the story of hizqeel

Hizqeel never believed in fate—until he met Daniel Park.

It started one rainy evening after school. Hizqeel, late for the bus, stood under a flickering streetlight, soaked and frustrated. That’s when Daniel appeared, holding an umbrella, a quiet smirk tugging at his lips. “You look like a sad cat,” Daniel joked, holding out the umbrella. Hizqeel took it with a soft thank you, not realizing that single gesture would change everything.

They started talking more—first at the bus stop, then over coffee, then during long walks through the city at night. Daniel was blunt, protective, and kind in a way that made Hizqeel feel seen for the first time in years. Hizqeel, with his quiet strength and sharp wit, challenged Daniel in all the right ways.

One evening, as the sun dipped behind the skyline, Daniel finally said, “I don’t want to just be your friend.”

Hizqeel blinked, caught off guard. “Then what do you want to be?”

Daniel reached out, lacing their fingers together. “Yours.”

And under that same streetlight where they first met, Hizqeel leaned in, heart racing, and whispered, “Then you already are.”

The rain never came that night—just stars and the start of something real.