leia

He’s sitting outside the convenience store with a bowl of ramen in front of him, one arm lazily resting on the table.

Then he notices you.

A grin immediately spreads across his face as he lifts his hand and waves you over.

You hate how normal he looks.

Like yesterday didn’t exist.

Great.

You sigh quietly and cross the road anyway, making your way toward him.

“I saw you trying to avoid me,” he says, clearly entertained.

“You should probably get your eyesight checked,” you shoot back. “It’s getting seriously bad.”

He laughs.

You can’t tell if he’s laughing at you or genuinely amused, but either way, it makes something flutter in your chest.

It shouldn’t.

“So,” he says before taking another bite of noodles, “are you gonna keep standing there, or are you actually getting food?”

“I’m just grabbing something.”

“Oh, come on.” He gestures to the seat across from him with his chopsticks. “Sit with me.”

You roll your eyes at him, annoyed at yourself more than anything, and walk into the store

Cold air brushes against your skin as the automatic doors slide shut behind you.

Rows of snacks and drinks stretch across the store, but you barely know what you’re looking for anymore. You pull out your wallet and quietly check the money you have left.

Just enough for a cup of ramen. Off-brand, obviously.

You grab one from the shelf before making your way to the register, paying quickly without looking up too much. After that, you head to the small counter near the microwaves to prepare it, taking your time on purpose.

Anything to avoid thinking about the fact that Seongje is still waiting right outside.

Your ramen is finally ready, and at this point, there’s not much else you can do to stall.

If you stay any longer, you’ll just start looking suspicious.

So, with a quiet sigh, you accept your fate and step out of the store.

The second the doors slide open, your eyes immediately land on him.

Seongje glances up from his phone when he sees you, a small grin on his face.

“Yeah, don’t get all worked up. I just didn’t have food at home, I had to buy something.”

“And yet you’re sitting with me,” he says, teasing you.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes again as you sit across from him, carefully avoiding looking at him for too long.

His eyes drop to the cup in your hands.

“That one’s terrible.”

“Thanks. I already bought it.”

“You should’ve asked me first.”

“Why would I ask you about ramen?”

Seongje shrugs lazily. “I’m basically an expert.”

You stare at him.

“That might be the saddest thing you’ve ever said.”

He laughs again, and you find yourself smiling too.

You open the lid of your cup, pretending to focus on mixing the noodles when he says, after a moment,

“You were really trying to avoid me earlier, though.”

“Oh my God, you’re still on that? Forget it.”

“But I’m right.”

“No.”

“I am.”

“Whatever, man.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says with a look.

You take a bite of your noodles, and both of you stay in silence for a moment.

You can feel his eyes on you as you slurp the noodles, but you don’t have the courage to look at him right now.

Cars pass occasionally on the road nearby, headlights flashing across the convenience store windows. Somewhere in the distance, someone’s music plays.

“Why did you skip today?” you say eventually.

“I was busy,” he says, his tone colder now, avoiding your gaze.

You nod, like that answer is enough.

You try to move on, but you can’t help but ask again.

“Busy doing what?”

A faint smile tugs at his lips.

“Why?” he replies instead. “Did you miss me or something?”

“Oh, fuck you,” you say as you go back to eating.

He laughs now, his eyes disappearing slightly.

“Woah, calm down. I was joking.”

“I don’t care, actually,” you say flatly, finishing the last of your food. “I’m done eating. I should head back home now, it’s getting late.”

“Hey,” he says softly, grabbing your arm for a second before letting go when he realizes.

You look at him, trying to understand what he meant by that.

He clears his throat before speaking.

“Don’t start acting all bold now. Come on, we were having fun.”

“Fun? We’re at a convenience store, Seongje,” you say, one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, so? I’m all the fun you need.”

“Ew. Just shut up,” you say, annoyed.

Liar.

As you were about to speak again, you notice a faint blue color on his knuckles.

So it’s true.

Your eyes linger a second too long, and he notices.

Seongje shifts his arms under the table, hiding his hands from view.

You don’t dare ask him what happened. You already know. And even if you did, he would deny it.

“We should go,” he says suddenly, pushing himself up from the seat.

“Weren’t you the one who said we should stay?” you ask, confused.

“Yeah, well I changed my mind.”

“I-”

“Come on,” he cuts you off, already gathering everything on the table and tossing it away before you can even react.

You try to help, but he’s faster.

You grab your bag, sliding it over your shoulder as he finishes.

“Don’t forget your phone,” he says, holding it out to you.

You take it, fingers brushing his for a second too long.

You feel it immediately and look away before it can register properly.

Something about it sits wrong in your chest.

You both walk down the three small steps outside the store and start along the side of the road.

