The best thing about Joel Price being such ahotshotrockstar?
He has to leave sometime.
And tonight?Tonight is blissfully Joel-free.
No humming.No guitar.No frustratingly loud presence lingering in my space, waiting to get under my skin.
Which means tonight is just me, my couch, and an uninterrupted night of my favorite K-drama.
I stretch out, arms wide, luxuriating in the freedom of it all.
Finally.
Finally, I get one damn night without his voice in my ears, without the constant reminder that he exists too close, too often.It might only be a few days since he invaded, but it feels like years at this point.
I exhale, letting my body sink deeper into the cushions.This is exactly what I need.A night of soft blankets, takeout, and brain-melting romance with an emotionally unavailable male lead whoisn’tJoel Price.
I hit play on the next episode and grab my takeout box to settle in.
The music swells, dramatic and sweeping, pulling me in even though I knowexactlyhow this scene will go.
The hero is standing on the edge of a city sidewalk, his knuckles white around a crumpled letter, his jaw tight like he’s trying to swallow a thousand things he should have said.He watches her walk away, shoulders stiff, not looking back, even though we know she wants to.
I dig into my takeout container, swirling noodles around my chopsticks without looking away from the screen.
God, I love this shit.
The camera cuts to his expression—the heartbreak in his eyes, the devastation, the quiet plea he won’t say aloud.He shifts forward, like he might run after her, like he wants to so badly he’s physically stopping himself.
I let out a small huff through my nose.“Just go after her, dumbass.”
Of course, he doesn’t.That’s not how these scenes work.
Instead, it starts to rain.
Classic.
Fat droplets hitting the pavement, soaking through his jacket, his hair.He doesn’t move.He just stands there, watching her disappear into the night, drowning in his own silence.
I scoop up another bite of noodles, chewing slowly as I watch him suffer.
Ugh.So angsty.So dramatic.I love it.
The heroine stops.
Not fully—just a pause in her step, like something tugged her back for half a second.She doesn’t turn, doesn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her face.
But it’s enough.
Enough to let him know she feels it too.
I shift slightly, twirling my chopsticks against the rim of the container.
It’s stupid.Just a TV show.
Except—
Except the way he looks at her—like he’s waiting for her to turn around, like he needs her to but can’t ask her to?—