vale

Hyoman was an idiot. Everyone at Eunjang, no, everyone in Yeongdeungpo knew it. He was huge, loud, abusive, and always looking for someone to mess with to feel superior.

And that afternoon, his target was Yeon Sieun.

The third-floor hallway was almost empty. Classes had ended over half an hour ago. The girl was walking toward the exit with her backpack slung over one shoulder when she heard the noise. She peeked around the corner and saw the scene. Hyoman had Sieun cornered against the lockers. Hyoman was shouting stupid crap, trying to intimidate him, jabbing Sieun's shoulder with his giant index finger.

Sieun, for his part, was completely silent. His face showed not a trace of fear, just that same bored expression he always wore. But the girl, who knew him well enough, noticed how Sieun's right hand was slowly sliding into his pants pocket, probably reaching for a pen to stab Hyoman in the neck or the eye.

Sieun was going to fight. And even though she knew Sieun was a monster when he set his mind to it, Hyoman had twice his weight and size. Panic took hold of her. She didn't want to see Sieun fight, didn't want to see him hurt, and she also didn't want him expelled for shoving a pen into that gorilla's brain.

Without thinking twice, instinct overrode reason.

She ran toward them and threw herself right in the middle, shoving Hyoman's chest with both hands to push him away from Sieun.

"Leave him alone, you idiot!" she shouted, positioning herself in front of Sieun like a human shield. "The PE teacher's coming up the stairs. If he sees you messing with another student, you're getting detention for the whole month."

Hyoman looked at her with disgust, caught off guard by the interruption. He glanced toward the stairs and clicked his tongue in annoyance. He didn't want trouble with the teachers.

"You got lucky this time, runt," Hyoman spat at Sieun before turning on his heel and stomping away down the hallway.

The girl let out all the air she'd been holding in her lungs. She turned around to face Sieun with a small, relieved smile, expecting him to say something like "thanks" or at least give her a nod.

But when she looked at him, the smile vanished from her face in an instant.

Sieun wasn't relieved. He was furious.

His eyes, normally so calm, were now shooting sparks. His jaw was clenched so tight there was a visible tic in his cheek, and the hand he had in his pocket was trembling.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Sieun asked. His voice wasn't a yell, but it was so cold and cutting it felt like a slap.

"What? I... I was helping you," she stammered, confused by his reaction. "Hyoman is huge, Sieun, he was going to hit you. I just wanted him to leave..."

"I didn't ask for your help!" Sieun suddenly exploded, raising his voice in a way that made her stumble back a step in shock. "You think I can't defend myself? You think I'm some useless loser who needs a girl to stand in front of a guy twice her size?"

"I didn't say that! I was just worried about you," she defended herself, feeling a knot forming in her throat.

"Then don't worry about me!" Sieun shouted, stepping toward her, his expression almost terrifying. "What do you think would've happened if Hyoman decided to hit you instead of me, huh? Did you even think about that? Stay out of my problems! If you're going to do stupid things and put yourself at risk for me, then don't come near me."

The hallway fell silent.

Sieun's words echoed off the walls. They were cruel, unfair, and straight to the heart. The girl stared at him with wide eyes. She could feel the tears threatening to spill over.

She'd only tried to protect the boy she liked, and he was treating her like she was a nuisance, like she was weak or stupid.

Sieun, seeing the glint of tears in her eyes, seemed to realize what he'd just said. His mouth opened slightly, his expression softening for a microsecond, as if he wanted to take his words back.

But her pride and her hurt were faster.

"Fine," she said, her voice trembling but steady, gripping the straps of her backpack. "You don't have to worry, Yeon Sieun. I won't come near you ever again in my damn life. Keep your problems."

She turned around and ran down the hallway, leaving him completely alone.

The following days were absolute hell.

She kept her promise to the letter. The next day, she didn't sit near him in class. When lunchtime came, instead of going to the rooftop where she always hung out with Sieun, Humin, Gotak, and Juntae, she went to eat alone in the library.

Tuesday was the same. When Sieun walked down the hallway and spotted her in the distance, she would immediately turn around and walk the other way. If they somehow ended up in the same space, she ignored him with such coldness that it made the atmosphere awkward for everyone else.

Humin noticed right away.

"Hey, Sieun," the brown-haired boy said on the rooftop Wednesday, chewing on a piece of bread. "What did you do to her? She hasn't come to eat with us for three days, and this morning I saw her hide in the girls' bathroom just so she wouldn't run into you on the stairs."

Sieun was sitting on an old wooden crate, staring at a textbook he hadn't read a single page of in the last twenty minutes. His expression was as stoic as ever, but inside, he was going absolutely insane.

He wasn't angry at her. He never had been. He was angry at himself—terrified.

When he saw the girl step in front of Hyoman, all Sieun saw was Sooho falling in the middle of the ring. He saw another person he cared about getting hurt because of him. The fear of losing someone else made him explode in anger to push her away from danger.

But his words came out as an attack on her pride, and he ended up hurting her far more.

The silence between the two of them was killing him. He missed how she always left a carton of strawberry milk on his desk in the mornings. He missed her voice. He missed her teasing him about always studying.

"It's nothing," Sieun lied, slamming the book shut. "She'll get over it."

But she didn't get over it.

Thursday came. The girl was emptying her locker at the end of classes. The sky was gray and it was starting to pour outside, making the hallways feel darker than usual.

She shut the metal door of her locker, and when she turned around, her heart nearly leaped out of her chest.

Sieun was standing there. Just a couple of meters away, blocking the path to the main stairs. His hands were in his pants pockets, his dark bangs falling over his eyes, and he was staring straight at her.

The girl felt a pang in her stomach. She missed him, of course she did, but she was still deeply hurt by the way he'd yelled at her. She pressed her lips together, grabbed her backpack, and started walking toward him, intending to pass right by him as if he were just another piece of school furniture.

But when she tried to step around him, Sieun took a step sideways, cutting her off.

She frowned and stepped to the left. Sieun moved left, blocking her again.

"Move," she grunted, without looking him in the face.

Sieun didn't budge. "We need to talk."

"No, we don't. You told me not to come near you, and that's exactly what I'm doing. I'm very good at following orders. Now, move," she demanded, her voice full of all the resentment she'd built up over those four days.

Seeing that Sieun had absolutely no intention of getting out of her way, the girl turned on her heel and started walking fast in the opposite direction, toward the old hallway where the rarely used classrooms were. She wanted to reach the back stairs to escape him.

But Sieun wasn't going to let her go this time. He started following her. His steps were silent but quick.

The girl, realizing he was chasing her, sped up almost to a trot. She entered the old hallway. It was completely empty and silent. She spotted a classroom door wide open. She figured if she went in there and exited through the back door of the same classroom, she could lose him.

She ducked into the empty classroom. The chairs were stacked up on the desks, but her plan was a total disaster.

Before she could reach the other door, she heard the sound of the main door closing behind her. And then, the unmistakable sound of the metal lock clicking shut.

She spun around.

Sieun had just locked the door. He was leaning against the wood, breathing a little harder than normal, watching her with an intensity that made her step back on pure instinct.

"What the hell are you doing, Yeon Sieun? Open the door!" she yelled, dropping her backpack onto one of the chairs.

Sieun pushed himself off the door and started walking toward her. His face was deadly serious. "I'm not opening it until you stop running from me. You've been ignoring me for four days."

"Because you told me to go to hell!" she shot back, feeling the frustration rising in her throat again. "You yelled at me. You made me feel like I was some stupid nuisance just for trying to keep that gorilla from breaking your face. And now you lock me in a classroom because I'm not paying attention to you? You're a hypocrite."

She tried to sidestep him to reach the door and undo the lock, but Sieun was much faster. In a sudden, agile movement, Sieun grabbed her by the waist with both hands. She let out a choked gasp of surprise when she felt him lift her off the floor with incredible ease, as if she weighed absolutely nothing.

Before she could protest or kick him, Sieun plopped her down onto one of the student desks.

They were face to face. With her sitting on the desk, their faces were at exactly the same height. Sieun stepped forward, positioning himself between her legs so she couldn't jump off the desk. He placed both hands on the wood, on either side of the girl's hips, completely cornering her.

"Put me down, Yeon Sieun," she demanded, her breathing ragged from the surprise and from the sudden closeness of his body. Her heart started pounding hard. She could smell the soap he used, she could almost feel the heat radiating from his body through their school uniforms.

"No," he replied, curtly.

Sieun looked her in the eyes, and for the first time all week, the girl saw that the barrier he always wore had shattered. His dark eyes looked vulnerable, tired, and desperate.

"I didn't yell at you because you were a nuisance," Sieun began, his voice dropping to a much rougher, softer tone, almost a whisper blending with the sound of the rain. "I yelled at you because I almost went insane from panic."

The girl frowned, confused, stopping her struggle. "Panic? About what?"

Sieun clenched his jaw, dropping his gaze for a second to her hands resting on the edge of the desk, before looking back into her eyes.

"When I saw you step in front of Hyoman... my mind stopped working," Sieun confessed. Every word seemed to cost him enormous effort, because he didn't like talking about his feelings. "I know how to fight. I can take hits. But you can't. Hyoman could've broken your jaw with one punch. He could've seriously hurt you. And if something had happened to you because of me... if you'd gotten hurt trying to protect me... I would've killed myself."

The girl's breath caught. All the anger she'd been feeling evaporated in a single blow, replaced by a knot of tenderness and sadness. She knew what had happened to Sieun's best friend in the past. She knew he lived with that trauma every single day of his life.

"I can't lose anyone else," Sieun continued, bringing his face a little closer to hers, his eyes shining with a painful intensity. "And least of all you. I was so scared that the only thing I knew to do was yell to push you away. I was an idiot. I was a complete asshole for how I spoke to you, and I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. But please... don't ignore me again. I swear these four days have been absolute torture."

The girl's eyes filled with tears, but this time they weren't from anger. She raised her trembling hands and, with great gentleness, cupped Sieun's face. His cheeks were a little cold, but she didn't care. She stroked his skin with her thumbs.

"You're the biggest idiot in this whole school, you know that?" she whispered, her voice cracked, but with a small smile creeping onto her lips.

Sieun let out a sigh, as if he'd been holding his breath for four straight days, and rested his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes, savoring the simple contact of her hands on his face.

"I know," he murmured. "Just... don't put yourself in danger for me again."

"And don't you ever yell at me again, because next time I'll be the one hitting you," she warned him, though the tone of her voice was pure sweetness.

Sieun opened his eyes and looked at her. Their gazes met, and in that instant, the atmosphere completely shifted. There was no more fear or anger. There was a built-up electricity that both of them had been ignoring for months.

Sieun didn't think anymore. He didn't want to talk anymore.

He tilted his head and crashed his lips against hers.

The girl let out a small gasp of surprise at the urgency of the movement, but immediately closed her eyes and kissed him back with the same intensity. Sieun released the edge of the desk and slid his hands up her waist, pulling her forcefully against his body so there wasn't a single centimeter of space between them.

The kiss was clumsy at first, full of desperation. Their teeth knocked together, but they quickly found their rhythm. Sieun kissed her as if she were oxygen and he'd been drowning all week. He parted her mouth a little more, slipping his tongue inside to deepen the kiss, tasting the faint sweetness she always had.

The girl tangled both hands in Sieun's soft, dark hair, tugging slightly at the strands at the nape of his neck, which drew a low, deep groan from the back of his throat. That sound made her legs tremble.

The empty classroom filled with the sound of the rain outside and the wet noise of their mouths kissing desperately.

Sieun was completely out of control, something extremely rare for him. His hands, always so precise, now roamed the girl's back with pure need, gripping the fabric of her uniform, sliding down to grab her firmly by the hips to keep her pressed against him on the desk.

They pulled apart just a few millimeters from the urgent lack of air, both breathing through their mouths, their chests rising and falling rapidly.