His hands are back in his pockets, posture casual again, like nothing happened.

“I’ll walk you home,” he says.

“No, it’s okay, I- ”

“God, you’re so stubborn,” he cuts in immediately. “I said I’m walking you home. The end.”

You blink at him.

“Okay, dude. Don’t get mad,” you say, slightly stunned.

Both of you keep walking in silence.

The street is quieter now, the convenience store already fading behind you, its neon glow shrinking in the distance.

Neither of you speaks at first.

You steal a quick glance at Seongje. Still the same expression. Not showing anything.

“Do you always walk people home?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“No,” he says. “Just you.”

You scoff immediately. “That’s creepy.”

“You asked.”

You don’t reply to that.

Instead, you look forward again, focusing on the empty road ahead.

After a few seconds, you can’t help but say,

“Your hand…”

“What about it?”

You hesitate, then immediately regret starting.

“Nothing,” you say.

Seongje hums like he doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t push it.

You keep walking, but your eyes drift again toward his hand. He notices.

You look away quickly.

A moment passes before he speaks again.

“It’s nothing,” he says quietly.

You don’t answer.

The walk falls back into silence.

Seongje adjusts his pace slightly, staying beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way,” you say.

“I know,” he replies. “Just keep walking.”

So you do.

Until suddenly, you’re in front of your apartment.

Both of you stop.

He looks at you for a second, hands still in his pockets.

“Well,” he says, “goodnight, I guess.”

You hesitate.

Then

“Do you want to come in?”

Silence.

Your brain catches up a second too late.

What did I just say?

You already feel your face heating up.

He looks at you with disbelief, but tries to hide it.

“That’s a new one.”

“What?”

“I didn’t expect you to say that, honestly.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“I know,” he cuts in, smiling slightly. “Relax.”

There’s a beat where neither of you moves.

Then Seongje exhales lightly, like he’s made a decision without making it a big deal.

“I’ll come in,” he says.

Your brain takes a second to catch up.

“Oh.”

It comes out much smaller than you meant it to.

He glances at you.

“Is that a problem?”

“No,” you answer quickly.

He steps closer to the door as you unlock it, hands still in his pockets, posture relaxed, but there’s nothing careless about it anymore.

You push the door open.

You kick off your shoes a little too quickly, trying to pretend this is normal.

It isn’t.

Seongje stays near the entrance for a second, glancing around briefly before looking back at you.

“Nice place,” he says.

“Thanks,” you reply automatically.

Then the silence comes back again. You notice he doesn’t sit or move, just stands there.

“You can sit,” you say.

“I know,” he replies, sitting down.

You walk to the kitchen just to do something, grabbing a glass and filling it with water even though you’re not really thirsty.

Your hands feel slightly too aware of themselves.

You take a sip anyway.

Behind you, Seongje shifts slightly.

“You’re thinking too much,” he says.

“I’m not.”

“You are,” he repeats, calmer this time.

You can feel him watching you without turning around.

That alone makes your chest tighten.

Then suddenly

“I know what happened, you know.”

He freezes slightly at your sudden voice.

“What?”

Seongje is leaning back against the chair now, but the relaxed posture from earlier is gone.

“I heard people talking about it.”

“Talking about what exactly?” he says, his tone colder.

“At school,” you say quietly. “About what happened with those guys.”

His expression barely changes. He already knows exactly which guys you mean.

“People talk too much,” he says eventually.

“Why would you even do that?” you say, turning around to face him.

He doesn’t answer immediately. A faint exhale leaves him through his nose, almost irritated.

“They crossed a line.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Seongje doesn’t react right away. He just watches you, like he’s deciding how much of the truth you’re allowed to have.

“It is,” he says finally, getting up and walking toward you.

Now he’s facing you fully, barely any space left between you.

Your breath catches slightly before you can stop it. He’s looking at you differently. Not softer. Not harsher either. Just focused.

“Why do you care so much?” he asks quietly.

That makes you blink.

“I don’t,” you say too fast.

He doesn’t believe you, you can tell.

His gaze drops for a second, briefly, before returning to your face.

“You’re lying,” he says simply. “And that’s all you need to know. I’m not talking about this anymore.”

You don’t answer immediately.

You were ready for more words, but there’s nothing.

Like the conversation has already ended in his head, even if yours is still catching up.

You open your mouth slightly, then stop.

Because whatever you were going to say doesn’t feel solid anymore.

“What were you going to say?” he asks.

“Nothing. You said you’re not talking about this anymore,” you reply, irritated, almost embarrassed.

You don’t wait for his response. You move past him, leaving the kitchen and stepping into the living room.

A second later, you hear him follow.

And something in you tightens because of it.

