#atzblogging

The campus was quiet when she stepped through the front gates that morning. A soft wind moved through the trees that lined the main walkway, scattering early autumn leaves across the pavement.

Y/N adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

Her outfit was bright again today.

A yellow sweater. Light blue skirt. White sneakers with tiny embroidered flowers on the sides.

Her roommate had once described her wardrobe as looking like a box of highlighters.

Y/N did not mind that description. Bright colors made her feel a little braver when the rest of the world felt too loud.

Still, she knew what people thought.

Weird.

Childish.

Too much.

She walked toward the main building while quietly humming to herself. It was a habit she did not always notice. Her mind liked to fill silence with little melodies, especially when she was nervous.

The university slowly came to life around her.

Students began appearing in small groups. The low murmur of conversations filled the air. Someone laughed loudly somewhere behind her.

Y/N kept her eyes down.

Her first lecture of the day was in the large economics hall.

She slipped inside and chose a seat in the second row near the wall. Not too far in the back where professors sometimes thought you were not paying attention. Not too close to the center where everyone could see you.

The sweet spot.

Her notebook came out. Pens lined up carefully beside it.

Y/N liked order. It helped her feel less like everything inside her head was bouncing around uncontrollably.

The lecture started.

Numbers. Charts. Supply curves.

She focused as best as she could, writing small neat notes while the professor explained concepts in a steady voice.

Halfway through the lecture the doors opened quietly.

A group of students entered.

Y/N did not need to look to know who they were.

The entire room felt it.

That strange shift in the atmosphere.

Like when a storm cloud rolled over the sun.

She lifted her eyes slightly.

There they were.

The group everyone talked about.

Park Seonghwa and his friends.

Eight of them in total.

They rarely sat apart.

They moved through campus like a quiet storm that parted crowds without needing to say anything.

Rumors surrounded them constantly.

Y/N had heard plenty of them.

Some people said they were the sons of powerful business families. Others claimed they had connections with dangerous people outside the university. There were stories about fights at exclusive clubs and expensive cars that appeared outside campus gates late at night.

No one knew which rumors were true.

But everyone agreed on one thing.

It was better not to get involved with them.

The group spread out across the back rows.

Y/N recognized them easily by now.

San with his sharp eyes and quiet confidence.

Wooyoung who always looked like he knew something no one else did.

Yunho who seemed tall enough to block the sun when he walked past.

Jongho with a calm expression that somehow looked stronger than most people twice his size.

Mingi leaned back in his chair lazily.

Yeosang sat beside him, silent and composed.

Hongjoong spoke quietly to someone while scrolling through his phone.

And Seonghwa.

Y/N's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than she intended.

He looked exactly like people described him.

Cold.

Perfect posture. Dark clothes. Expression unreadable.

If statues could walk, they might look like Park Seonghwa.

She quickly looked back down at her notes.

It was not smart to stare.

Not at people like that.

Even the professor seemed slightly distracted by their presence before continuing the lecture.

The class passed slowly after that.

Y/N packed her things carefully once it ended.

Students gathered their bags and filtered out of the room.

She kept her head down as she moved into the hallway.

The corridors quickly filled with chatter and footsteps.

Seonghwa's group walked ahead of her.

People moved aside for them instinctively.

No one asked them to.

They just did.

Y/N watched for a moment before looking away again.

Intimidating.

That was the word that always came to mind when she saw them.

They looked like people who lived in a completely different world than the rest of the university.

Not people someone like her should ever talk to.

She headed toward the cafeteria where she was supposed to meet her project group.

Group projects were Y/N's least favorite thing in existence.

Not because she did not like the work.

But because they required something she struggled with constantly.

Talking to people she did not know.

The table was already occupied when she arrived.

Three of her classmates sat there.

Minji waved slightly.

"Hey, Y/N."

Y/N smiled politely and sat down.

Her hands folded neatly on the table.

The others were already discussing their project presentation.

Marketing analysis.

Deadlines.

Slides.

Y/N contributed when she could, offering ideas in a quiet voice.

Sometimes people listened.

Sometimes they talked over her.

She was used to that by now.

At one point she laughed softly at something one of them said, though she was not sure if the joke had been meant as funny.

Conversations were like puzzles where she never quite understood all the rules.

After about thirty minutes she excused herself.

"I'll be right back."

The bathroom was thankfully empty.

Y/N washed her hands slowly, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

Her hair had escaped its ponytail slightly.

She fixed it.

"You are doing fine," she murmured quietly to herself.

A small pep talk.

She did those sometimes.

Just to steady her nerves.

After a moment she returned to the cafeteria.

Her footsteps slowed as she approached the table.

They had not noticed her yet.

Which meant she heard them.

"She's nice but..."

Y/N froze.

Another voice continued.

"I don't know. She's just weird."

Someone snorted.

"Did you see her outfit today? It looks like a kindergarten art project."

Laughter followed.

Y/N felt her stomach tighten painfully.

The third person spoke.

"And she talks to herself sometimes. I swear I heard her humming during lecture."

More laughter.

"Maybe she's actually crazy."

The words hit harder than they probably intended.

Y/N stood there quietly for a few seconds.

Her chest felt tight.

She knew she was awkward around new people.

She knew she sometimes said strange things without realizing.

But hearing it like that still hurt.

A lot.

She took a slow breath.

Then stepped forward like nothing had happened.

Her smile returned carefully to her face.

"Sorry," she said softly as she sat down again. "There was a line."

The conversation stopped for a moment.

Then someone quickly changed the topic.

They finished discussing the project.

Y/N nodded when necessary.

Agreed when needed.

Smiled when expected.

By the time the meeting ended her cheeks hurt slightly from holding that expression.

Outside the cafeteria the sky had turned pale gray.

Late afternoon light stretched across campus.

Y/N walked slowly toward the bus stop.

Her thoughts felt heavy.

Maybe they were right.

Maybe she was weird.

She liked bright colors too much.

She talked to herself.

Sometimes she did not understand jokes until hours later.

Maybe people like that just did not belong in places like this.

Her bus was still twenty minutes away.

Instead of waiting at the crowded stop she continued walking.

The streets grew quieter the farther she moved from campus.

Eventually she noticed a small building she had passed many times before but never entered.

A sign hung above the door.

Animal Shelter.

Another smaller sign was taped to the window.

Volunteers Welcome.

Y/N slowed down.

Animals had always been easier for her to understand than people.

Animals did not judge you for humming.

