──── Yoon Dong-ju x oc! Female Reader.
❝ NOT EVERY PUNCH BRUISES. SOME JUST BREAK OPEN A HEART. ❞
↳ In which Two fighters teamed, a wild, messy start, Minji with kicks and a guarded heart. Dongju packs a hell of a punch, wears his feelings like go...
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CHAPTER 20 Routine Interruptions. 𖥔
The bathroom was drenched in steam. Soft golden light filtered through the frosted window, illuminating the haze curling around Minji's bare shoulders as water poured in slow, steady rivulets down her back. Her fingers were pressed to the pale tile wall, head tilted forward beneath the warm downpour. The heat seeped into her muscles, loosening tension she hadn't realized she carried—tension born from long nights, near-death missions, and feelings she couldn't name.
Everything felt quiet. Weightless. She breathed in the silence until—
A shift. She stilled. The sound of the door handle. Then footsteps—bare, careful.
She turned her head, only slightly, peeking through wet strands of hair as the figure emerged behind the fogged glass of the shower door.
Dongju.
He said nothing. Just stood there, gaze dark and unreadable, lips parted slightly like he wanted to speak but couldn't find the words.
Her pulse quickened. Her voice caught.
"Wh—what are you doing?" she asked, but the words came out hushed, strangled, like her mind didn't even believe they were real.
Dongju stepped forward, his white T-shirt clinging to him, soaked from the humidity. He slowly pulled it off with one hand, revealing the toned ridges of his chest, water already collecting in the dip of his collarbone. His sweats were damp around the hems—he'd walked through the mist like he belonged there.
"I kept hearing the water," he said, voice quiet, rough around the edges. "Didn't know if you'd slipped. Thought you might need help."
Minji's back hit the cold tile. Help? That word had no meaning now.
She swallowed hard, unable to look away.
He reached out—fingertips ghosting against her forearm, following a bead of water downward.
"You're shaking," he said.
"No I'm not," she whispered.
But she was. Shaking. Blushing. Burning. He moved closer.
Close enough that the water from her body dripped onto his chest, close enough that his breath warmed her cheek, close enough that every reason to back away crumbled in her mind.
Minji's hand lifted—hesitant, trembling—brushing against the line of his jaw.
And then his lips were inches from hers. "I don't know what this is," she breathed.
"I don't either," he murmured back. "But I'm not walking away."