"God..." Sieun panted, staring at her swollen, wet lips, feeling his head spin in the best possible way.

"Shut up..." she whispered back, grabbing him by the lapels of his school blazer and pulling him in to kiss him again.

This time, the kiss was slower but far hotter. Sieun tilted his head, searching for a better angle, carefully biting her lower lip before sliding his tongue back in. One of the boy's hands slipped from her hip to her thigh, squeezing it over her uniform skirt, which made the girl instinctively arch her back and let out a small sigh into his mouth.

They stayed there, locked in that old classroom, kissing until their lips ached and the cold of the room disappeared completely thanks to the warmth of their bodies. All the anger of the week burned away on that desk.

When the final bell finally rang through the school speakers, signaling it was time for the janitorial staff to close the building, they had no choice but to pull apart completely.

Sieun rested his forehead against her shoulder, trying to calm his racing breath and the frantic pounding of his own heart. She stroked his back, smiling like a fool, her hair completely disheveled and her cheeks flushed.

"I guess you don't hate me anymore," Sieun murmured against her neck, pressing a quick, soft kiss to the exposed skin of her collarbone, tickling her.

"I never hated you, you idiot," she laughed, gently pushing him back by the chest so she could look at him. "But you owe me like a thousand cartons of strawberry milk for the stress you put me through."

Sieun straightened up. His bangs were still a little messy, and his lips were noticeably red, which made him look a hundred times more handsome than usual. That tiny, almost invisible smile he reserved only for her appeared on his face.

Suho was the exact definition of someone who had absolutely everything without lifting a single finger. He was handsome, popular for reasons even he didn't understand, the best fighter in the entire school, and, to her absolute misery, a natural athlete.

One day, during the physical fitness tests at the start of the year, the gym teacher made them run the hundred-meter dash. She prepared as if it were the Olympic finals. She stretched every muscle in her legs, did breathing exercises, and got into position at the starting line with flawless technique. Suho, on the other hand, had his uniform sloppy, his school shoes barely tied, was yawning loudly, and hadn't even bothered to warm up.

When the whistle blew, she ran with everything she had, pushing her body forward with the strength of years of training. But within seconds, she saw a brown blur pass by on her left side. Suho crossed the finish line nearly two full seconds before her, slowing down with a relaxed smile, not even sweating or breathing through his mouth.

"Wow, that was so fun!" he had said, scratching the back of his neck lazily, while she stayed behind, panting, feeling her pride shatter into a thousand pieces on the track floor.

From that damn day on, she developed an intense, one-sided rivalry against Ahn Suho.

She hated him. Or well, that's what her brain tried to convince her of every day. She hated that he didn't care about running. She hated that he wasn't on the school track team, that he didn't put in the slightest effort, that for him being fast was just a game while for her it was the purpose of her entire existence.

It was so infuriating to watch him do everything perfectly without trying that she simply decided to put up a wall between them.

The huge problem was that, underneath that distant facade she had so carefully constructed, she liked Ahn Suho. She liked him a lot. His bright, boyish smile drove her crazy, his loud laugh echoing through the hallways made her stomach flip, and the fierce way he defended the weaker kids from bullies was the most attractive thing in the world to her.

But her wounded pride and her massive jealousy over the guy's natural talent were far bigger than any romantic feelings she might have.

So she decided the best way to deal with Ahn Suho was to avoid him like the worst plague on earth.

A task that, unfortunately, became nearly impossible thanks to her own friends.

To most of the students at school, she was known as a girl with a cold, serious, and very distant demeanor. No one dared bother her because she always had her earbuds in or was too focused on her training. But she had a giant weakness, a soft spot she reserved for only two people: Yeon Sieun and Oh Beomseok.

She respected Sieun deeply for how calm and studious he was. They would often sit together in complete silence, him reading a massive book and her resting after a run, enjoying each other's company without needing to fill the air with words. And Beomseok... he was so shy, insecure, and quiet that her protective instincts just kicked in full force whenever he was near.

She always treated them with immense sweetness, a sweetness that left the other students with their mouths hanging open. She bought them drinks during breaks, lent them her class notes, and spoke to them in a soft voice that absolutely no one else at school knew.

It was a Thursday at lunchtime. The sun was shining brightly and the weather was pleasant. The three of them were sitting on the empty bleachers near the soccer field. She had a small smile on her face, a rare expression, as she pulled things out of her bag.

"You should eat a little more, Beomseok," she said, handing him a sweet melon bun she'd bought especially for him at the cafeteria. "You've been looking really thin lately. If you don't eat well, you're going to faint and you won't have any energy for afternoon classes."

Beomseok blushed a little, nervously adjusting his glasses, but took the plastic-wrapped bun with a shy, grateful smile. "Th-thank you. You're always so kind..."

Sieun, who was sitting to his left reading a thick history book, glanced up for a second. Without a single word, she pulled a carton of strawberry milk from her backpack and placed it directly on his lap. Sieun blinked slowly, looked at the pink carton, and then looked at her.

"Thank you," Sieun murmured, in his usual monotone, emotionless voice, but she knew perfectly well he appreciated it.

The atmosphere among the three of them was perfect. It was a safe, quiet space. Until a shout, full of energy and enthusiasm, shattered the peace of the field.

"SIEUN-AH! BEOMSEOK! There you are, I've been looking everywhere for you!"

The metal fence gate surrounding the field burst open. Ahn Suho came walking toward them in his typical sloppy uniform, shirt untucked, a giant smile lighting up the whole area, and that hyperactive puppy energy that defined him so well.

The exact instant she heard his voice, the sweet smile on her face vanished completely. It was like someone had flipped a light switch. Her expression immediately turned cold, tense, and distant. She grabbed her backpack from the concrete floor almost on pure instinct.

Suho climbed the bleachers taking the steps two at a time, without the slightest effort. When he saw her sitting there with his two best friends, his dark eyes lit up with excitement. Suho had always been incredibly drawn to that girl. He found it fascinating how serious she was, how hard she worked running on the track every single day, and, above all, he loved how beautiful she looked when the wind ruffled her hair.

He genuinely, truly wanted to be her friend. He wanted to get close to her, he wanted to make her laugh the way she did with Beomseok, but he couldn't figure out why she always treated him like garbage.

"Hi!" Suho greeted her first, stopping in front of the bleachers and running a hand through his messy hair. "What a coincidence finding you here too. Are you all having lunch together? I brought a couple of sandwiches from the store, we can share and—"

She didn't let him finish. She stood up abruptly, slinging the heavy backpack onto her right shoulder.

"I just remembered I have important things to do," she said, her voice flat, staring at a fixed point on the wall so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye. "I'm going to the track to train alone. See you later, Sieun, Beomseok."

She didn't wait for any of the three to answer. She went down the bleachers quickly, passing right by Suho, brushing his shoulder but completely ignoring his existence, and walked away fast toward the other side of the school campus.

Suho stood there on the stairs, his hand still half-extended offering the bag of sandwiches, blinking a few times in pure confusion. His bright smile deflated completely, his shoulders dropping, looking like a big puppy who'd just been scolded for absolutely no reason. He let his arm fall to his side and let out a long sigh, dropping heavily into the spot on the bleachers she'd just left empty.

"What did I do wrong this time?" Suho asked, looking at Sieun with genuine frustration on his face. "I didn't even say anything bad to her. I swear. I just said hi and offered food. Why does she hate me so much? I swear I always try to be nice to her. Yesterday I bought her a drink and she told me she wasn't thirsty, but five minutes later I saw her drinking water from the fountain tap!"

Beomseok looked down at the ground, fidgeting with the bun wrapper, feeling bad for the guy but not knowing what to say to comfort him. Sieun closed his history book, took a sip of strawberry milk through the straw, and looked at Suho with his typical bored, direct expression.

"It's pretty obvious why she avoids you all the time," Sieun said, getting straight to the point the way he always did.

"Why? Tell me! If I'm too loud, I can be quieter. If she doesn't like the way I smell, I can change soap or wear cologne. I just want her to talk to me the way she talks to you two!" Suho complained, letting himself fall backward on the bleachers, staring at the clouds in the sky with desperation. "I like her so much. I really, really like her. But I feel like if I take one single step closer to her, she's going to punch me right in the face."

Sieun sighed softly, shaking his head. "She doesn't hate you because you're loud or annoying, Suho. She avoids you because you're faster than her without even trying. Her ego is wounded because she works incredibly hard and you don't. You have to fix this yourself; we can't get involved in that."

Suho fell silent, thinking about those words for the rest of the afternoon, processing the information in his mind.

The next day, fate seemed to decide it wanted to make things even more tense between them.

It was the last class block of the day: PE. The teacher, a man who loved competitions, had organized relay races and speed trials on the school's official track. She was wearing her black athletic shorts, her white moisture-wicking t-shirt, and her running shoes laced tight. She was sweating, stretching, and warming up her leg muscles, ready to give it her all on the track.

But when the teacher paired everyone up for the big final 400-meter race, she felt the blood boil in her veins.

She was set to run, once again, against Ahn Suho.

Suho walked slowly toward the white starting line painted on the tartan track. He was wearing the school gym uniform, but as always, he looked like he was taking a stroll in the park. He glanced at her sideways and gave her a small, nervous, guilty smile, trying to be friendly and soften the obvious tension radiating off her.

She ignored him. She locked her gaze on the curved track stretching out ahead of her. Not today, she thought furiously, clenching her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms. Today I'll break my damn legs if I have to, I'll cough up blood, but I am not letting this idiot beat me again while he yawns.

"On your marks..." the teacher shouted, raising the whistle.

She crouched down, pressing her fingertips onto the rough ground, lifting her hips into the perfect starting position. Suho, beside her, simply stayed standing, bending his knees slightly with zero technique.

"Go!"

The sound of the whistle cut through the air. She shot forward like a bullet out of a cannon. Her sneakers slammed against the tartan track. She used absolutely all her technique, remembering every tip from her coach: every measured breath, every arm movement calculated to perfection to cut through wind resistance, driving her knees up with power. She was leading the race.

But when she hit the 200-meter curve, she heard the sound of footsteps right behind her. They weren't heavy footsteps. They weren't the footsteps of someone getting tired. They were light. Surprisingly quick and rhythmic.

Suho pulled up alongside her in the outer lane. She couldn't help but glance at him sideways for a split second.

He wasn't breathing desperately through his mouth. He didn't look like he was suffering at all. He was just running, keeping exactly the same pace as her with a natural ease that sent a sharp pain through the pit of her stomach. It was infuriating.

The sheer frustration instantly turned into pure fuel for her body. She gritted her teeth until her jaw hurt and forced her body to go far beyond its physical limit. Her lungs burned as if she were swallowing fire, and her calves screamed in pain. There were barely fifty meters left to the finish line. Suho was beside her, nearly shoulder to shoulder, but she refused to give in. She wasn't going to let him win. Not this time. Not in front of the whole class.

She closed her eyes for a microsecond, gave one last desperate push, and lunged forward, breaking the wind with her chest.

She crossed the finish line.

An instant, barely a fraction of a second later, Suho crossed it.

She collapsed to the ground immediately, bracing her hands on her trembling knees, breathing loudly and desperately. She was dizzy, her vision was a little blurry, and she was drenched in cold sweat, but she had done it. She had won. She had beaten Ahn Suho for the first time in her life.

She expected, knowing guys their age, that he'd be angry. She expected him to complain loudly, to kick the ground, or to demand a rematch right away because his fragile guy ego was wounded.

But when she looked up, still trying to catch her breath, she saw Suho walking toward her. He was barely panting a little, running a hand through his messy hair. He had a huge, bright, and completely genuine smile on his sweaty face.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, stopping a couple of meters in front of her, clapping a few times with childish and sincere enthusiasm. "You were incredible today! You're super fast, seriously! I swear, I tried to keep up with you at the end but you completely left me behind. Congratulations, that was awesome to watch!"