They did not laugh at your clothes.

They simply existed.

She hesitated for only a moment before opening the door.

A bell chimed softly above her head.

The smell inside was a mixture of hay, cleaning supplies, and something warm that reminded her of old blankets.

A woman behind the front desk looked up.

"Hello."

Y/N gave a small nervous wave.

"Hi. Um. I saw the sign outside. I was wondering if you needed volunteers."

The woman's face brightened.

"We always need volunteers."

Relief spread through Y/N's chest.

The woman explained a few simple tasks before handing her a pair of gloves.

"If you go down that hallway and take the second door on the right, someone is already working with the small animals. They can show you what to do."

Y/N nodded.

"Okay. Thank you."

She followed the hallway.

Soft barking echoed faintly from another room.

Somewhere a cat meowed loudly.

Her steps slowed as she reached the second door.

She pushed it open gently.

The room was warm.

Soft yellow lights illuminated rows of enclosures filled with rabbits, guinea pigs, and other small animals.

For a moment she simply took in the peaceful scene.

Then she noticed someone sitting on the floor near one of the rabbit pens.

A tall figure wearing a simple hoodie.

Several bunnies hopped around him.

One of them sat calmly in his lap.

He held a carrot carefully in his fingers while the rabbit nibbled on it.

And he was smiling.

Soft.

Gentle.

Warm in a way Y/N had never seen before.

It took her a full second to recognize him.

Park Seonghwa.

For a moment, Y/N genuinely thought she had imagined him.

Not Park Seonghwa exactly. He was too distinct to mistake for someone else, even hunched on the floor in a faded hoodie with his dark hair falling softly across his forehead. But the expression on his face. That was what felt unreal.

Warmth did not belong to him.

Not in the world she knew.

Not in lecture halls where he sat at the back like he did not need to try to make everyone nervous. Not in crowded corridors where conversations dimmed the second his friend group appeared. Not in the whispers that spread around campus with the ease of smoke.

He was supposed to be cold. Untouchable. Beautiful in the sharp, dangerous sort of way that told a person to keep their distance.

He was not supposed to be sitting on the floor with a rabbit in his lap, feeding it a carrot like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Y/N stood in the doorway, one hand still resting on the frame, her breath caught somewhere high in her throat. The room felt soft and strange around her. Hay. Warm light. The faint rustling of tiny feet against bedding. The quiet, contented movements of animals too small to understand rumors.

Seonghwa looked different here.

Not only because of the hoodie or because he was kneeling on the floor instead of standing at the center of some whispered myth. It was something deeper than that. Something in the way he held the rabbit with careful hands. Something in the way his mouth had curved into a smile so gentle that it almost made him look younger.

Human.

The thought came to her so suddenly it startled her.

As if, until now, he had not fully been one in her mind.

Y/N stared.

She knew she was staring. She knew she should probably say something. Introduce herself. Explain why she was there. Move. Blink. Do anything other than stand frozen in the doorway like an intruder who had just wandered into a secret she had never been meant to see.

But she could not seem to make her body cooperate.

The rabbit in his lap twitched ist nose.

Seonghwa lifted his eyes.

And everything changed.

It happened so quickly that Y/N almost wondered if she had imagined the softness too.

One second there had been warmth. Quiet. Gentleness.

The next, his entire face shut down.

The smile disappeared.

His shoulders straightened.

His expression turned smooth and unreadable, sharp in a way that made him look even more intimidating after what she had just witnessed. It was like watching a window slam shut in the middle of sunlight.

He stared at her for one long moment.

Then he said, very flatly, „What do you want?“

The question hit her like a splash of cold water.

Y/N opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

Her brain, already fragile from the day she had had, seemed to dissolve completely under his gaze.

She tried again.

Still nothing.

Her lips moved uselessly, soundless and clumsy, and for one horrible second she was acutely aware of how ridiculous she must have looked. Like a fish, she thought wildly. A shocked little fish standing in a doorway, opening and closing her mouth while Park Seonghwa stared at her as if he regretted her existence already.

Heat rushed to her cheeks.

She swallowed and tried to force her voice to work.

„I…“

Nothing.

Seonghwa’s eyes narrowed slightly.

He placed the rest of the carrot down beside him, moved the rabbit gently into a bed of blankets in the pen, and rose to his feet in one smooth motion.

Y/N had known he was tall. Everyone knew that.

But something about him standing and walking directly toward her inside that small shelter room made the fact feel much more immediate.

Much worse.

He crossed the space between them with calm, measured steps until he stood right in front of her. Not touching. Not crowding her exactly. But close enough that she had to tilt her head up to look at him, close enough that his presence seemed to fill the doorway and press the air thinner around her.

Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.

His face was unreadable.

„What do you want?“ he repeated.

This time she managed to drag a voice out of herself, though it came out painfully quiet.

„I wanted to volunteer.“

His expression did not change.

For half a second she thought maybe he would simply step aside. Maybe he would point her toward a clipboard or some cages to clean. Maybe this awful moment would loosen and become survivable.

Then he laughed.

It was not loud. Not cruel in the dramatic way people laughed in movies. If anything, it was a very controlled sound. Soft. Brief. Almost amused.

That somehow made it worse.

„Really?“ he asked.

Y/N blinked at him.

He crossed his arms. „That is the reason?“

„Yes,“ she whispered.

His gaze flicked over her face as if he were weighing that answer and finding it absurd.

„Or did you see me come in here and follow me because you thought it would give you another good story to spread around campus?“

For a second she did not even understand what he meant.

The words took a moment to settle.

Then her head moved quickly. „No.“

„No?“ he repeated.

She shook her head harder. „No, I didn’t. I just… I saw the sign outside and I wanted to ask if they needed help.“

Her voice wavered on the last word, but she pushed forward anyway, trying for once not to disappear into herself. „I didn’t know you were here.“

But Seonghwa kept looking at her like he had already decided what kind of person she was.

„I know who you are,“ he said.

Y/N went still.

The sentence should not have meant anything. They were in the same class. Of course he knew who she was. University campuses were not that large. Faces repeated. People recognized each other.

Still, hearing it from him sent a strange nervous jolt through her chest.

He continued before she could make sense of it.

„You’re in my lecture.“

Y/N nodded faintly.

„No one with eyes would fail to notice those ridiculous bright outfits you wear.“

The words landed with a dull, brutal force.

For a second, she thought she had misheard him.

Ridiculous.

Her mind repeated it in a small stunned voice.