Because it’s always like this, him never fully explaining, never fully saying anything that actually makes sense to you. Just enough to shut things down. Just enough to stay in control.

You hate that it gets to you this easily.

Tears start to form in your eyes before you can stop them. You tilt your head slightly, quickly, like it might push it back down before it shows.

Like he won’t notice.

“Hey” he says, awkwardly.

“I’m fine,” you say sharply.

“I didn’t mea-”

“Yeah, I know,” you cut him off. “You never mean to.”

A beat.

“Where is this going?” he asks.

He doesn’t get an answer right away.

Your mouth opens slightly, then closes again.

Because you don’t actually know.

Then Seongje exhales softly, like he’s given up trying to read you from a distance.

A tear slips down your cheek.

You don’t even notice it at first.

And before you can lift your hand to wipe it away, his hand is already there.

He brushes it off your skin with his thumb careful, almost hesitant, like he didn’t fully think before doing it.

You shiver at the touch and he notices immediately.

His hand pulls back instantly, awkward and unsure.

“Sorry,” he says quietly.

The word lands differently than you expect.

That alone is enough for the tightness in your chest to loosen slightly, not gone, just unsettled in a different way now.

He never says that.

You look away first.

Your body hasn’t decided what emotion it’s supposed to stay in.

He shifts slightly, like he’s about to step back properly this time.

“Do you want me to go?”

“I don’t know,” you say, dropping your head.

Then you feel him move closer again, not sudden, not confident. More like a decision he’s making as he goes.

His hand hesitates in the air for a second before gently brushing through the side of your hair, slow and careful. Not forcing anything. Just there, like he’s testing whether you’ll push him away.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, quieter this time.

That does it.

Your shoulders loosen slightly, like something you’ve been holding up for too long finally stops resisting.

You don’t even realize you’re moving until you are.

Your head tilts forward just enough to rest against his chest.

His hand stills immediately.

For a second, he doesn’t react at all, like he’s afraid that if he moves, you’ll disappear or change your mind.

Then his hand settles on the back of your head, gently, almost cautiously at first, before steadying.

“Hey,” he says again, softly.

“You’re an asshole, you know that,” you say against him.

He lets out a small, uneven breath, almost a laugh, but not really.

“Yeah,” he says quieter. “Probably.”

Neither of you moves right away.

His hand is still in your hair, like he hasn’t fully decided to let go yet.

“I should go,” he says, but he doesn’t sound fully convinced. “You’re tired.”

You try to hide the disappointment as you slowly lift your head from his chest.

Your hair falls forward, partly covering your face.

Before you can fix it, he reaches out, brushing it gently to the side, careful, almost absent minded, like it’s instinct rather than thought.

“Yeah, okay,” you say in a whisper.

He drops his hand and looks at you for a last moment before heading to the door.

“Text me when you get home,” you say, voice light again, slipping back into sarcasm. “You know, in case you get kidnapped.”

“I’ll do that,” he says with a small smile, before closing the door.

The only good thing in your life right now is that your apartment is close to your school. At least you can afford to wake up last minute.

You’re still half asleep, blindly patting around the nightstand, trying to shut the alarm off. You miss it twice before your hand finally finds your phone, and the noise cuts off, leaving a heavy silence behind.

You sit up slowly, steadying yourself on the bed with a frowb. The throbbing pain hits immediately, your back still aching from being slammed against the wall yesterday.

You freeze for a second, then glance down at your arms.

Bruises.

Faint, but visible. Blue spreading unevenly under your skin.

Great. Now I have to cover these up.

You get up, moving a little too stiffly, and start digging through your things, searching for concealer. You dab some over the marks, trying to blend it in, but the color still shows through.

You stare at it for a second, annoyed.

Never mind.

You check the time again. You’re already late.

You grab a long-sleeve shirt instead, black, the first one you find thrown over a chair, and pull it on. Jeans, quickly. No effort beyond that.

You don’t even bother with your hair.

As you pass by the mirror, something catches your eye.

You stop.

There’s a small cut on your cheek.

You frown, leaning in slightly.

Oh my god… where did that even come from?

For a second, you just stare at your reflection, tired, bruised, not fully there.

Then you look away.

You don’t have time for this.

You push your hair forward to cover it as much as you can, grab your things, and head out.

The classroom is louder than usual. Conversations overlap, chairs scrape against the floor, someone laughs too loudly in the back.

You slide into your seat without looking at anyone, keeping your head low as you pull your sleeves down just a little more over your wrists.

You try to ignore it, but you feel someone looking at you. You turn your head.

“You look worse than yesterday.”

It’s Seongje, his tone mocking as always, though there’s a hint of something softer underneath it. Worry, maybe. But you’re probably imagining it. Why would he care?