That reaction. That damn reaction was the straw that broke the camel's back of all her frustrations.

That happy, totally carefree attitude shattered her on the inside. He didn't care in the slightest about having lost. He didn't care about running, he didn't care about the competition. He was just clapping and smiling at her as if the whole thing were a stupid children's game.

For her, winning that race had cost pain, hours of practice, cramps at dawn, and constant sacrifices. For him, losing meant absolutely nothing.

The hatred, the jealousy, the frustration, and that stupid secret crush she had on him mixed together in her chest, creating a fireball until she felt a horrible urge to cry from pure rage and helplessness.

She didn't say thank you. She didn't even spare him a small victorious smile.

She straightened up as best she could, shot him a look full of contempt and fury, and walked straight toward the PE equipment room, searching for a dark, empty place to hide from the world and from him.

Suho stood frozen in the middle of the track, arms at his sides. The bright smile vanished completely from his face, replaced by a grimace of worry. He watched the girl walk away at a fast pace, her shoulders tense and her fists clenched.

The advice Sieun had given him the day before echoed loudly in his head. You have to fix this yourself.

Suho clenched his jaw, left his classmates murmuring behind his back, and walked with quick, long, determined strides after her.

She reached the equipment room, a small, dusty room that smelled of rubber, full of blue gym mats, worn-out basketballs, and stacked plastic cones. She went in quickly, trying to calm her still-labored breathing and wipe away with the back of her hand the stupid tears of frustration that threatened to spill from her eyes.

But before she could even relax for a second in the darkness, the heavy metal door slammed shut behind her with a dry thud. She jumped in fright and spun around quickly.

Ahn Suho was standing in front of the closed door. He was no longer smiling. His expression was completely serious, and there was a shadow of frustration in his dark eyes that she had never, in all the time she'd known him, seen before. He was much taller than her, and standing there in the cramped space, blocking the only exit from the room, he looked incredibly intimidating.

"Let me out of here, Ahn Suho," she demanded, trying to make her voice sound cold and authoritative, though it trembled a little from the leftover exhaustion of the race and the lump in her throat.

Suho didn't move a single inch. He leaned his broad back against the metal door and crossed his arms, blocking the way completely.

"No. I'm not letting you out until you tell me what the hell your problem with me is once and for all."

"I don't have a problem with you. Move away from the door right now."

She walked toward him, ready to shove him aside to reach the handle, but Suho was much faster. He grabbed her wrist firmly, without hurting her, but with enough strength to stop her in her tracks. He made her step back toward the center of the room.

"Okay, enough of this," he said, raising his voice a little, letting the frustration come to light. "What did I do to you? Tell me, please, just tell me what I did to make you treat me like this every single day. I swear on my life all I've ever tried to do is be your friend. I try to get close to you, I talk to you politely, I try to include you in plans, and you look at me like I'm the worst piece of trash walking around this school. You run away from me like I have a contagious disease, but then I watch from a distance how you smile and are so sweet with Sieun and Beomseok. Why can't I get that too? Why do you hate me so much?"

She stood frozen in place. Suho was genuinely hurt. His voice sounded desperate and broken.

She tried to free herself from his grip, pulling her arm, but he didn't let go.

"Because it's unfair!" she burst out suddenly. Her voice echoed off the walls of the small equipment room, full of anger, resentment, and tears. "Because it's fucking unfair!"

Suho was so shocked by her outburst that he loosened his grip on her wrist almost immediately, but he stood firm in front of the door. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how I kill myself training every single damn day, Ahn Suho!" she yelled at him, shoving his chest with both hands with all her strength, making him stumble back half a step until his back hit the metal. "I get up at five in the morning to run alone in the cold! Every single muscle in my body hurts all the time! I diet, I train until I want to throw up from the effort, I dedicate my whole life, every second of my free time, to being the fastest on that track. For me, running isn't a hobby, it's not a gym class game. It's everything I have!"

She was breathing heavily, and thick tears began to roll down her flushed cheeks without her being able or willing to stop them. She was sick of hiding.

"And then you show up..." she continued, her voice dropping, cracking into a sob full of pure helplessness. "You show up to the track dragging your feet, yawning from sleep, not even warming up for a minute, in your stupid regular shoes... and you're faster than me. You're better than me without even really trying. Everything comes easy to you. You're the perfect guy, the best fighter, the fastest. You don't put in effort, you don't care at all, and you still beat me every time. And today... today when I finally felt like I broke my legs managing to beat you, what do you do? You applaud me like it's a damn joke! It didn't even hurt you to lose!"

Suho stared at her with wide eyes, completely in shock. Never, in all the time they'd been crossing paths in the hallways, had it occurred to him that that was the real reason behind her constant rejection. He had thought of a thousand reasons: that she disliked his loud personality, that she considered him a delinquent for fighting, not that his natural talent for sports was hurting her this deeply.

"I hate it..." she whispered, lowering her head, feeling pathetic, envious, and small for crying a river in front of him. "I hate that you're so perfect. I hate that you make me feel like all my damn effort is worth absolutely nothing next to your natural talent. And what I hate most... is that despite all of this, I can't help liking you so much."

The equipment room fell silent. The only sound was her small sobs, her face now covered with both hands, ashamed of having let the last confession slip out in a fit of hysteria. She wrapped her arms around herself, waiting for Suho to laugh at her. She expected him to tell her she was crazy, that she was an immature, envious brat, and to open the door and leave and never speak a word to her again.

"I didn't know..." Suho finally murmured. His voice was incredibly soft now, stripped of all frustration.

"Well, now you do. Now let me out of here," she pleaded, her voice broken, not daring to lift her gaze from the floor.

But Suho didn't move toward the handle. Instead, he took a step forward. He closed the small distance between them until he was millimeters from her trembling body.

He lifted a large hand and, with a gentleness that didn't fit at all with the guy who threw punches with bare knuckles if someone made him angry enough, dried a tear from her left cheek with the pad of his thumb. The contact of his warm skin against hers made her breath catch in her throat.

"You're wrong about something really important," Suho said, looking her straight in the teary eyes with an intensity that made her shiver completely. "Today, in the race, I wasn't faking it. I gave my hundred percent in the final meters. I tried to catch up to you with everything I had, I swear, but I just couldn't. You beat me fair and square."

She opened her eyes wide, surprised, her damp lashes trembling. "What?"

"You beat me," he repeated, with a small, proud, sincere smile that lit up his features. "Because I might have a bit of genetics and natural talent for moving fast, but I don't have your endurance. I don't have your technique, and I definitely don't have your willpower. You built your speed by breaking your back every single day under the sun. I could never, not in a million years, do what you do. That's why I clapped for you at the finish line. I swear I wasn't making fun of you. I was amazed. I've always admired you so much for how hard you work."

She was speechless. All the rage she'd been accumulating for months in her chest began to evaporate, exposing the real feeling she had tried to bury under layers of anger.

Suho lowered his hand from her cheek and took her left hand, intertwining his long fingers with hers slowly, securing the grip.

"Besides... I'm far from being perfect," he continued, lowering his voice to a rough whisper, leaning a little closer until she could smell his cologne mixed with the sweat from the race. "I'm a total idiot most of the time, I talk too much, and I'm always getting into trouble. And I've been suffering for months, feeling like a total loser, because the most incredible, most beautiful girl in the entire school ran away from me every time I tried to just say a simple hello."

Her heart leaped inside her ribcage. "You..." she stammered, feeling an immense heat rising up her neck and staining her cheeks red.

"I thought you genuinely hated me," Suho whispered, dropping his gaze to her parted lips for a second before looking back into her dark eyes.

The proximity, his confession, and the sweet way he was holding her hand made her stupid wall of pride collapse completely and turn to dust. She couldn't keep lying anymore. She didn't want to keep running from him anymore.

"I don't hate you, Suho..." she confessed, her voice barely a trembling murmur in the closed room. "I've never actually hated you."

Suho arched an eyebrow, a small, mischievous smile creeping up the corner of his lips, bringing back a bit of his usual playful attitude. "Oh, no? Then why do you always look like you want to stab me whenever I show up with the guys?"

She let out a small, nervous laugh, feeling incredibly stupid for her childish behavior, but at the same time immensely freed from the weight she'd been carrying.

"Because... I hate that I like you so much and that, at the same time, you make me feel like a loser when we run together. I wanted to hate you. For my brain, it was much easier to make up that I hated you than to admit out loud that every time you smile I feel like I can't breathe."

Suho's reaction was immediate and spectacular.

Sheer surprise lit up his face completely. His eyes opened impossibly wide, shining with a mix of shock, relief, and a happiness so huge it seemed like it didn't fit in his own body. The hyperactive, strong, loud guy was, for the first time, at a loss for words.

"Wait a second..." Suho swallowed audibly, squeezing her hand tighter. "You like me? You meant that? You really like me?"

She nodded slowly, biting her lower lip, too embarrassed to dare say it out loud a third time.

Suho let out a raspy laugh, not mocking, but of pure, absolute disbelief. He let go of her hand, but only so he could lift both arms and cup her face between his large, warm hands.

"Damn it, I lost entire months of my life thinking you wanted to murder me in my sleep," he murmured, his face just inches from hers. His smile was so big it wrinkled the corners of his eyes from sheer happiness.

Before she could process what was happening or respond to the joke, Suho leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers with urgency.

It was a quick and cautious kiss at first, as if he were testing the waters, making sure it was real and not a dream. But when he felt her close her eyes, sigh softly, and kiss him back shyly, lifting her own hands to cling to his broad shoulders, the kiss changed. It turned much deeper, desperate, and comforting. Suho's hands caressed her cheeks with his thumbs, pulling her body closer to his, making her completely forget the smell of dust and cheap plastic in the equipment room, making her forget the exhaustion from the race.

In that instant, the entire universe shrank down to Ahn Suho, the guy who drove her crazy, the talented guy, and the guy who, without even having to try, had stolen her heart completely.

When they finally had to pull apart from lack of air, both were breathing heavily, but Suho couldn't wipe the goofy grin off his face. He leaned his forehead against hers, tenderly stroking her dark hair, still damp with sweat.

"Starting today, I promise to run way slower if it means you won't run away from me during breaks," he whispered, joking under his breath, his eyes half-closed.

She gave him a small punch to the chest with her closed fist, though she couldn't help smiling too, feeling a warmth in her stomach. "If you dare let me win on purpose, I swear on my life I'll break your nose myself, Ahn Suho. I want you to run with everything you've got. And I guarantee I'll keep beating you fair and square."

Suho let out another bright, loud laugh, stealing another quick kiss from her lips.

Geum Seongje was, in every sense of the word, completely deranged.

Everyone in the district knew it. The thugs from other schools trembled just hearing his name. His reputation in the Union, under Na Baekjin's command, was built on broken bones and sadistic smiles.

Seongje enjoyed violence. He enjoyed the sound of someone's nose breaking under his fist. He had no empathy, no mercy, and definitely no patience.

But there was one exception to all his twisted rules. Just one.

Her.

Their relationship was the best-kept secret in all of Seoul. No one in the Union, not even his closest subordinates, knew she existed. Seongje had personally made sure of that.

In his world, showing weakness was a death sentence. If his enemies discovered that the great Geum Seongje had a girlfriend, they would go after her without hesitation to use her against him.

And Seongje couldn't allow that. Because she wasn't part of his world.

She went to a different school, an academy that seemed quiet and normal. She was shy, studious, and whenever she was with him, she always wore a sweet smile. Seongje saw her as something fragile, something pure that he needed to keep far away from the blood and filth of his own life.

That's why his dates were always low-profile: late-night walks, dinners in distant restaurants, or nights in his apartment where no one could bother her.

He cared for her in his own rough but possessive way. And she always told him everything was fine. That school was going great, that her classes were boring but peaceful.

But it was all a damn lie.