Ridiculous bright outfits.

The yellow sweater. The blue skirt. The embroidered flowers on her shoes.

The same colors she wore because they made hard days feel a little softer. The same colors her roommate smiled at and called sunshine. The same colors she had already heard strangers judge in quieter ways, with looks and whispers and muffled laughter they thought she did not notice.

She looked up at him, genuinely shocked.

And because she was slow in moments like these, because pain always reached her one beat later than everyone else, it was not until then that she understood.

He thought she had followed him.

He thought she wanted gossip. A secret. Something ugly to feed the rumors already circling him.

He thought she was the sort of person who would do that.

Something in her chest gave a small, helpless ache.

So even he had looked at her and seen something easy to mock.

Even after the day she had already had.

Even now.

She tried to speak.

„I wasn’t lying,“ she said, but the words were thin and shaky.

Seonghwa exhaled quietly, as if he was running out of patience.

„You should just tell the truth.“

Y/N stared at him.

He had no idea.

He had no idea what kind of day she had had. No idea how carefully she had held herself together after hearing her group partners laugh about her. No idea how hard she had tried to keep smiling so no one would see the crack. No idea how raw and scraped thin she already felt.

Or maybe he did not care.

Maybe that was worse.

She could feel it before it happened, the awful stinging pressure behind her eyes.

No, she thought instantly.

No. Not here.

Not in front of him.

Not after this.

She blinked hard and looked down, willing the tears away.

But humiliation had a way of making ist own choices.

A hot drop slid down her cheek.

Y/N froze.

Her breath caught.

Then another followed.

Oh no.

Her entire body seemed to lock up in horror.

She brought a hand to her face too late, as if she could hide it after it had already started. Tears blurred her vision with humiliating speed, thick and sudden and impossible to stop. Her chest pulled tight with shallow, uneven breaths.

She was crying.

She was actually crying in front of Park Seonghwa.

Out of all the terrible things that could have happened in that moment, this somehow felt like the worst one.

She had not cried when her group members laughed about her. She had not cried in the cafeteria. She had not cried on the walk here.

And now, in front of the one person she least wanted to look weak in front of, the tears came anyway.

She heard his breath catch very slightly.

When she looked up through the blur, his expression had changed.

Not softened exactly. But the certainty was gone.

For the first time since he had walked toward her, he looked startled.

As if this reaction had not belonged anywhere in his imagined version of the conversation.

Y/N hated that too.

Hated being the one who broke apart. Hated that he was seeing it. Hated that she could not stop.

She stepped back quickly, bowing so fast that her hair fell forward.

„I am sorry,“ she said, her voice cracking badly on the words. „I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. I’m sorry.“

He said her name.

It startled her enough that she almost looked up.

But she did not.

She could not bear to see his face.

She turned and hurried out of the room.

The hallway blurred around her. Her bag knocked awkwardly against her hip as she half walked, half ran toward the front entrance. Somewhere behind her, she thought she heard movement. Thought maybe he had stepped after her. But she did not stop long enough to know if that was true.

The woman at the front desk called something after her, confusion in her voice, but Y/N pushed through the door and into the cool late afternoon air before she could be made to explain.

Outside, the world felt too bright.

People passed on the sidewalk without noticing the girl trying to wipe tears from her face while walking too quickly. Cars moved through the street. Somewhere nearby a bicycle bell rang. Life went on around her with that cruel normality the world always seemed to have when something inside her was falling apart.

Her face burned.

She kept her head down and walked faster.

By the time she reached the next street corner her breathing was unsteady enough that she had to stop for a second. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes and tried to gather herself, but that only made new tears slip free.

Ridiculous.

The word echoed again.

Ridiculous bright outfits.

She heard, layered over it, the voices from the cafeteria.

She is just weird.

Maybe she’s actually crazy.

Y/N let out a soft, miserable sound and forced herself to move again.

The walk to the apartment felt much longer than usual.

Every step seemed to drag the scene back through her mind in painful detail. The softness on Seonghwa’s face when he had not known she was watching. The coldness after. The suspicion. The laughter. That terrible look of surprise when she had started crying.

He probably thought she was dramatic now on top of everything else.

Maybe he would tell his friends. Maybe they would laugh.

No, she thought weakly. Maybe not. He did not seem like the type to gossip.

But then, she had not thought he was the type to look at someone’s clothes and call them ridiculous either.

Apparently she knew less than she had believed.

By the time she reached the apartment building, her eyes felt sore and her nose was pink from crying.

She fumbled with her keys twice before managing to unlock the front door.

The apartment smelled faintly of laundry detergent and instant noodles. Familiar. Safe. Usually enough to settle her.

Today, the second she stepped inside, she heard quick footsteps from the kitchen.

Her roommate appeared around the corner with a mug in one hand and concern already written all over her face.

„Y/N?“

That was all it took.

The fragile composure Y/N had been trying to rebuild the entire walk home cracked immediately.

Her roommate set the mug down so fast some tea sloshed over the side.

„Oh my god,“ she said, hurrying toward her. „What happened?“

Y/N tried to answer, but her throat closed up again. All that came out was a shaky breath.

That was enough for her roommate.

She took one look at Y/N’s face and gently pulled the bag from her shoulder before guiding her toward the couch.

„Sit down. No, actually, wait.“ She crouched in front of her instead, eyes wide with alarm. „Did someone say something to you? Are you hurt?“

Y/N shook her head quickly.

That only seemed to alarm her more.

„Then what happened?“

Y/N sat on the edge of the couch and stared at her hands. They trembled in her lap. She felt stupid all over again now that she was home and safe enough for the humiliation to settle properly.

How was she supposed to explain that she had cried in front of a boy over two sentences and a laugh?

How was she supposed to explain the entire weight of the day without sounding childish?

Her roommate reached out and squeezed her knee gently. „Take your time.“

That kindness, simple as it was, made her eyes sting again.

„It was just…“ Y/N wiped at her face with the sleeve of her sweater. „Today was bad.“

Her roommate’s expression softened. „Start at the beginning.“

So she did.

Slowly at first.

She told her about the lecture and how she had kept noticing Seonghwa and his friends at the back of the hall, quiet and intimidating as always. How people still moved around them like there was an invisible line nobody wanted to cross.

Her roommate snorted softly at that part. „People on your campus are ridiculous.“

Y/N gave a watery shrug. „Maybe. But they really do look scary together.“

„Scary and pretty are not the same thing.“

Despite everything, a weak laugh escaped Y/N before she could stop it.

