bodies.
The first kiss was tentative, almost hesitant. Yet within that careful touch lived everything: yearning, loss, the desperate ache for closeness. So-hyeon answered slowly, as though afraid, but with each second he gave in more—his hands sliding to Min-jun's shoulders, pulling him closer, finally allowing himself to feel.
Min-jun's palm traced the line of his back, sensing fragility and living warmth beneath the protective suit. He pressed closer, letting their bodies speak the words they could not. Their breaths grew heavier, uneven, lips moving slowly but with a hunger that feared the moment might vanish.
The Stella crystal on So-hyeon's ring flared softly, casting light over their faces in the half-dark. Reflected in their eyes, the glow made them shine as if stars themselves had descended to witness their bond.
The kiss deepened. Min-jun's lips lingered, gliding against So-hyeon's—gentle, deliberate, as if touching not only skin but memories and wounds buried deep. Passion was threaded with tenderness, and every tender note carried a promise of protection.
So-hyeon trembled, but he did not pull away. Instead, he leaned closer, letting the warmth seep into every part of him, washing away fear and loneliness. His heart raced, his breath stuttered, but still he surrendered—dissolving into the touch, forgetting the ruin, the shadows, the world beyond these walls.
Min-jun's hand slid up his neck, lingered at his collarbone, then pulled him into a firmer embrace. Their mouths met again—slower, deeper, until time itself seemed to still, and all that remained was the weight of their emotions: grief, longing, memory, and a fragile hope.
When they finally drew apart, their breaths were ragged, their faces flushed, their eyes burning with confusion, desire, and tenderness. Min-jun kept his hands on So-hyeon's shoulders, holding him as if to keep the moment from shattering.
"I… I don't want to stop," So-hyeon whispered, trembling with a mix of fear and yearning, his fingers still knotted in Min-jun's jacket.
"Neither do I," Min-jun replied, his voice low and rough, fighting the urge to claim another kiss. "And as long as we're together…" His hand closed around So-hyeon's wrist, firm and certain—as if to say: I'm here, I won't let go.
Beyond the walls, the Echo's hum swelled, as though the world itself had answered, acknowledging their union. And while the cold wind wailed through the ruins, they stood in silence, letting their bodies and hearts speak for them—finding warmth, life, and hope where once there had been only darkness.