And Seongje was about to find out in the worst possible way.

It was Thursday afternoon. Seongje was in a foul mood.

He had gone to collect money from a group of idiots who were late with their Union payments. Coincidentally, the meeting spot was just a few blocks from her school. He finished quickly, breaking a couple of ribs to make the message clear, and sent his subordinates back.

He decided to stay a while. Leaning against the wall of a filthy alley, he lit a cigarette, exhaling gray smoke into the cloudy sky. He thought about texting her to meet later, since she was nearby.

But before he could pull out his phone, he heard noises coming from behind an abandoned building at the end of the alley.

Teenage voices. Mocking laughter, a dull thud, and the sound of coins hitting the ground.

Seongje rolled his eyes. He hated kids playing at being thugs. Normally, he would have ignored them. It wasn't his problem if some losers were fighting over lunch money.

"This is all you brought?" a shrill, annoying girl's voice rang out. "I told you I wanted the cream bread from the downtown bakery, stupid. Are you deaf or just an idiot?"

"I-I'm sorry… they were sold out…" came a trembling, timid reply.

The cigarette nearly slipped from Seongje's fingers.

That voice.

He froze. His brain short-circuited for a split second. He knew that voice perfectly. It was the same voice that said "good morning" on the phone, the same voice that laughed at his sarcastic comments.

He dropped the cigarette and walked silently toward the back of the building, hiding behind a dumpster to see what was happening.

What he saw made his blood freeze, then boil.

There she was.

Kneeling on the dirty concrete. Her uniform stained with dust. In front of her stood four of her classmates: two girls and two boys. One boy was rummaging through her backpack, tossing her notebooks to the ground, while the leader girl sneered at her, clutching the little money she had.

She was the perfect target. The errand girl. The punching bag. She was the victim everyone trampled at school.

"You're useless," the girl spat, slapping her across the left cheek.

The sound echoed through the alley.

She lowered her head, curling into herself, trembling with fear. She didn't fight back. She didn't scream. She just let them hit her, as if she were completely used to it. As if it was her daily routine.

Seongje felt the world stop.

His mind filled with questions. Why hadn't she told him? Why did she always smile when he asked about school? How long had she been enduring this while he thought she was safe?

But the questions vanished quickly, replaced by something far more familiar to Geum Seongje: murderous, sadistic, uncontrollable rage.

One of the boys raised his foot to kick her in the stomach, mocking her.

But the blow never landed.

Before his foot could touch her, Seongje burst from hiding. With terrifying speed, he grabbed the boy by the collar and slammed him against the brick wall.

The impact was brutal. The boy spat blood instantly and collapsed, clutching his head and groaning in pain.

Silence fell over the alley.

She looked up, tears in her eyes, her cheek red, and felt her heart stop.

It was Seongje.

He was there. He had seen everything.

The other three froze, pale with terror. They recognized the jacket, the hair, and above all, the twisted, psychotic smile on Seongje's face.

"Well, well…" Seongje said, cracking his knuckles slowly. "Looks like the trash from this school has too much free time."

"G-Geum Seongje?!" stammered the other boy, backing into the trash cans. "W-we didn't do anything! We don't have problems with the Union!"

Seongje let out a dark, humorless laugh. He didn't look at them. He looked down at her.

She was paralyzed. The fear she felt for the bullies was nothing compared to the absolute panic of Seongje seeing her like this. Her biggest secret, her deepest shame, had just been exposed.

She knew how pathetic she was. She knew she was a coward who let herself be humiliated like a stray dog.

"No problems with the Union…" Seongje repeated, dragging out the words. Then he lifted his gaze, his eyes turning into black pits of madness. "But you've got a very, very big problem with me."

Without warning, he lunged forward. He grabbed the boy by the hair and kneed him in the face. The sound of cartilage breaking was sickening. The boy collapsed unconscious instantly.

The two girls screamed, trying to run.

But Seongje had no mercy. Not even for girls. He grabbed the leader by her backpack and threw her to the ground with brutal force. He leaned over, gripping her collar and lifting her slightly off the floor.

"What's wrong?" Seongje whispered, his sadistic smile inches from her terrified face. "Not so tough now? Where's that strength you use to slap people?"

"Please! Let me go!" she cried desperately.

Seongje looked at her with disgust and tossed her aside like garbage. He kicked her ribs, knocking the air out of her.

"Look at her again… breathe near her again, and next time I won't just break your face. I'll rip out your eyes and make you eat them," Seongje warned coldly. Those still conscious nodded frantically, crawling away like cockroaches.

When the bullies disappeared, limping and crying, silence returned.

Seongje stood with his back to her for a few seconds, his shoulders rising and falling as he tried to control the adrenaline and the urge to keep beating someone to death.

She was still on the ground, trembling uncontrollably, tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn't dare make a sound.

She waited for the moment he turned, looked at her with disgust, and told her that she made him sick. That she was a loser he didn't want anymore.

Seongje turned slowly.

He walked toward her. His footsteps echoed on the concrete.

He stopped in front of her. His tall, threatening figure cast a shadow. She shrank further, closing her eyes tightly, bracing for cruel words.

But instead, Seongje let out a long, heavy sigh. He crouched down, and without a word, took her arms and lifted her carefully.

"Seongje… I…" her voice broke into a sob.

"Shut up. Don't talk here," he cut her off sharply, making her flinch.

He picked up her notebooks, stuffed them back into her bag, slung it over his shoulder, grabbed her hand firmly, and pulled her out of the alley toward the car Na Baekjin had given him for "work," though Seongje clearly didn't care what it was for.

He opened the passenger door, pushed her gently inside, then got into the driver's seat.

He started the engine, locked the doors, and sped off.

Seongje drove fast, gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. His jaw was tense. He hadn't looked at her once since leaving the alley.

She sat curled up, hugging her knees, crying silently. Shame consumed her.

She had spent months pretending to be normal around him. Seongje was feared, strong, untouchable. What would he think now? She knew perfectly well. He'd think she was pathetic. A victim, good for nothing but errands. Surely he'd leave her. How could the great Geum Seongje be with the school's punching bag?

Finally, Seongje stopped abruptly near the Han River. He killed the engine.

The silence inside the car was suffocating.

"Explain," Seongje suddenly said. His voice was low, grave, demanding.

She swallowed hard, unable to meet his eyes. Her trembling hands were all she could look at.

"I'm sorry…" she managed between sobs. "I-I know you're going to leave me… I know I disgust you…"

Seongje frowned. He turned fully toward her, resting one arm on the back of her seat.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked, sounding genuinely confused and angry.

"That I'm pathetic!" she burst out, finally lifting her tear-filled eyes to his. "You saw it, Seongje! I'm a loser! I let them hit me, steal my money, treat me like trash. I don't fight back. I'm a punching bag. I'm exactly the kind of person you always mock!"

Silence filled the car again. Seongje stared at her, analyzing every word, every tear sliding down her face.

"And why the hell didn't you tell me?" he demanded, raising his voice slightly. "We've been together for months. I always ask how you're doing. You always say everything's perfect! Why did you lie to my face?"

"Because I was scared!" she cried, breaking down even more. "I was scared that if you found out, you'd think I'm weak and boring. You're strong, Seongje. Everyone fears you. If you knew I was the girl everyone humiliates… you'd be ashamed of me. You'd pity me."

At her confession, Seongje's expression shifted.

The fury he'd felt toward the bullies faded for a moment, replaced by frustration—and something else.

Something he almost never felt: guilt.

He had thought he was protecting her by keeping her hidden. He thought his world was the only dangerous one. It had never crossed his mind that in her "boring" school, parasites were making her life hell, and she was enduring it alone out of fear of his reaction.

He cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair in desperation.

Then he leaned forward, unbuckled her seatbelt in one swift motion, and pulled her into his arms, wrapping her tightly across the console.

The movement was so sudden she let out a small gasp, but the moment she felt his strong, warm arms around her, she collapsed completely, burying her face in his neck, sobbing until she couldn't breathe.

"You're a complete idiot…" Seongje whispered near her ear. His voice was still rough, but the way he held her, crushing her against his chest as if she were the most precious thing in the world, said otherwise.

"I-I'm sorry…" she cried.

"Shut up. Don't apologize for this," he scolded, his hand clumsy but firm as it stroked her hair. "Listen carefully, because I won't repeat it. I don't care if you're weak. I don't care if you can't fight. That's my job. I'm the monster, I'm the one who breaks bones. Got it?"

She pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes, still hiccupping from the sobs.

"But… don't I make you… ashamed?"

Seongje snorted, wiping her tears with his thumbs, careful when he touched the red mark on her cheek. Seeing it made his jaw clench with rage again.

"The only thing that pisses me off is that you didn't tell me sooner," he admitted. "It makes me sick to think of all the times those bastards touched you and I wasn't there to rip their arms off. Ashamed of you? Don't say stupid things. You're mine. You're the only thing in this damn world that really matters to me. And nobody—absolutely nobody—has the right to trample what's mine."

His words were raw, possessive, even frightening, but coming from Geum Seongje, they were the deepest, most sincere declaration of love possible.

He didn't judge her for being weak. On the contrary, his violent instinct to protect had ignited completely—just for her.

"Seongje… I don't want you to get into trouble at my school…" she murmured, feeling safer in his arms but still worried.

He smirked. That cold, dangerous smirk that defined him.

"Too late for that. Those idiots I left in the alley already got the message. But just in case, tomorrow I'm paying your school a little visit during lunch break," he said calmly, which was even more terrifying. "I'll make sure the whole damn academy knows who you belong to. No one will ever look at you wrong again. And if they do, I'll burn that school down with them inside."

Her eyes widened in alarm. "No! You can't burn the school!"

Seongje laughed. A rough, genuine laugh. He cupped her face and kissed her deeply, leaving her breathless and wiping away all her insecurities in one stroke.

"It was a metaphor. More or less…" he teased, brushing his nose against hers. "But I mean it. No more secrets. No more hiding you to protect you. Clearly, hiding didn't work. From now on, everyone's going to know you're mine. Let's see if anyone in this city is suicidal enough to lay a finger on you once they know Geum Seongje is your boyfriend."

She felt a massive weight lift off her shoulders. She leaned against his chest again, closing her eyes.

For the first time in months, she wasn't afraid anymore.

"Thank you, Seongje…" she whispered.

"You'd better not hide anything from me again, or I'll punish you myself," he warned, kissing her forehead. "And tomorrow you're giving me the list of names of everyone who treated you badly. Every single one."

"Seongje, it's not necessary, you scared them enough today…"

"Not negotiable," he snapped, starting the car again. "We're going to my place. I'll put ice on that cheek. And then you're going to eat properly, because I'm sure those parasites stole your lunch."

She smiled faintly, nodding as she settled back into the seat.

The school cafeteria was always a noisy mess, with the sound of metal trays clattering against plastic tables, students shouting over the last pieces of cake, and the echo of conversations blending into a constant buzz that gave anyone a headache.

But she didn’t mind the noise. She was sitting at her usual table, trying to focus on her lunch. In front of her was Sooho, her best friend, devouring his second tray of food as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

Sooho’s mouth was full of rice and meat, but that didn’t stop him from talking nonstop.

She stirred her soup with her chopsticks, distracted, her gaze drifting toward the cafeteria entrance every few seconds, searching for a particular figure.

A slightly shorter boy, with dark brown hair, slouched shoulders, and an expression that was always neutral. Yeon Sieun.

Sooho, who seemed focused only on his food, actually had the eyes of a hawk. He swallowed his bite, took a huge gulp of water, and slammed his cup down with a mocking grin.

“Your eyes are going to fall out if you keep staring at the door,” Sooho said, resting his chin on his hand. “Who are you waiting for so desperately? Santa Claus?”

She jumped in her seat, startled, her cheeks heating up. She quickly lowered her gaze to her soup.