„There,“ her roommate said gently. „Keep going.“

So Y/N did.

She told her about the project meeting in the cafeteria. About the way she had gone to the bathroom for a minute just to breathe, just to calm herself down and practice smiling again because speaking in groups always made her feel like every word had to be dragged over broken glass.

Then she told her what she had heard when she came back.

Her roommate went very still.

Y/N could still hear it as she repeated it out loud.

She’s nice but weird.

It looks like a kindergarten art project.

Maybe she’s actually crazy.

Saying it to someone else made it sound even uglier than it had in her head.

Her roommate’s face darkened with every sentence.

„They said that?“ she asked very quietly.

Y/N nodded.

„And they knew you were right there?“

„I don’t think they noticed at first.“

Her roommate sat back on her heels with a look so offended on Y/N’s behalf that it was almost impressive.

„I hope all of them step on wet floors in socks for the rest of their lives.“

The image was so specific that Y/N let out another shaky little laugh.

Her roommate immediately pointed at her. „No. I am serious. That is horrible. You did not deserve that.“

Y/N looked down again. „I know I can be awkward.“

„So what?“

Y/N picked at the hem of her skirt. „People don’t really like awkward.“

Her roommate’s voice sharpened. „Then people are boring.“

For a moment, the apartment fell quiet except for the humming refrigerator in the kitchen.

Her roommate reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Y/N’s ear in the way she often did when Y/N looked a little frayed around the edges.

„And what happened after that?“ she asked more softly.

Y/N hesitated.

This was the part she dreaded explaining most.

„I didn’t want to go straight home yet,“ she said. „So I kept walking, and I passed that animal shelter near campus.“

„The little one with the cat painted on the window?“

Y/N nodded. „They had a sign outside. Volunteers welcome.“

Her roommate’s face lit with immediate approval. „Of course you went in.“

„I just thought…“ Y/N swallowed. „I thought maybe if I could help a little, maybe the day would feel less awful.“

That idea alone made her roommate visibly melt. „You sweet angel.“

Y/N gave her a small look. „I am not an angel.“

„You tried to recover from being bullied by offering free labor to shelter animals. That is the most angelic thing I have heard all week.“

That should have made her smile more than it did.

Instead, her stomach twisted again as the memory rushed back.

Her roommate noticed at once.

„What?“ she asked. „What happened there?“

Y/N took a breath.

Then, carefully, she told her.

She described the room full of small animals. The warm lights. The rabbit pens. The shock of seeing Seonghwa there with a bunny in his lap, feeding it a carrot like he had never frightened a single person in his life.

Her roommate’s eyebrows climbed higher and higher. „Park Seonghwa volunteers at an animal shelter?“

Y/N nodded weakly.

„With bunnies?“

„Yes.“

There was a brief pause.

Then her roommate muttered, „That is annoyingly attractive.“

Y/N stared at her through damp lashes.

„What? I can be outraged and observant at the same time.“ She waved a hand. „Continue.“

Y/N looked down at her hands again.

She told her how Seonghwa had looked up and changed instantly. How the softness had vanished. How he had walked over to her and asked what she wanted. How nervous she had been, how her voice had barely worked.

Her roommate had gone still again.

Then Y/N repeated his words.

That he had laughed.

That he had asked if she had followed him there to get another good story for campus.

That he had said he knew who she was because no one with eyes could miss her ridiculous bright outfits.

She did not even get through the entire sentence before her roommate made a horrified sound.

„He said that?“

Y/N nodded.

„He actually said that to your face?“

„Yes.“

Her roommate stared at her for two full seconds in complete disbelief.

Then, with feeling, she said, „He is an idiot.“

Y/N’s mouth trembled.

Her roommate immediately corrected herself. „No. Sorry. He is a stunning, unbelievable, spectacular idiot.“

That actually pulled a small broken laugh out of Y/N.

But the tears came with it too.

„I don’t even know why I cried,“ she said miserably. „I just did. I couldn’t stop it. I looked so stupid.“

Her roommate’s whole expression softened at once.

„Oh, honey.“

Y/N looked away. „I hate crying in front of people.“

„I know.“

„He probably thinks I’m pathetic.“

Her roommate moved from her crouch on the floor to the couch beside her in one smooth shift. „No. He should think he was cruel.“

Y/N let out a shaky breath.

„I just…“ Her voice cracked again. „It felt like everyone I talked to today decided I was strange and annoying and too much. And then he said it too, and I know it was only about my clothes but it just…“ She pressed her hand to her chest. „It hurt.“

The words were barely out before her roommate pulled her into her arms.

Y/N went without resisting, folding into the hug with the exhausted relief of someone who had been holding herself upright all day by sheer will.

Her roommate was warm and familiar. Her sweater smelled like vanilla detergent. One hand moved up to cradle the back of Y/N’s head while the other wrapped firmly around her shoulders.

„Listen to me,“ she said quietly.

Y/N shut her eyes.

„You are not weird.“

The sentence hit something tender inside her.

Her roommate kept going, voice steady and certain in the way Y/N always wished her own could be.

„You are shy. You are anxious sometimes. You overthink. You wear colors because they make you happy and because the world is already gray enough without helping it. You talk to yourself when you are nervous and animals like you because you are gentle and people who actually know you adore you.“

Y/N felt fresh tears slip free, but these were softer somehow. Less sharp.

Her roommate rested her cheek lightly against Y/N’s hair.

„You are not weird,“ she repeated. „You are lovely. Other people being too dull or too shallow to see that is their problem, not yours.“

Y/N’s hands curled in the fabric of her roommate’s shirt.

„What if I am too much?“ she whispered.

Her roommate leaned back just enough to look at her, both hands moving to hold Y/N’s face now.

„You are not too much. You have just spent too much time around people who do not deserve you.“

That made Y/N cry harder for a minute, because some truths hurt even while they healed.

Her roommate wiped under her eyes carefully with both thumbs once the tears slowed again.

„There she is,“ she murmured. „My favorite girl in the entire apartment.“

Y/N gave a weak, wet laugh. „There are only two girls in the apartment.“

„And you still won.“

That finally earned a real small smile.

Her roommate smiled back immediately, triumphant at the sight of it. „Good. That is better.“

Y/N breathed out slowly.

The ache in her chest had not vanished, but it had shifted into something more manageable.

Her roommate got up briefly to fetch tissues and the mug of tea she had abandoned, then returned and tucked Y/N’s legs onto the couch as if arranging an injured bird in a nest.

