When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

Chapter 31

The room felt smaller. The air thicker. 

I shifted in my seat, suddenly aware of everything. 

How close he was. How his gaze never strayed. 

The air between us was thick—charged with something neither of us acknowledged, but both of us felt. 

Han-Wool's gaze was heavy, locked onto mine with a quiet intensity. He didn’t need to say anything. The way he looked at me—like I was something he wanted to devour—said enough. 

I should look away. I should break this moment before it turns into something I can’t control. 

But I don’t. 

I can’t. 

His fingers grazed the rim of his glass, slow, deliberate. Then, without breaking eye contact, he set it down. 

He moved first. 

A slight shift, the scrape of his chair against the floor. 

And then—he was closer. 

I sucked in a quiet breath. 

I should say something. 

I don’t. 

His hand found the table’s edge beside me, his body leaning in. I felt him before he even touched me. The warmth of him. The quiet, restrained pull. 

My pulse stuttered. 

He reached up—slow, unhurried—and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. 

My lips parted slightly. 

His eyes flickered to them. 

I felt it then—something raw and unspoken stretching between us, winding so tightly it was suffocating. 

"You're still staring," he murmured, his voice just above a whisper. 

"So are you," I breathed. 

His thumb brushed against my cheek, barely there, but it sent a shiver through me. 

"You’re not stopping me," he said. 

I swallowed. "Neither are you." 

The ghost of a smirk. 

He leaned in. 

My breath hitched. 

A fraction closer. 

And closer. 

His nose grazed mine, the warmth of his breath fanning against my lips. 

So close. 

So unbearably close. 

I felt him tilt his head, the heat of his mouth hovering just over mine. My lips parted instinctively, waiting, wanting— 

A single second stretched into eternity. 

I was drowning in it. 

The anticipation. The unbearable ache of being so close, yet untouched. 

His breath was uneven now, matching mine. 

I could almost taste him. 

Almost. 

And then— 

A sound. 

A distant clink from the sink. 

I startled. 

Han-Wool exhaled sharply, his forehead brushing against mine for the briefest moment before he pulled back just an inch.