“I wasn’t looking at the door,” she lied, trying to sound casual, though her voice came out higher than usual. “I was just thinking about… the history exam. Yeah. The history exam.”

Sooho burst out laughing, loud enough that a couple of students nearby turned to look.

“Please. You’re terrible at lying,” Sooho said, pointing his chopsticks at her face. “You’re waiting for Sieun. Again. Like every single day.”

“Shut up, Sooho!” she hissed, wide-eyed, panicking that someone might have overheard. “Don’t say it so loud.”

“Why not?” Sooho shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Everyone knows you’ve got that weird crush on him. It’s so obvious even the teachers notice. You turn red every time he breathes near you.”

“That’s not true. We’re friends. I see him as a friend,” she tried to defend herself, crossing her arms, though she knew it was a useless lie.

Sooho rolled his eyes, popped a sausage into his mouth, and kept going. Teasing her was his favorite pastime after eating and sleeping.

“Seriously, I don’t get it,” Sooho said, leaning forward with exaggerated confusion. “What exactly do you see in that guy?”

She frowned. “What do you mean, what do I see?”

“I mean it,” Sooho lowered his voice but kept his mocking tone. “It’s Yeon Sieun. He doesn’t talk unless he has to. He never smiles. He spends all day buried in physics or math books. He looks pale enough to have anemia, he’s short, and if the wind blows too hard, he might fall over… though yeah, we all know he hits like a maniac, but that’s not the point.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” she snapped, indignation flaring in her chest.

“It’s the truth!” Sooho laughed at her protective reaction. “He has no sense of humor. If you tell him a joke, he looks at you like you’re a lab rat that escaped its cage. He doesn’t get hints. He doesn’t care about girls, video games, or junk food. He only cares about grades and sleep. Do you really like someone that boring?”

That was the limit.

She could handle Sooho mocking her feelings. She could handle him saying she was obvious. But she wasn’t going to let him insult Yeon Sieun.

She dropped her chopsticks onto her tray with a sharp clatter, pressed her palms flat against the table, and leaned forward, her eyes blazing. Sooho blinked, surprised.

Then she started talking. Or rather, she launched into a completely unhinged monologue.

“You don’t know anything, Ahn Sooho,” she said, her voice rising without her realizing, forgetting they were in the middle of a crowded cafeteria. “Yeon Sieun isn’t weird. And he’s not boring! He’s the most incredible, fascinating, perfect person in this stupid school.”

Sooho’s mouth fell open, unsure whether to laugh or be scared.

“What do I see in him? I see everything!” she went on, waving her hands, months of bottled-up feelings spilling out. “First of all, his face. Have you even looked at his face properly? He’s gorgeous! Those big dark eyes, always so focused, and when he looks at you, it feels like he can read your soul. His lashes are so long. He’s adorable! He looks like an angry kitten all the time, and that makes him a million times more attractive!”

Sooho raised his eyebrows, sipping his juice, enjoying the show.

“And it’s not just his face!” she kept going, breathless. “I love how he is. I love that he’s quiet, because when he talks, you know it matters. I love that he’s so smart. It’s sexy. Do you know how sexy it is to watch someone solve a three-line math equation without blinking? It’s too much for me!”

She clutched her chest dramatically, her cheeks blazing red.

“You say he doesn’t smile, but that’s not true. I’ve seen him smile. It’s tiny, almost invisible, just for a second, but when you catch it, it feels like winning the lottery. And he’s so protective. He has a huge, loyal heart hidden behind that serious face.”

Sooho set his cup down, his mocking grin fading. He wasn’t looking at her anymore.

But she didn’t notice. She was at the peak of her frenzy, adrenaline pushing her confession out loud.

“I like him,” she admitted, fists clenched. “I like him so much I feel like I’m going crazy. He’s so damn cute I want to wrap him in a blanket and hide him in my room so no one else can see him. I don’t want any other girl near him. Sometimes I wish I could drop to my knees in the hallway, pull out a candy ring from a vending machine, propose to him right there, and make him mine forever! I want to marry him, Sooho! I want him to be my husband!”

She exhaled in a huge sigh, finally empty. Relief washed over her.

She leaned back in her chair, breathing hard. “Wow… I needed to say that out loud.”

She looked at Sooho, expecting him to laugh hysterically, call her crazy, or send her to therapy.

But Sooho wasn’t laughing. He was frozen, eyes wide, mouth open, chopsticks dropped.

And he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was locked on the space behind her shoulder.

Confused, she waved a hand in front of his face. “Sooho? What’s wrong? Did I say something too weird? Okay, yeah, the kidnapping and marriage part sounded intense, but you know me, I exaggerate…”

Sooho swallowed hard, then pointed behind her. “You… you should turn around.”

Her heart stopped. Slowly, like in a horror movie, she turned her head.

And there he was.

Less than half a meter away, standing right behind her chair, holding a tray of food. Yeon Sieun.

His posture was the same as always, shoulders slightly hunched, uniform neat. But his face…

He was staring at her, eyes wider than usual, lips pressed tight. His knuckles were white around the tray.

And worst of all, the tips of his ears were bright red.

He had heard everything.

Every single word.

The silence stretched for what felt like centuries.

Her soul left her body. Her brain short-circuited. She wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

She had to say something. Anything.

“H-hi, Sieun,” she squeaked, her voice like a terrified mouse.

Sieun blinked, glanced at his tray, then at Sooho—who was covering his mouth to keep from laughing—and finally back at her.

“Hi,” Sieun said, calm as always, though his ears betrayed him.

Act natural! her brain screamed.

She grabbed her chopsticks with trembling hands, picked up a big piece of kimbap, and shoved it into her mouth, planning to smile and pretend she’d been talking about an actor.

But panic betrayed her. The rice went down the wrong way.

She choked. Violently.

Coughing, clutching her throat, face turning purple.

Sooho jumped up. “Hey! Are you okay?!”

She couldn’t speak, tears streaming, pounding her chest.

Sooho slapped her back hard, nearly knocking her into her soup, but it worked. She gasped for air, wheezing, eyes watery.

“Drink water, idiot!” Sooho shoved a cup at her.

She gulped it down, coughing, alive but mortified.

“Just let me die,” she groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “Please, Sooho, hit me with a tray and let me die here.”

Sooho, relieved she wasn’t choking anymore, burst into uncontrollable laughter, doubling over.

She stayed hidden in her hands while Sooho laughed like a maniac in the middle of the cafeteria.

Then she heard the sound of a tray being set down on the table, right in the empty seat beside her.

Sieun hadn’t left.

He sat down calmly in the chair next to hers, arranging his chopsticks and spoon.

She peeked through her fingers. Sieun was right there, sitting beside her. His expression had returned to its usual neutrality, but the faint red tint on his ears and cheeks hadn’t faded.

He pulled a napkin from the dispenser, slid it across the table toward her elbows without looking her in the eye.

“Wipe… your eyes,” Sieun said softly, his voice low and almost gentle.

She lowered her hands slowly. Her eyes were red and watery from coughing. She looked at the napkin, then at him.

Sieun kept his gaze on his food, stirring rice with his spoon. He looked uncomfortable, but not disgusted or horrified by her outburst.

“Th-thank you,” she whispered, taking the napkin and drying her face, feeling like the clumsiest person alive.

Sooho finally calmed down, wiping away a tear of laughter, and leaned on his hands with a mischievous grin.

“Well… now that we’ve avoided a tragedy, and all the cards are on the table… Sieun.”

Sieun stopped stirring. “What?”

“I was wondering… since you’re going to be my best friend’s future husband, when’s the wedding? Should I rent a suit?” Sooho teased mercilessly.

She kicked Sooho under the table, hard enough to make him grunt. “Shut up!” she hissed, her face burning again.

She glanced at Sieun, expecting him to get up and leave with his tray.

But Sieun didn’t leave.

He stayed quiet for a few seconds, took a bite of food, chewed slowly, swallowed, then looked at Sooho.

“There’s no date yet,” Sieun said, completely serious.

Sooho’s eyes widened, then he burst out laughing again, clapping his hands.

She froze, her heart racing wildly.

Sieun turned his head slightly, meeting her eyes. His gaze was intense, making her breath catch.

“Though…” he added quietly, almost just for her, “I guess you’d have to get the candy ring from the vending machine first, right?”

And there it was.

That tiny, almost invisible smile she had described in her monologue. It flickered across his lips for a second before disappearing, but she saw it clearly.

He didn't waste time with long hellos. Suho grabbed your hand, pulling you along the path toward the rooms they let soldiers use for visits. His grip was tight, almost desperate. "Come on," he muttered, voice low. "I can't wait anymore."

You barely had time to catch your breath before he pushed open the door to his small room and tugged you inside. The second the door clicked shut, he had you against the wall. His mouth crashed into yours, hungry and rough like he'd been starving for this. His hands slid down your sides, grabbing your waist and pulling your body flush against his. You could feel how hard he already was through his uniform pants.

"Fuck, I missed you," he groaned between kisses. He didn't sound like the boy who left to serve his mandatory work. He sounded raw. His lips moved to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. You gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders. The room was plain. Bed, desk, locker, but none of that mattered. All you cared about was him.

Suho's hands were everywhere. He tugged your shirt up, palms sliding over your skin like he needed to touch every inch. You helped him pull it off, then went for his uniform jacket. Buttons came undone fast. Underneath, his body was still toned from training, maybe even harder now. You ran your hands over his chest, feeling the heat of his skin.

He walked you backward until your legs hit the bed. "Lie down," he said, voice thick. You did, watching as he stripped off the rest of his top. His eyes stayed locked on you the whole time. When he climbed over you, the weight of him felt so good.

He kissed you again, slower this time but still deep, tongue sliding against yours while his hand slipped under your skirt.

"You're already wet," he whispered against your mouth. His fingers rubbed over your panties, pressing the fabric against your clit. You moaned, hips twitching up. He pushed the panties aside and slid one finger inside you, then two, pumping them slow and steady. "So tight… been thinking about this pussy every night."

You reached down and palmed him through his pants. He was rock hard, throbbing under your touch. Suho hissed, grinding against your hand. "Want you so bad," you breathed. He didn't need more encouragement.

He pulled his fingers out and stripped the rest of his clothes off fast. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, tip already leaking. You licked your lips without thinking. Suho noticed. He gave you a crooked smile. "Later. Right now I need to be inside you."

He shoved your skirt up around your waist and yanked your panties down your legs. No time for full undressing. He spread your thighs wide and lined himself up. The first push made you both groan. He sank in deep, stretching you open. "Shit… so good," he muttered, forehead pressed to yours.

Suho started thrusting, hard and fast like he couldn't hold back. The bed creaked under you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his back. Every stroke hit deep, making sparks shoot through your body. His mouth found your tits, sucking on one nipple while he fucked you. You moaned louder, not caring if anyone outside might hear.

He flipped you over suddenly, pulling you up on all fours. His hand smacked your ass once, then he gripped your hips and slammed back in. This angle felt even deeper. You pushed back against him, meeting every thrust. "Harder," you gasped.

Suho growled and gave it to you. Skin slapped against skin. His hand reached around to rub your clit in quick circles. Your arms shook, pleasure building fast. "Gonna cum," you warned.

"Do it. Cum on my cock," he ordered, thrusting even faster.

You came hard, clenching around him, crying out his name. Suho fucked you through it, then pulled out and flipped you onto your back again. He stroked himself a few times, eyes dark. "Open your mouth."

"Love you," you whispered.

You did, and he came with a groan, thick ropes landing on your tongue and chest. He breathed heavy, looking down at you like he wanted to remember every second.

"Love you more," he answered,.

You lay tangled up after, sweaty and breathing hard. Suho traced patterns on your back with his fingers. "Don't wanna let you go," he said quietly.

The visit time was limited, but you had one more thing planned. Before you left, you pulled a small envelope from your bag and handed it to him. "For when I'm not here," you told him, cheeks a little warm.