„Drink,“ she ordered gently.

Y/N obeyed.

The tea was warm and sweet, and the ordinary comfort of it almost made her emotional all over again.

Her roommate watched her with narrowed eyes, still visibly fuming beneath the tenderness.

„I cannot believe your project partners said that to you.“

Y/N stared into her tea. „I should probably still work with them. We have a deadline.“

„Work with them, yes. Become friends with them, absolutely not.“

Y/N nodded.

„And as for Park Seonghwa,“ her roommate continued, folding her arms, „if he has even one functioning brain cell, he will feel horrible by tomorrow.“

Y/N was not so sure.

He had looked shocked when she cried, yes. But shock did not necessarily mean regret.

Maybe he was only surprised that the weird girl in bright clothes had feelings after all.

She hated that her mind would even frame it like that.

Her roommate must have seen something in her face, because her expression softened again.

„Hey,“ she said. „Look at me.“

Y/N did.

„One bad day does not get to decide who you are.“

The words settled between them.

„And one mean sentence from a pretty boy with emotional issues definitely does not get to decide it either.“

A tiny laugh escaped Y/N.

„There you are,“ her roommate said again. „I want at least three more of those before bedtime.“

„That sounds like a difficult assignment.“

„I believe in you.“

For a while they stayed like that on the couch, Y/N tucked into the corner with a blanket around her legs and tea warming her hands, her roommate beside her like a guard dog disguised as a college student.

Eventually the apartment settled into evening.

The windows darkened. Someone in the building next door turned on music low enough to blur into background noise. Her phone buzzed once with a group project notification, which she ignored on sight.

Her roommate put on a ridiculous baking show to distract her.

It worked a little.

But even as Y/N laughed weakly at overdecorated cakes and listened to her roommate provide increasingly dramatic commentary, her mind kept drifting back to the shelter.

To the hay on the floor.

To the rabbit in Seonghwa’s lap.

To the way his face had softened when he thought no one could see him.

And then to the way it had hardened the moment he looked up.

That was what confused her most.

Not that he had been rude. Not even that he had misjudged her.

It was the contrast.

Two versions of the same person that felt impossible to fit together.

The boy gently feeding a bunny with careful fingers.

The boy looking at her with suspicion and calling her clothes ridiculous.

Both of them were real. She had seen them within the same minute.

She did not know what to do with that.

Her roommate nudged her knee lightly. „You went quiet again.“

Y/N blinked and looked back at the television. „Sorry.“

„What are you thinking?“

She hesitated.

Then, because honesty was easier here than anywhere else, she said, „I think it might have hurt more because for a second he looked… nice.“

Her roommate frowned.

„I saw him before he noticed me,“ Y/N said quietly. „He looked so gentle with the rabbit. And then it was like the second he saw me, everything changed.“

That earned a thoughtful silence.

„Maybe,“ her roommate said slowly, „he is used to expecting the worst from people.“

Y/N looked at her.

Her roommate shrugged one shoulder. „It does not excuse what he said. He was still an idiot. But sometimes people decide to strike first because they assume everyone else came to hurt them.“

Y/N thought about that.

It fit, in a way she did not like because it made things more complicated.

Rumors. Fear. His silence. The sharpness with which he had looked at her as though he had been caught doing something forbidden and had chosen anger as cover.

Still, the memory of his words burned too freshly for sympathy to fully settle.

„Maybe,“ she said at last.

Her roommate leaned back into the couch. „Either way, you are not the villain in this story.“

Y/N smiled faintly. „That sounds dramatic.“

„I am dramatic. It is one of my better qualities.“

They watched another episode of the baking show.

Then another.

And little by little, the apartment worked ist quiet magic on her. The world narrowed back down to couch cushions, warm tea, soft lamplight, and the person beside her who never made her feel like she had to edit herself into something easier to understand.

By the time she finally changed into pajamas and stood in the bathroom washing away the last traces of dried tears, she looked tired but less wrecked.

Her reflection still had pink eyes and slightly puffy cheeks.

But it also had the bright yellow of her sweater folded neatly over the laundry basket, waiting to be worn again another day.

She looked at it for a moment.

Then she looked at herself in the mirror.

Maybe not tomorrow, she thought.

Tomorrow might require softer colors.

But someday soon, yes.

Because her roommate was right.

The people who laughed at her in cafeterias did not get to decide who she was.

And neither did a beautiful boy in a shelter full of rabbits who had looked at her and decided to be cruel before he knew anything at all.

When she came back into the living room, her roommate glanced up from her phone.

„Better?“

„A little.“

Her roommate held her arms open again at once.

Y/N smiled despite herself and crossed the room to fall into the hug.

„Good,“ her roommate murmured into her hair. „And just so we are clear, if I ever meet those project partners, I will hex them.“

„You don’t know how to hex people.“

„I can learn.“

„And Seonghwa?“

Her roommate drew back enough to look her in the eye, scandalized. „Especially Seonghwa.“

Y/N laughed, small but real.

Her roommate grinned and pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head.

„There she is.“

Outside, the night settled quietly over the city.

Inside, held close and warm in the little apartment that had become her safest place, Y/N let herself believe for just a moment that maybe being seen by the right person mattered more than being misunderstood by everyone else.

Seonghwa did not usually make mistakes like that.

He was careful with people.

Careful with words, with distance, with the measured expression he wore like armor whenever he stepped outside the apartment he shared with the others. He knew what people thought of him. He knew what they thought of all of them. Rich, cold, arrogant, probably cruel. The type of boys people liked to whisper about because the truth was always less entertaining than the version they built out of rumors.

Most days, Seonghwa let them talk.

It was easier that way.

If people already believed he was difficult to approach, then they stayed away. And if they stayed away, then they could not pry into things that did not concern them. They could not take soft things and turn them ugly. They could not ask why he spent afternoons at the shelter instead of at the expensive bars people assumed he liked. They could not laugh if they saw him on the floor of the rabbit enclosure with one in his lap and hay clinging to his sleeve.

Distance was useful.

Distance was safe.

So why, out of all the ways that conversation could have gone, had it ended with a girl crying in front of him?

Seonghwa lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, one arm bent behind his head, the other resting across his stomach. His room was dark except for the warm light from the small lamp on his desk. Across from him, clothes were draped neatly over the chair. A book lay open on the bedside table where he had abandoned it nearly an hour ago without reading a single page.

He kept replaying the scene anyway.

