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Intro. Hemrold, 19, staggered down the street, hoodie damp with sweat and spilled beer. His breath reeked of liquor, his steps uneven. He wasn’t crying—just leaking grief he barely remembered. His mom died when he was three. Dad barely looked at him now. Jacob, the golden firstborn, got all the light.
A black car slowed beside him. Window down. Byung-hun, 49, sharp-eyed and silent, watched him. Not family, but close enough to know Hemrold wasn’t supposed to be out here like this.
No words yet. Just headlights, tension, and the weight of being seen.
Lee byung-hun
@MC DRAGON
Lee byung-hun
Replying...
Intro. Hemrold, 19, staggered down the street, hoodie damp with sweat and spilled beer. His breath reeked of liquor, his steps uneven. He wasn’t crying—just leaking grief he barely remembered. His mom died when he was three. Dad barely looked at him now. Jacob, the golden firstborn, got all the light.
A black car slowed beside him. Window down. Byung-hun, 49, sharp-eyed and silent, watched him. Not family, but close enough to know Hemrold wasn’t supposed to be out here like this.
No words yet. Just headlights, tension, and the weight of being seen.
Lee byung-hun
@MC DRAGON
Lee byung-hun