He opened it. Inside was a Polaroid of you. Naked. On your bed at home, legs spread, one hand between your thighs, looking straight at the camera with that look you knew drove him crazy. On the back you'd written: "Think of me when you need relief. I'll be waiting for the real thing."

I stepped into the apartment, kicking off my shoes and dropping my bag by the door. My shoulders were killing me from the long day, and all I could think about was a hot shower and crashing into bed.

Suho was already home, I could hear the TV on low in the living room.

"Babe?" I called out, peeling off my jacket.

"In here," he answered. His voice was relaxed, a little tired too. I walked in and saw him on the couch in just sweatpants, no shirt, hair still messy from work. He looked up and smiled that soft smile that always made my stomach flip. "You look wiped."

"I am. Gonna shower real quick." I headed toward the bathroom, already pulling my shirt over my head.

The door clicked behind me, but before I could turn the water on, Suho pushed it open and slipped inside. "Mind if I join? I could use one too."

My heart picked up. We'd showered together before, but something about the way he was looking at me tonight felt different. Hungrier. I nodded, trying to play it cool even though my cheeks were already warm. "Yeah, sure."

He stepped closer while I finished undressing, his hands sliding around my waist from behind. His chest pressed against my back, warm skin on warm skin.

I could feel him already getting hard through his sweatpants. "Missed you all day," he murmured against my neck, kissing it lightly.

I turned around and kissed him properly, our mouths fitting together easy and familiar. His tongue slipped in, slow at first, then deeper. My hands ran up his chest, feeling the lean muscle for all that hard work he does.

Suho groaned quietly into my mouth when I tugged at his waistband. He helped me push his pants down, kicking them aside. We were both naked now, standing in the middle of the bathroom with the shower running hot, steam starting to fill the air.

"Get in," he said, voice a little rough.

I stepped under the spray first. The hot water felt so good on my sore muscles. Suho followed right after, closing the glass door behind him. Water cascaded over both of us, making his hair stick to his forehead. He looked ridiculously hot like this, wet, eyes dark, lips parted.

He grabbed the body wash and squeezed some into his hands, rubbing them together. "Turn around."

I did, facing the tile wall. His soapy hands started on my shoulders, massaging the tension away in firm circles. It felt amazing. He worked down my back, thumbs pressing along my spine. Then lower, cupping my ass, squeezing gently. I bit my lip when his fingers slipped between my cheeks, teasing.

"Suho..." I breathed.

"Relax," he whispered, kissing my shoulder blade. His hands moved around to my front, soaping up my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers until they were hard and sensitive. I leaned back against him, feeling his cock press against my lower back, fully hard now. He was thick and warm, twitching every time I moved.

I reached behind me and wrapped my hand around him, stroking slowly. The water made everything slick. Suho groaned, hips pushing forward into my grip. "Fuck, that feels good."

He rinsed the soap off me and spun me around, kissing me harder this time. Water poured over our faces but we didn't care. His hand slid down between my legs, fingers finding my clit right away. He rubbed in slow circles, then dipped lower, pushing one finger inside me. I was already wet, and not just from the shower.

"Always so ready for me," he muttered against my lips. He added a second finger, curling them just right. My knees felt weak. I held onto his shoulders, moaning into his mouth while he fingered me deep and steady.

I wanted more. I dropped down to my knees on the shower floor, the water beating on my back. Suho's cock was right in front of my face, flushed and leaking a little at the tip. I looked up at him as I took him in my mouth, sucking on the head first. He tasted clean from the water, skin hot. I bobbed my head, taking more of him each time, using my hand on what I couldn't fit.

"Shit, baby..." His hand went to my wet hair, not pushing, just holding. His thighs tensed every time I swirled my tongue around him. I loved how he sounded, breathy moans and quiet curses. I sucked harder, hollowing my cheeks, until he gently pulled me off.

"Stand up. I need to be inside you."

He turned me toward the wall again, hands on my hips. I braced myself, arching my back. Suho rubbed his cock against my pussy from behind, sliding it up and down, teasing my clit. Then he pushed in, slow at first, stretching me open. We both moaned at the same time. He felt so big like this, filling me completely.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groaned, bottoming out. He stayed still for a second, letting me adjust, kissing the back of my neck. Then he started moving, long, deep thrusts that made my tits bounce with each one. The sound of wet skin slapping mixed with the shower spray.

I pushed back against him, meeting every thrust. One of his hands reached around to play with my clit again, rubbing fast circles while he fucked me harder. My moans got louder, echoing off the tiles. "Suho... agh... right there..."

"Yeah? Like that?" He angled his hips and hit that perfect spot inside me. My legs started shaking. He wrapped an arm around my waist to hold me up, pounding into me steadily. Water ran down our bodies, making everything hotter and slipperier.

I came first, clenching around him hard, crying out his name. It hit me in waves, pussy pulsing. Suho kept going, fucking me through it, his breath ragged against my ear. "Good girl... so good."

He pulled out after a minute, turning me around to face him. "Leg up," he said, lifting my thigh. I hooked it around his hip. He slid back inside in one smooth thrust, deeper this way.

We were pressed chest to chest, kissing messily while he fucked me against the wall. My back kept hitting the tiles but it didn't hurt, it just grounded me while pleasure built again.

His pace got faster, more desperate. I could tell he was close. I clenched around him on purpose and he cursed, burying his face in my neck. "I'm gonna cum... where do you want it?"

"Inside," I gasped. "Please."

A few more hard thrusts and he groaned loud, hips stuttering as he came deep inside me. I felt every pulse, warm and full. He kept moving slowly through it, milking it out, until we were both breathing heavy.

We stayed like that for a bit, water still running, his cock softening inside me. Suho kissed me softly now, gentle and sweet. "You okay?"

"Mm-hmm. Really okay." I smiled, legs still shaky.

He pulled out carefully and grabbed the showerhead to rinse us both off. His hands were soft again, cleaning between my legs where his cum was starting to drip out mixed with the water. We laughed a little when I almost slipped, him catching me around the waist.

After we dried off, he carried me to the bed even though I said I could walk. We collapsed under the covers, naked and warm, my head on his chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my back.

"Shower was a good idea," I mumbled, already sleepy.

He noticed the way she looked at the ground when someone said something cruel. The way her shoulders curved inward like she was trying to take up less space. The way she didn't fight back, not because she was weak, but because she had learned that fighting only made it worse.

They grew up together. That was the strange part. He remembered her before. Before the world taught her to be quiet. She used to laugh so loud that her whole body shook. She used to grab his hand without asking and drag him places he didn't want to go. She used to be the loud one and he was the quiet one and that was just how it worked.

Then things changed.

Or maybe she changed. Or maybe the world changed around her and she had to shrink to fit inside it.

Sieun didn't know exactly when she stopped being the person who grabbed his hand. He just knew that one day, he looked at her and she was different. Softer in some ways. Harder in others.

She still smiled, but it was smaller. She still laughed, but it was quieter. She still walked with him every day, but from a distance now. Like she was afraid to stand next to him.

Like she was afraid someone would see them together and know something about her that she wasn't ready to share.

The bullying started in middle school.

Sieun remembered the first time he saw it. A group of boys in the courtyard, standing in a loose circle around her. They were laughing. She was not. Her face was pale and her hands were shaking and she was staring at the ground like she could make herself disappear if she tried hard enough.

He wanted to run over. He wanted to scream at them. He wanted to grab her hand and pull her away and never let go.

But she had told him, weeks before, in a voice so small he almost didn't hear it: "Don't. Please. If you try to help, they'll just do it more."

So he didn't.

He stood at the edge of the courtyard and he watched. And he hated himself for it. And he hated them. And he hated the world for making her feel like she had to face it alone.

After that, he started walking her home. Every day. No exceptions.

She never asked him to. He never offered. It just happened. One day he was walking in her direction and she was walking in his and they ended up side by side. The next day, he was waiting by the gate. The day after that, she was waiting for him.

They never talked about it. That was their way. They didn't talk about the important things. They talked about homework and teachers and the weather. They talked about everything except the things that actually mattered.

Sieun walked her home. She let him. And somewhere in between the school gate and her front door, he fell in love with her.

He didn't admit it to himself for a long time. He told himself it was just friendship. Just concern. Just the natural result of growing up next to someone, of knowing her face better than his own, of being able to predict her moods by the way she held her shoulders.

But then he would catch himself staring at her mouth. At the way her hair fell across her forehead. At the sound of her laugh, that smaller, quieter version of the laugh he remembered from childhood. And he would feel something in his chest that he couldn't name.

He still couldn't name it. Not out loud. Not to her.

So he kept his distance. Fifteen feet. Always fifteen feet.

The day it happened started like any other day.

Sieun was waiting for her by the gate. She came out a few minutes late, her backpack hanging off one shoulder, her eyes fixed on the ground. She didn't look up when she reached him. She never did anymore.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey."

They started walking. Not together. She walked ahead. He walked behind. Fifteen feet. The usual.

He watched the back of her head. Her hair was short, the way she liked it. She had told him once that short hair made her feel more like herself. He had nodded and pretended to understand, even though he didn't fully. Not because he didn't want to. Because he didn't know how to say that he saw her. The real her. The one underneath the fear and the silence and the careful way she moved through the world.

He saw her. And he loved her. And he was too scared to do anything about it.

They were halfway to her house when a teacher called his name.

"Sieun! Can you come here for a moment?"

He stopped. Looked at her back. She kept walking.

"Go ahead," she said without turning around. "I'll be fine."

He hesitated. The teacher called his name again. Impatient this time.

"I'll catch up," he said.

She didn't respond. She just kept walking, her shoulders hunched, her bag swinging. He watched her for a moment longer. Then he turned and walked toward the teacher.

It was a stupid meeting. Something about a form he had forgotten to sign. Something about a permission slip that was due tomorrow. He stood there, nodding, saying "yes, sir" and "no, sir" and "I'll bring it tomorrow, sir." All the while, his eyes kept drifting to the gate. To the street beyond. To the place where she had disappeared.

When the teacher finally let him go, twenty minutes had passed.

Twenty minutes.

Sieun walked fast at first. Then faster. Then he was almost running, his heart pounding in his chest for reasons he didn't want to examine too closely.

She's fine, he told himself. She's walked home alone before. She's fine.

But he didn't believe it.

He turned the corner onto her street. Her house was at the end, a small building with blue shutters and a garden that her mother tended on weekends. He could see it from where he stood.

She wasn't there.

She should have been there. She walked fast, but not that fast. Not twenty-minutes-fast. Not unless she had hurried. And she never hurried. She walked slowly, like she was trying to make the journey last as long as possible.

Sieun turned around. Started walking back the way he came. Maybe she had stopped somewhere. Maybe she had run into a friend. Maybe she had forgotten something at school and gone back.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

He found her in the alleyway.

It was three blocks from her house. A narrow gap between two buildings, the kind of place that was dark even in the middle of the day. The kind of place where people went when they didn't want to be seen.

He almost walked past it. He almost didn't look.

But something made him turn his head. Something made him stop. Something made him look into the shadows and see her.

She was on the ground. On her knees. There were three of them. Boys. Older than them. Their faces were blurred in his memory because he wasn't looking at their faces. He was looking at her.

Her lip was split. Blood ran down her chin in a thin line, dripping onto her shirt. There was a bruise forming on her forehead, purple and ugly, right above her left eye. And her hair—

Her hair was cut.

It had been short before. Neat. The way she liked it. Now it was a mess. Uneven. Chunks missing. Someone had taken something sharp to it, scissors or maybe a knife, and hacked at it while she tried to protect her face.

She wasn't fighting anymore. She was just sitting there, her hands over her head, her body shaking. One of the boys was saying something. Sieun couldn't hear the words. He didn't need to. He could see them in the way she flinched, the way she curled into herself, the way she tried to become small enough to disappear.