The doorway of the shelter room.

The bright colors of her clothes against the soft yellow light.

The startled look on her face when she saw him sitting there with the rabbit.

Then his own voice, flat and suspicious.

What do you want?

He shut his eyes.

It sounded worse now than it had in the moment.

At the time, it had felt automatic. Defensive. A reflex sharpened by too many years of being looked at and misread before anyone had even tried to know him. He had seen someone from his lecture in the doorway, frozen and wide-eyed, and instinct had done the rest.

She had looked nervous from the beginning.

Not guilty. Not curious in the ugly way people got when they thought they had uncovered something scandalous. Not excited. Not smug.

Just nervous.

And yet he had kept going.

He remembered the way her mouth had moved soundlessly at first, lips parted as if her words had simply stopped functioning under pressure. He had thought, stupidly, that it was an act. That she was trying to appear harmless because she had been caught.

But then she had said, in that tiny voice, that she wanted to volunteer.

And he had laughed.

Seonghwa pressed the heel of his hand briefly over his eyes.

He could still see the tears when they had suddenly spilled over.

That was the part that would not leave him alone.

He had seen people cry before. It was not as if tears were some incomprehensible mystery to him. But this had been different because the whole thing had changed so fast. One second she had been standing there trying to explain herself, and the next she had looked at him like he had hit something raw and bruised without even knowing where it was.

He had not expected that.

He had definitely not expected the apology.

I am sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. I’m sorry.

As if he had been the one inconvenienced.

He turned his head toward the window, jaw tightening.

There had been something awful in the way she bowed and fled. Not dramatic. Not manipulative. Just humiliated in the most genuine way. Her face had crumpled like she had tried very hard for it not to, which somehow made it worse.

And she had been anxious.

That was the other thing he could not stop thinking about.

Not the casual nervousness most people had around him and the others. Not the careful politeness that came from hearing too many campus rumors. She had seemed genuinely anxious from the first second he spoke to her. Like every word cost her effort. Like his presence had pressed her into herself until she barely took up space in the room.

He opened his eyes again and stared at the ceiling.

Great, he thought bitterly.

He had made a shy girl cry in a rabbit shelter.

That was such a specific type of awful that even he had to acknowledge it.

From somewhere beyond his bedroom door came the sound of shouting.

Not angry shouting. Normal shouting.

Which meant the others were all in the living room.

A second later came Wooyoung’s voice, loud and offended. „That was my drink.“

„It became my drink the second you put it down and walked away,“ Mingi replied.

„You cannot just claim property like that.“

„I absolutely can.“

Then Yunho, sounding far too entertained. „I saw nothing. Continue.“

Seonghwa exhaled through his nose.

The apartment was chaos when all eight of them were home at once. Controlled chaos, mostly. Familiar chaos. The kind built out of overlapping personalities and years of knowing one another too well.

Usually, he found it grounding.

Tonight he had been hiding from it.

But lying here was doing nothing except giving his thoughts more room to circle themselves to death.

With a sigh, he pushed himself upright and ran a hand through his hair before standing. He grabbed the oversized gray sweatshirt hanging over the back of his desk chair and pulled it on, then opened his bedroom door.

The noise hit him immediately.

The shared apartment was large, modern, and expensive in the quiet understated way their families all preferred. Clean lines, wide windows, neutral colors. The kind of place that should have looked serene if not for the fact that it currently contained eight men in their twenties.

The living room looked as if a small, well-dressed storm had passed through it.

Mingi was stretched half across one end of the couch, all long limbs and lazy confidence, holding the bottle that apparently used to belong to Wooyoung. Wooyoung stood in front of him with his hands on his hips, deeply offended and dramatic enough to act as though this were a betrayal of historic proportions.

San sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table, focused on some game controller in his hands, though the curve of his mouth made it clear he was listening to every second of the argument.

Jongho was in the armchair by the window reading something on his tablet with the expression of a man who had long ago accepted that chaos was the natural state of the apartment.

Yunho was leaning against the kitchen counter eating cereal out of a mug for reasons known only to him, laughing every few seconds like he was watching a live comedy show.

Hongjoong sat at the dining table with his laptop open, somehow still managing to work in the middle of all this, though Seonghwa knew from the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth that he was not nearly as unaffected as he pretended.

Yeosang was on the other end of the couch, legs tucked under him, flipping through channels with the remote but not actually settling on anything. Calm as ever. Quiet. Observant.

For a second, the sheer ordinary ridiculousness of them all almost pulled Seonghwa fully out of his own head.

Almost.

Hongjoong looked up first.

He always noticed more than he let on.

His eyes moved over Seonghwa’s face once, quick and sharp. „You look like you’re thinking too hard.“

Wooyoung whipped around immediately. „That sounds serious. Is he thinking about murder or feelings?“

„Why are those the only two categories?“ Jongho asked without looking up.

„Because they are the most interesting.“

Seonghwa ignored that and moved toward the kitchen. „Can I not exist quietly for one evening.“

„You can,“ Hongjoong said. „But you’re not doing it quietly. You’re doing it like someone just told you your favorites snack got discontinued.“

That got a laugh out of Yunho.

Even Seonghwa felt his mouth twitch.

He grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water, leaning one hip against the counter when he was done. He told himself he did not have to bring it up. He told himself he could simply stand there for a few minutes, let the others talk nonsense around him until the tightness in his chest loosened, and then go back to his room.

Instead, he heard himself say, „Do any of you know a girl named Y/N from our lecture?“

That got everyone’s attention far more efficiently than he would have liked.

Wooyoung’s eyes widened immediately. „You mean the cute girl with the bright outfits?“

Seonghwa looked at him.

Wooyoung pointed. „What. She is cute.“

„That was fast,“ San said.

„I notice people. It is a gift.“

„It is nosiness,“ Yeosang corrected mildly.

Wooyoung ignored him. „Yes, I know who you mean. She wears a lot of yellow and blue, right? And she always looks like she’s trying very hard not to be perceived.“

Seonghwa went still for half a second.

That was annoyingly accurate.

He nodded once. „Yes.“

Mingi lowered the bottle a little. „Why are you asking?“

Now everyone was looking at him.

Wonderful.

He considered brushing it off. Saying it was nothing. That he had simply recognized someone from class and wondered if anyone else had.

But Hongjoong was still watching him with that too perceptive expression, and Seonghwa suddenly had the very strong feeling that if he lied, he would immediately be called out for it.