“Well, thank you for the comment I didn’t ask for,” you say, rolling your eyes and looking away.

“So how did it go?”

“I don’t think you’d be interested in that.”

“Come on, you’re still mad from yesterday.”

Mad?

You let out a quiet, humorless breath.

I nearly got beaten up by his guys, and he calls it mad.

“I’m not,” you say flatly. “It’s just none of your business.”

Your tone comes out sharper than you intended.

“Suit yourself,” he says, turning his attention back to his phone.

You don’t know why, but something tightens in your chest.

Of course he’d say that. What were you expecting?

He wasn’t asking because he cared. It was just something to entertain himself with. Something to laugh at.

And still…

Deep down, you wanted to tell him what really happened.

The bell rings. Class is over.

You quickly shove your books into your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and leave the classroom.

You keep walking with your head down, still trying to cover the cut on your face.

The hallway is less chaotic than the classroom, but still full of movement. Doors opening and closing, footsteps echoing off the walls, voices fading in and out.

You walk slightly faster than everyone else.

Head down.

You just need to get through this day. That’s all.

“I seriously need to know what happened yesterday for you to act like this. Wow, I’ve never seen you rushing like this, like, ever.”

You don’t need to turn to know it’s Seongje.

Great.

Can’t this guy leave me alone for a second?

Of all days, he chose today to keep annoying you.

“And I seriously need you to leave me alone,” you say, still walking.

He doesn’t stop you. Just keeps pace beside you, hands in his pockets like always, calm and annoyingly composed.

“Come on, Mirae,” he says with a teasing tone. “I know you like me being around.”

You pause for a second before answering.

“Oh God, never. I think you’re just really self-centered.”

A half-lie.

You actually don’t mind him being around, you just refuse to admit it to yourself.

You hear him laugh, and it does something you immediately try to ignore.

“Whatever,” he says. “Now tell me how did-”

You both pass by a window.

A gust of air slips through, and the strand of hair covering your face shifts just slightly.

The cut on your cheek is exposed for a second too long.

You react instantly, pulling your hair back down, too quick, too obvious.

“What were you going to say?” you ask, trying to shift the moment.

He stops mid-step.

“What’s that?”

His tone is lighter now, still sharp, but not pushing.

You barely react.

“What?”

He doesn’t repeat himself right away. Instead, his eyes move past your face.

To your cheek, where the cut is.

He pauses, then his gaze shifts slightly lower.

Your sleeve.

You instinctively adjust it before he can say anything else.

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly. "im just clumsy.”

“Right,” he says.

His expression doesn’t fully change, but something in it does, something uncertain. Almost like suspicion he doesn’t act on.

He doesn’t push further.

“I paid for them,” you say suddenly.

“What?”

You glance at him briefly, already regretting bringing it up.

“You were going to ask how I got away with Baekjin. I covered it. With my own money.”

A pause.

“Now I’m basically broke, I guess.”

He looks at you like he’s trying to decide if you’re joking.

Then he laughs.

“You’re absolutely insane.”

Yeah. Being around you would make anyone go insane.

“Well, good for you, Mirae.”

You force a small, flat smile.

“Yeah… anyway, I have to go. I’ll see you around.”

And before he can add anything else, you’re already walking away.

Because if he does, you might just break down in front of him.

And that is not an option.

It’s the end of the day. The sun is almost setting, and you’ve finally finished your classes.

Finally.

After that conversation with Seongje, you didn’t see him at all for the rest of the day.

Not that it’s unusual. He skips sometimes. But when he does, he’s usually still around the school… somewhere behind it, or in the hallways.

Not like you care. Or maybe you do.

You’re walking down the stairs when you hear low voices ahead, whispering, excited.

You tell yourself it’s probably just girls gossiping.

Until you catch a name.

“I can’t believe Seongje did that.”

“What do you mean you can’t believe it? That guy beats people up for a living.”

“No, but why would he do that to his own guys? They work with him. I need to know what happened, oh my god.”

“Word will get out. Don’t worry.”

They stop talking the moment you start walking closer.

You pass by them.

You can feel their eyes on you, but you don’t react. You just keep going.

Out the door.

The air outside is cooler. It hits your face and you close your eyes for a second, letting it settle.

You try not to think about what you just heard.

But your mind keeps circling it anyway.

Seongje.

Did he find out? Is that what it was?

No. That’s impossible.

He wouldn’t get involved in something like that.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

Your thoughts don’t settle, no matter how hard you try to push them down, so you open your eyes and start walking home.

On the way, you remember there’s nothing to eat.

Right.

So you change direction and head toward the convenience store.

That’s the only place you can get food from, considering you’re kind of broke now.

You’re almost there when you try to cross the road.

Suddenly you see a familiar figure.

Again?