Sieun didn't remember deciding to move.

He just remembered running.

He hit the first boy before the boy saw him coming. His fist connected with the boy's jaw and the boy staggered back, surprised more than hurt. The second boy turned. The third boy laughed.

"Look," the third boy said. "She brought a friend."

Sieun didn't care what they called him. He didn't care what they called her. He just wanted them to stop. He wanted them to stop and he wanted to get her out of there and he wanted to go back in time and never leave her side.

The second boy hit him in the stomach. Sieun doubled over, the air rushing out of his lungs. The first boy, recovered now, hit him in the face. He felt his cheek split open. Felt the warm rush of blood.

"Sieun—" Her voice. Small. Terrified.

"Stay back," he tried to say. But the words came out wrong. Muffled. Full of blood.

The third boy kicked his legs out from under him. Sieun hit the ground hard. His elbow cracked against the pavement. Something in his wrist made a sound he didn't like.

They were on him then. All three of them. Kicking. Punching. Laughing. He curled up the way she had been curled up, his arms over his head, trying to protect the important parts.

And then he felt her.

Her hands on his shoulders. Trying to pull him up. Trying to push one of the boys away.

"No," he said. "No, don't—"

She didn't listen. She never listened. She grabbed the arm of the boy who was hitting him and tried to pull him off. The boy turned. His fist connected with her face. The same face that was already bruised and bleeding and broken.

Sieun saw red.

Not metaphorically. Literally. The world went red around the edges. He lunged forward, grabbing the boy by the collar, pulling him away from her. He didn't remember what he said. He didn't remember what he did. He just remembered that he was between her and them. His body covering hers. His arms wrapped around her. His back taking every hit they had to give.

The boys got bored eventually. They always did. Bullies didn't have stamina. They had cruelty, but cruelty burned out fast when the person they were hurting stopped reacting.

They left. Their footsteps faded. Their laughter echoed off the brick walls and then there was silence.

Sieun stayed on top of her for a moment longer. His body was screaming. His face was wet. His wrist was definitely broken.

But she was underneath him. And she was breathing. And that was all that mattered.

"Sieun." Her voice was shaking. "Sieun, get off. You're hurt."

He pushed himself up. Slowly. Carefully. His arms trembled under his weight. He sat back on his heels and looked at her.

She looked worse than him. Her lip was still bleeding. The bruise on her forehead had darkened to a deep, ugly purple. Her hair...

Her hair was everywhere. Uneven clumps. Some long, some short. She reached up and touched it and her hand came away with strands of black.

"Don't," he said. His voice came out rough. "Don't look at it right now."

She looked at him instead. Her eyes were wide. Wet. Her chin quivered.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

He didn't understand the question. "What?"

"Why did you do that?" Louder now. Her voice cracked. "Why did you jump in? Why did you let them hit you? Why did you--"

She stopped. Her face crumpled. And then she was crying. Not quiet tears. Not the kind she cried when she thought no one was watching. Loud, messy, ugly crying. The kind that came from somewhere deep and broken.

She hit his chest. Not hard. She was too weak for hard. But she hit him anyway, her small fists thumping against his bruised ribs, and each hit hurt more than the ones from the boys.

"I hate you," she sobbed. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. You got hurt. You got hurt because of me. I hate seeing you hurt. I hate it. I hate it."

Sieun didn't say anything. He couldn't. There were no words for this. No words for the way his chest ached, not from the beating but from the sound of her voice. From the way she said his name like it was a wound.

She kept hitting him. Kept crying. Kept saying she hated him.

And then she stopped.

Her hands were still on his chest. Her face was wet. Her eyes were red. She looked at him like she was seeing him for the first time.

"I'm sorry," he said. It was the only thing he could think of. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry I let the teacher stop me. I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner. I'm sorry they hurt you. I'm sorry they cut your hair. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

She stared at him.

Then she reached up. Her fingers touched his cheek, right below the cut. He flinched. She didn't pull away.

"You're bleeding," she said.

"I know."

"You have a cut on your head."

"I know."

"Your wrist looks wrong."

"I know."

She lowered her hand. Then she reached up again and touched his hair. Pushed it out of his eyes. Her fingers were shaking.

"You're an idiot," she said.

"I know."

She almost smiled. Almost. The corner of her mouth twitched and then stopped because moving her lip hurt.

"We should go to your house," he said. "Your mom can--"

"No." She said it fast. Too fast. "No, not my house. She can't see me like this. She'll ask questions. She'll want to call the school. She'll--" She stopped. Swallowed. "She'll look at me and she'll know. She always knows. And I can't—I can't deal with that right now."

"Your house," Sieun said. "We'll go to my house."

She looked at him. "Your parents—"

"Won't be home until late."

She nodded. Slowly. Carefully. Like moving her head hurt.

Sieun stood up. The world tilted. He grabbed the wall to steady himself. His wrist screamed. He ignored it.

He held out his good hand. She looked at it. Then she looked at him.

"Can you stand?" he asked.

She tried. She made it to her knees before she stumbled. He caught her. Pulled her up. She leaned against him, her weight warm and solid and terrifying.

"I've got you," he said.

She didn't say anything. But she didn't pull away either.

He picked up her bag. And his. And then they walked. Slow. Careful. Leaning on each other.

Fifteen feet apart had never felt so far.

Sieun's house was small. Quiet. The kind of house where nothing ever happened.

He unlocked the door with his good hand. She stood behind him, close enough that he could feel her breath on his neck. The door swung open. The hallway was dark. Empty.

"Bathroom," she said. "First."

He led her there. Turned on the light. The fluorescent bulb hummed and flickered and then settled into a sickly yellow glow.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Her face went pale.

"I'll get the first aid kit," he said.

He left her there. Walked to the linen closet. Pulled out the white plastic box with the red cross on the front. His wrist throbbed with every step.

When he came back, she was sitting on the bathroom floor. Her back against the wall. Her knees pulled up to her chest. She wasn't crying anymore. Her face was blank.

Sieun sat down across from her. Opened the kit. Pulled out the antiseptic wipes and the gauze and the tape.

"Let me see your head," he said.

She looked at him. "You first."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. Your face is covered in blood."

"It's not my blood."

"It's your face."

They stared at each other. The fluorescent light hummed.

"You first," she said again. Quieter this time. "Please."

Sieun couldn't say no to her. He had never been able to say no to her.

He leaned forward. She took a wipe from the kit. Her hands were still shaking, but she was careful. Gentle. She leaned in close and touched the wipe to his cheek.

He hissed.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be."

She cleaned the cut on his cheek. Then the one on his forehead. Then the one on his lip. Her fingers brushed his skin like he was something fragile. Something precious.

He watched her face while she worked. The concentration in her eyes. The way her brow furrowed. The way her split lip parted slightly when she breathed.

"You're staring," she said.

"Observing."

"That's the same thing."

"No it's not."

She almost smiled again. Almost.

She finished his face and moved to his hands. When she got to his wrist, she stopped.

"This is bad," she said.

"I know."

"We need to get you to a hospital."

"Later."

"Sieun--"

"Later." He said it firmly. "First, you."

She looked at him. Her eyes were wet again. But she didn't argue.

She handed him the wipe. He took it. Their fingers touched. Neither of them pulled away.

Sieun leaned forward. She sat still. Let him work.

He cleaned the blood off her lip first. She winced. He whispered an apology. She shook her head.

"Keep going," she said.

He cleaned the cut above her eye. The bruise on her forehead. The scratches on her neck. He was careful. Slower than she had been. He wanted to memorize every inch of her face. Every mark. Every wound. Every place where the world had tried to break her.

When he finished, he sat back. Her face was clean now. The blood was gone. But the bruises remained. The cuts. The evidence.

Her hair was still a mess. Uneven. Hacked. He reached out without thinking and touched it. Ran his fingers through the short strands. Tried to smooth it down.

She flinched.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

She grabbed his hand. Stopped him from pulling away.

"Don't," she said. "Don't apologize. Just—" She took a breath. Let it out slow. "Just keep doing that."

He did. He ran his fingers through her hair. Tried to make it lie flat. Tried to make it look like it had before. It didn't work. The damage was too bad. But she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch and that was enough.

They sat there for a long time. The fluorescent light hummed. The house was silent. His wrist throbbed. Her lip bled a little, a fresh drop of red welling up from the cut.

"Why do you walk me home every day?" she asked.

The question came out of nowhere. Soft. Almost sleepy.

Sieun stopped moving his hand.

"What?"

"You heard me." She opened her eyes. Looked at him. "Why do you walk me home? Every day. Fifteen feet behind me. You never miss a day. Even when it's raining. Even when you're sick. Even when you have better things to do. Why?"

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

"Sieun."

"I don't know," he lied.

She looked at him. Her eyes were tired. Bruised. But they were also sharp. Sharper than he had ever seen them.

"You're a terrible liar," she said.

"I'm not lying."

"You are. You're lying right now. You've been lying for years."

His heart stopped. Then it started again, too fast.

"What do you mean?" he asked. His voice came out strange. High.

She didn't answer. She just looked at him. And in her eyes, he saw something he had never seen before. Something that looked like hope. Something that looked like fear. Something that looked like both at the same time.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"For today. For every day. For walking me home even when I didn't ask. For jumping in front of those boys. For getting hurt because of me." She paused. Swallowed. "For seeing me."

"I always see you," he said.

"I know." Her voice cracked. "That's the problem."

Sieun didn't understand. He didn't understand anything anymore. The world had narrowed to this bathroom, this floor, this space between them.

She leaned forward.

He didn't move.

Her face came closer. Close enough that he could see the individual lashes around her eyes. Close enough that he could feel her breath on his lips. Close enough that the cut on her lip was right there, right in front of him, still beaded with red.

"Thank you," she whispered.

And then she kissed him.

It was soft. So soft. Barely a press of lips against lips. She was careful, mindful of her split lip and his cut cheek. She didn't rush. She didn't push. She just kissed him like she had all the time in the world and she wanted to spend every second of it right here.

Sieun kissed her back.

He didn't think. He didn't plan. He just leaned into her and let his eyes fall closed and kissed her like she was the answer to a question he had been asking his whole life.

When she pulled back, her eyes were wet again. But she was smiling. A real smile. The first real smile he had seen from her in years.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," she said.

"Why didn't you?"

She laughed. It was small and broken and perfect. "Because I was scared."

"Of what?"

"Of you saying no. Of you not feeling the same way. Of ruining everything." She reached up and touched his face. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw. "Of losing you."

"You're not going to lose me."

"You don't know that."

"I do." He took her hand. Held it against his cheek. "I know because I've been walking fifteen feet behind you for years and I've never once wanted to be anywhere else."

She stared at him. Her lip trembled.

"Idiot," she whispered.

"Your idiot," he said.

She kissed him again. Harder this time. Less careful. Her split lip opened and he tasted blood and neither of them cared.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathing hard. Her face was flushed. His was too, probably. The bathroom was too small and too bright and too full of everything they had been too scared to say.

"We should probably get you to a hospital," she said. "Your wrist looks really bad."

"Yeah," he said. "Probably."

Neither of them moved.

"Later," she said.

"Later," he agreed.

She leaned her head against his shoulder. He rested his cheek on top of her head. Her hair was uneven and messy and perfect.

"Sieun?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you were late today."

He closed his eyes. "I'm not."

"No," she said softly. "I know. But I am. Because if you hadn't been late, I wouldn't have kissed you. And I've been wanting to kiss you for years."

Sieun didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. So he just sat there, on the bathroom floor, with her pressed against his side and his wrist throbbing and his face bleeding and the fluorescent light humming above them.

Three weeks of following Seongje around his apartment like a persistent little shadow. Three weeks of batting my eyelashes, tugging on his sleeve, and using every ounce of charm I possessed.

Three weeks of him saying no in that calm, soft way of his that made me want to scream.

"It's crowded," he said.