So he sighed and said, „Something happened at the shelter.“

The room quieted.

Even Wooyoung stopped trying to steal his drink back.

Seonghwa stared down into his glass for a moment, then set it on the counter and told them.

He told them about seeing Y/N in the doorway of the small animal room. About how she had looked shocked to find him there. About how he had assumed the worst too quickly and asked what she wanted.

He kept his tone even, but the details sounded progressively worse the more he spoke them aloud.

When he reached the part where he had accused her of following him to get another story to spread around campus, Wooyoung winced openly.

„Oh,“ Yunho said, the single syllable full of sympathy and secondhand embarrassment.

Mingi leaned back farther against the couch cushions and rubbed a hand over his face. „Hyung.“

Seonghwa kept going anyway.

He repeated the line about recognizing her from class because of her bright outfits. He did not soften the wording. They all deserved to hear exactly what he had said if he was going to confess any of it at all.

By the time he got to the tears, the room had gone properly still.

„I didn’t know she would…“ He stopped, annoyed by how insufficient the sentence sounded. „She started crying.“

For a brief moment, nobody spoke.

Then Wooyoung said very quietly, „You made the cute girl cry in a bunny room.“

Seonghwa gave him a flat look.

Wooyoung raised both hands. „I am sorry. That was not helpful. But wow.“

Jongho finally looked up from his tablet. „Did she say anything before she left?“

„She apologized,“ Seonghwa said.

Something in Hongjoong’s expression shifted.

That, apparently, was the detail that bothered him most.

„She apologized?“ he repeated.

Seonghwa nodded once.

San set his controller down on the coffee table. „That doesn’t sound like someone who came there to stir up gossip.“

„No,“ Seonghwa said, the word low and immediate.

That much he knew now, if nothing else.

Before anyone else could add to it, Yeosang spoke.

His voice was quiet as always, but it cut cleanly through the room. „My sister lives with her.“

Seonghwa blinked and looked over. „What?“

Yeosang looked back at him, calm and unreadable in that infuriating way he had when everyone else was reacting and he had already sorted through the matter in his head.

„Soomin. My sister. She shares an apartment with Y/N.“

That landed heavily.

Wooyoung’s mouth dropped open first. „Why do you know everything in the most dramatic order possible.“

Yeosang ignored him. „I’ve heard about her before.“

Seonghwa straightened away from the counter a little. „From your sister?“

„Sometimes.“ Yeosang rested one arm along the back of the couch. „Mostly in passing. Y/N is her friend. She is quiet. Shy. Apparently very bad at believing compliments. Good with animals. Brings home strange fruit-flavored snacks that look suspicious but are usually decent.“

That last part was so oddly specific that it made Yunho snort.

Seonghwa was not laughing.

Yeosang continued, „I also overheard students talking about her today on campus.“

Something cold settled in Seonghwa’s stomach.

Yeosang’s gaze flicked to him briefly, as if he already knew exactly where this was going and did not enjoy it any more than Seonghwa did.

„They were calling her weird,“ he said. „Making fun of her outfits. Saying they were ridiculous.“

The room went even quieter.

„And I know she heard them,“ Yeosang added. „She was right behind them.“

Seonghwa felt as though someone had dropped a weight straight through the center of his chest.

For a second, he said nothing.

It snapped into place all at once.

The way her face had changed when he mentioned her clothes.

The shock first, then hurt.

The tears that had seemed too sudden to make sense.

Except they had made perfect sense.

She had already heard it that day.

Maybe only hours earlier.

And then he had repeated the same cruelty without knowing it.

No.

That was not true, was it?

He had not known she had heard it before. But he had still chosen to say it in the first place.

He could not even hide behind ignorance properly.

Wooyoung cursed under his breath.

San leaned back on his hands and exhaled slowly. „That explains a lot.“

„It does,“ Hongjoong said.

Yeosang’s expression did not change, but his voice softened by a fraction. „She doesn’t seem like someone who spreads rumors. If she cried that quickly, then maybe she was already overwhelmed. And hearing it from you too…“ He let the rest hang.

From you too.

The words lodged deep.

Seonghwa looked down at the floorboards for a moment, jaw tight.

He felt bad.

That was too simple a phrase for it, but it was the nearest honest one.

He had been unfair. Worse than unfair. He had seen a nervous girl in a doorway, assumed the ugliest motive available to her, and then hit the exact insecurity that had already been bleeding.

And she had apologized to him before she ran.

He let out a long breath. „I know.“

Mingi tilted his head. „You know what.“

Seonghwa’s mouth tightened. He was not good at this part. The saying it plainly part.

Still, he made himself do it.

„I know I was unfair,“ he said. „And I know I hurt her.“

No one interrupted.

So he added, more quietly, „I feel bad.“

The room remained still for one more beat.

Then Wooyoung pointed at him. „Good.“

Seonghwa stared.

„What? You should feel bad. You were awful.“

„Thank you, Wooyoung,“ Jongho said dryly. „That was nuanced.“

„It was accurate.“

Hongjoong closed his laptop at last and leaned back in his chair. „What exactly did you think she was going to do? Stand in the middle of campus tomorrow and announce that Park Seonghwa holds carrots for rabbits?“

Seonghwa rubbed at the back of his neck. „I don’t know.“

„That is not reassuring.“

„I saw someone from class looking at me like I’d been caught doing something strange,“ Seonghwa said, more defensive than he intended. „I reacted.“

San gave him a long look. „You reacted badly.“

„Yes,“ Seonghwa said.

Another silence followed, less sharp this time.

Yunho set his mug down on the counter and crossed his arms. „So what are you going to do about it?“

The question sat in the center of the room.

Seonghwa had been trying not to ask himself that yet because the answer required action, and action was harder than guilt.

Before he could say anything, the front door opened.

Every head turned.

A woman stepped inside carrying a tote bag over one shoulder and a box of pastries in both hands. She kicked the door shut behind her with practiced familiarity and walked two steps into the apartment before stopping dead.

Soomin.

Yeosang’s sister looked very much like him around the eyes, though where Yeosang’s calm was cool and composed, hers tended toward vivid and expressive. At the moment, her expression was thunderous.

She looked from one face to another, then locked immediately onto Seonghwa.

The pastries hit the kitchen island with a soft thud.

„You,“ she said.

Seonghwa blinked once.

This did not bode well.

Yeosang, to his credit, looked only mildly resigned. „Hello to you too.“

Soomin pointed at Seonghwa without sparing her brother a glance. „No. Not now.“

Wooyoung’s eyes lit up instantly with the delighted horror of someone realizing a disaster had become live entertainment.

Hongjoong, meanwhile, had the face of a man who knew exactly what this was about and had already accepted that none of them were escaping it.

Soomin took another step forward.

„Are you actually stupid,“ she demanded, looking directly at Seonghwa now, „or did you just decide to behave like the biggest idiot on earth for fun today?“

Seonghwa said nothing.

Not because he did not have a response, but because judging by the look on her face, offering one seemed unwise.

Soomin laughed once in pure disbelief. „Unbelievable. My brother spends years insisting you are secretly nice and then you go and make Y/N cry?“

Well.

That answered the last tiny hope he had that maybe she was angry about something unrelated.

Wooyoung made a soft sound that might have been sympathy or fascination.

Yeosang pinched the bridge of his nose.

Soomin was just getting started.

„Do you have any idea what kind of day she had before that?“ she asked.

Seonghwa held her gaze. „I didn’t. I know now.“

„Oh, good. Wonderful. So after hearing her group project partners call her weird and say her clothes look ridiculous, she got to hear the same thing from you too.“

Every word landed exactly where it deserved.

Seonghwa stood very still under them.

Soomin folded her arms. „She came home crying. Crying. Y/N barely lets herself do that in front of me unless she is really hurt.“

Something hot and unpleasant twisted in his chest.

He knew that, technically. Or rather, he had guessed as much from the way Y/N had looked as though the crying itself embarrassed her almost as much as what he had said.

Hearing it confirmed from someone who knew her made it feel worse.

„I was wrong,“ he said.

Soomin stared at him like she was deciding whether that answer was enough to keep him alive.

„Yes,“ she said. „You were.“

Yunho quietly moved the pastries farther from the edge of the counter, perhaps in case righteous anger made Soomin gesticulate violently enough to endanger them.

She pointed again, as if she had not yet finished properly stabbing Seonghwa with the truth. „She thought the shelter looked nice. She wanted to help. Because that is the kind of person she is. She does not stalk boys for gossip. She barely even likes talking to strangers at all.“

Wooyoung muttered, „That checks out.“

Soomin shot him a look. „You do not get commentary privileges right now.“

Wooyoung put both hands in the air.

Yeosang leaned back against the couch, arms crossed now, watching the scene unfold with the composure of someone who knew his sister’s storms had to spend themselves.

Seonghwa took the full force of it.

He did not really have a right to defend himself.

Not when every additional detail made the picture clearer.

Y/N had gone to the shelter because she needed somewhere soft after being hurt.

And he had become part of the hurt instead.

Soomin’s expression shifted slightly then, still furious but less explosive, more deeply offended on behalf of someone she loved.

„She already feels like people think she’s strange,“ she said. „Do you understand that? She hears it all the time even when no one says it out loud. And then one person actually sees her cry and she feels ashamed for existing near them at all.“

The room had gone silent around them.

Even Wooyoung was keeping quiet now.

Seonghwa looked down for a moment, then back at her. „I understand.“

It sounded hollow to his own ears. Understanding after the damage was done was a weak thing.

Soomin seemed to agree.

„No,“ she said. „You understand now. That is different.“

He accepted that.

Because she was right.

A beat passed.

Then, more tired than angry now, Soomin shook her head and dragged a hand through her hair. „Honestly. An idiot. My poor girl saw a man cuddle a bunny and thought maybe the universe was being kind for once, and instead she got personally attacked by the bunny man.“

At that, to Seonghwa’s immense dismay, Mingi choked on a laugh.

Wooyoung folded in on himself, shoulders shaking soundlessly.

Even San lowered his head to hide a smile.

Seonghwa closed his eyes for a second.

Bunny man.

Excellent. He would never recover.

Soomin looked over at the others. „Do not laugh. He is terrible.“

„We’re laughing because bunny man is unfortunately very good,“ Yunho said.

Yeosang, traitorously, looked almost amused now too.

Soomin huffed and turned back to Seonghwa. „The point is, if you are going to walk around looking like some tragic prince and secretly volunteer with rabbits, the least you can do is not be mean to sweet girls in bright sweaters.“

Seonghwa actually had no defense for that.

Hongjoong rested his elbows on the table. „I think the court has made ist ruling.“

„The court is correct,“ Jongho said.

Soomin gave a sharp nod, satisfied that every single person in the apartment had acknowledged Seonghwa’s guilt. Then she reached for the pastry box, opened it, and glared at him one last time before pulling out a cream-filled one for herself.

„For the record,“ she said around a bite, „Y/N is too nice. I am not. So if you make her cry again, I will ruin your life.“

„I believe you,“ Seonghwa said honestly.

„Good.“

She took another bite and wandered over to sit beside Yeosang as though she had not just entered the apartment like a force of divine judgment.

Wooyoung lowered his hands from his face at last. „Can I talk now.“

„No,“ Soomin and Yeosang said together.

Wooyoung looked delighted by that for some reason.

Seonghwa stayed where he was for a moment longer, one hand resting on the kitchen counter, mind louder now than it had been alone in his bedroom.

He felt bad.

That had been true before.

Now it felt insufficient to an almost embarrassing degree.

Because bad was too vague.

Bad did not fully cover seeing the shape of what he had done through the eyes of people who knew her better than he did. Through the eyes of a roommate furious on her behalf. Through the casual certainty with which everyone in the room had agreed that Y/N was not the sort of person he had accused her of being.

He had judged her in seconds.

He had been wrong in every possible direction.

And the worst part was that the image of her in the shelter would not leave him.

Not just the tears.

The other details too.

The way she had stood in the doorway looking startled, as if she had walked into a secret that had softened him by accident. The tiny hopeful part of her explanation before he crushed it. The bright colors of her outfit against the warm light. The fact that she had come there to help on what must already have been a horrible day.

Bunny man, he thought grimly, because apparently the universe was going to mock him through Soomin now too.

He scrubbed a hand over his face.

Across the room, Hongjoong watched him for one long second and then asked, very calmly, „So. What are you going to do about it now?“

This time, Seonghwa did not pretend not to understand the question.

He lifted his head slowly.

He did not have an answer yet. Not a full one.

But he knew one thing with perfect certainty.

Whatever happened next, he was going to have to face Y/N again.

And somehow, impossibly, he was going to have to find a way to make her believe he was sorry.

Main Masterlist | Seonghwas Masterlist

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