"I don't care."

"It's loud."

"I'll buy you earplugs."

"It's full of children."

"And? You love children. I've seen you with your nephew."

He looked at me then, that quiet look he had. The one that made me feel like he was seeing past every layer I had and straight into the messy, stubborn heart of me. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Nope."

He sighed. But it was a soft sigh. The kind that meant he was already giving in and just didn't want to admit it yet.

"Please, Seongje." I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around his waist. Pressed my face into his chest. He smelled like laundry detergent. "Please, please, please. I'll buy you all the food you want. I'll let you pick every ride. I'll even let you win one of those stupid carnival games."

"You never let me win anything."

"Exactly. So this is a big deal."

He laughed. It was quiet, barely more than a breath, but I felt it vibrate through his chest. His hand came up to rest on the back of my head. His fingers threaded through my hair.

"Fine," he said.

I looked up so fast I almost gave myself whiplash. "Wait. Really?"

"Really. But if you make me regret this, I'm never agreeing to anything again."

I kissed him. Right there in his kitchen, with the dishes still in the sink and the morning light coming through the window. I kissed him hard and fast and then I pulled back and grinned at him.

"You won't regret it," I said. "I promise."

He looked at me with those dark eyes. "I already do."

But he was smiling.

The day of the trip, Seongje showed up at my door wearing something I had never seen before. Casual clothes. Jeans that actually fit him properly. A soft gray t-shirt that made his shoulders look insane. No jacket. No blazer. No perfectly pressed buttons.

I stared at him for a full five seconds.

"What?" he asked.

"You look like a normal person."

"I am a normal person."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "You look like a normal person who does normal things like go to amusement parks and eat cotton candy and ride roller coasters. It's throwing me off."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to change?"

"Absolutely not." I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door. "Let's go before you come to your senses."

The amusement park was exactly as crowded and loud as he had predicted.

I loved it.

Seongje, I could tell, was less enthusiastic. His hand stayed wrapped around mine so tightly that our fingers were practically fused together. He kept looking around at the chaos with an expression that was somewhere between mild horror and quiet amusement.

"You're not having fun yet," I said. "I can tell."

"I'm observing."

"You're brooding."

"I'm observing while brooding. It's a skill."

I laughed and dragged him toward the first ride I saw. It was one of those spinning ones, the kind that swings you in a circle and tries to fling you into the stratosphere. Exactly my kind of thing.

"No," Seongje said.

"Yes."

"That's a death trap."

"It's a thrill ride. There's a difference."

"There's not."

I turned to face him. Put my hands on his chest. Looked up at him with the biggest, most pathetic eyes I could manage. "Seongje. Baby. Love of my life. Please."

He stared at me.

"You're so pesky," he said.

"And yet you love me."

He did not confirm or deny this. But he let me pull him toward the ride, and that was confirmation enough.

The ride was chaos.

The moment the harness clicked into place, I started screaming. Not because I was scared. Because I was excited. Because there is something about being strapped into a machine that is designed to terrify you that makes every single inhibition fly right out of your head.

Seongje, next to me, was silent. His jaw was set. His knuckles were white where he gripped the handles. But he wasn't screaming. He wasn't even making a sound.

"YOU'RE SO BORING!" I yelled at him over the wind.

He turned his head. Looked at me. And then, very quietly, he said, "You're yelling in my ear."

"I KNOW! THAT'S THE POINT!"

We spun. We swung. We dropped. I screamed the entire time, a mix of curse words and nonsense and his name shouted into the chaos. At one point, I reached over and grabbed his arm, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping me from flying off into the sky.

And Seongje? Seongje laughed.

It wasn't his usual quiet laugh. It was a real one. Loud and surprised and completely involuntary. He laughed and then he looked at me and his eyes were bright in a way I had never seen before.

"Okay," he said, still laughing. "Okay, this is fun."

"I TOLD YOU!"

We went on five more rides after that.

Each one was the same. Me screaming and cursing and grabbing onto him like a koala. Him starting out stoic and slowly, gradually, loosening up until he was laughing and holding onto me just as tightly.

On the third ride, I kissed him while we were upside down. It was messy and awkward and our teeth almost clashed and it was perfect.

On the fourth ride, he yelled. Just once. A single, startled shout when the drop caught him off guard. I had never heard him yell before. I almost cried from how happy it made me.

On the fifth ride, I sat in his lap because the seats were small and I refused to be separated from him. The ride attendant gave us a look. Seongje gave the ride attendant a look back. The ride attendant stopped looking.

"That was mean," I said, giggling.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You gave him the scary eyes."

"I have no idea what you mean."

I kissed his cheek. "You're adorable."

"I am not adorable."

"You're the most adorable person I've ever met and I'm going to tell everyone."

He put his hand over my mouth. I licked his palm. He pulled his hand away and looked at me with an expression that was half disgust and half something warmer.

"Pesky," he said again.

"You've mentioned that."

"It bears repeating."

After the rides, we walked through the park with our fingers tangled together. The sun was starting to go down, painting everything in shades of orange and pink. The park was less crowded now. Families with small children were starting to leave. Couples were starting to appear.

Seongje bought me cotton candy. He pretended he didn't want any. Then he ate half of it.

"You're a liar," I said, watching him pull a piece of pink fluff off the stick.

"I have no idea what you mean."

"You said you didn't want cotton candy."

"I changed my mind."

"You're eating it like you haven't had sugar in ten years."

He looked at me. His lips were pink from the cotton candy. There was a tiny piece stuck to his cheek. I reached up and brushed it off. He caught my wrist. Held it for a second longer than necessary.

"You're staring," he said.

"You have something on your face."

"It's gone now."

"But I'm still staring."

He let go of my wrist. But he didn't look away. We stood there in the middle of the path, people walking around us, and he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world worth seeing.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"For what?"

"For coming. For trusting me. For letting me drag you out of your comfort zone."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. His fingers brushed my cheek.

"Thank you," he said, "for dragging me."

I grinned. "See? You're having fun."

"Don't push it."

"Too late. I'm already pushing it."

He sighed. But he was smiling.

We found the game booths near the back of the park. The ones with the cheap prizes and the rigged games and the teenage employees who looked like they wanted to be anywhere else.

Seongje stopped in front of the ring toss.

"Pick a prize," he said.

I blinked. "What?"

"Pick a prize. I'm going to win it for you."

I looked at him. Then at the game. Then back at him. "You've never played this before."

"That doesn't matter."

"The game is rigged."

"That also doesn't matter."

He handed the attendant some money. The attendant handed him three rings. Seongje held them in his hand for a moment, studying the bottles like he was calculating trajectories and wind resistance and probably a dozen other things I didn't understand.

"Which prize?" he asked again.

"The big one," I said, pointing at the giant stuffed bear in the corner. "The ugly one."

"Noted."

He threw the first ring. It bounced off the bottle and clattered to the ground.

"Beginner's luck," I said. "Bad beginner's luck."

He ignored me. Threw the second ring. This one landed on the bottle, wobbled for a second, and then fell off.

"Close," I said.

Seongje looked at the third ring. Then he looked at me. Then he looked back at the bottles. Something shifted in his expression. That something I had learned to recognize. The thing that happened right before he stopped being soft.

He threw the third ring.

It landed perfectly on the bottle. Stayed there. Didn't move.

The attendant's jaw dropped.

Seongje turned to me. His face was calm. His eyes were not.

"The bear," he said to the attendant. Without looking away from me.

The attendant handed over the giant, ugly stuffed bear. It was almost as big as I was. Seongje took it and held it out to me like it was a bouquet of flowers.

"For you," he said.

I took the bear. I stared at it. Then I stared at him. "How did you do that?"

"I told you. It doesn't matter that the game is rigged."

"You're terrifying."

"I know."

I hugged the bear. Then I hugged him. Then I hugged the bear again because it was really soft and I was genuinely impressed.

"I'm keeping you forever," I said into his chest.

"That's the plan."

We were walking toward the ferris wheel when it happened.

I was still carrying the bear. It was awkward and huge and I loved it. Seongje had his arm around my shoulders, guiding me through the thinning crowd. Everything was perfect.

And then someone stepped in front of us.

A guy. Probably around our age. Good-looking in that obvious, trying-too-hard way. He had a friend with him who hung back, grinning like this was entertainment.

"Hey," the guy said. He was looking at me. Not at Seongje. At me.

I stopped walking. Seongje stopped walking. His arm tightened slightly around my shoulders.

"Can I help you?" I asked. My voice was polite. Neutral. I had learned from Seongje how to sound like nothing when I needed to.

The guy smiled. It was a confident smile. The kind that had probably worked on other people. "I just wanted to say you're really pretty. Like, really pretty. And that bear is really ugly. So maybe you should ditch the bear and come ride something with me instead."

I blinked.

Behind me, I felt Seongje go still. Not his normal stillness. Something else. Something colder.

"I'm here with someone," I said.

The guy looked at Seongje. Actually looked at him for the first time. And I watched something flicker across his face. Dismissal. He saw Seongje's soft clothes, his quiet posture, the way he was standing there not saying anything. He saw what everyone saw when they first met Seongje. A nice guy. A calm guy. Someone who wouldn't cause trouble.

"She's with me," Seongje said.

His voice was soft. Quiet. The same way it always was.

But I knew. I knew that voice. I knew what lived underneath it.

The guy didn't. He laughed. "Yeah, I can see that, man. But sharing is caring, right?"

Seongje's arm slipped off my shoulders.

He stepped forward. Not fast. Not aggressive. Just... deliberate. One step. Then another. Until he was standing directly in front of the guy. Close enough that there was no personal space left.

"I'm going to give you one chance," Seongje said. Still soft. Still quiet. But there was something underneath the softness now. Something sharp. "You're going to apologize to her. Then you're going to walk away. And you're never going to look at her again."

The guy's friend stopped grinning.

The guy himself tried to hold his ground. But I saw it. The moment he realized he had made a mistake. The moment he looked into Seongje's eyes and saw what was actually there. Not calm. Not quiet. Something that had been sleeping and was now very, very awake.

"Dude," the guy said. His voice cracked slightly. "I was just—"

"You were just being disrespectful." Seongje tilted his head. That little movement. The one that made him look almost curious. "To her. To me. To yourself, honestly. I almost feel bad for you."

The guy swallowed.

"But I don't," Seongje continued. "I don't feel bad for you at all. So here's what's going to happen. You're going to apologize. And then you're going to leave. And if I ever see you near her again, we're going to have a different conversation. A longer one. One that you will not enjoy."

The silence stretched.

Then the guy looked at me. "I'm sorry," he said. Fast. Mumbled. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"Yes you did," Seongje said. "But I'll accept the apology anyway. Now go."

The guy went. His friend followed. They disappeared into the crowd and did not look back.

Seongje stood there for a moment. His shoulders were tense. His hands were curled into loose fists at his sides. He was breathing slow and controlled, the way he did when he was holding something back.

I stepped up beside him. Put my hand on his arm.

"Seongje," I said softly.

He blinked. Turned to look at me. And just like that, the sharp thing inside him receded. His shoulders relaxed. His hands uncurled. His eyes softened back into the eyes I knew.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I laughed. I couldn't help it. "Am I okay? You just threatened a guy into apologizing to me. I'm more than okay. I'm great."

"He shouldn't have talked to you like that."

"He didn't know."

"He should have known." Seongje reached out and took my hand. His fingers were still cold. Still a little tense. "You're with me. That should be enough."

I squeezed his hand. "It is enough. For anyone with half a brain. That guy just didn't have half a brain."

Seongje almost smiled. Almost.

"Come on," I said, tugging him toward the ferris wheel. "Let's go do something romantic so you can calm down."

"I am calm."

"You're not. You're vibrating."

"I don't vibrate."

"Your hand is literally vibrating in mine."

He looked down at our joined hands. Then back at me. "That's from the cotton candy."

"The cotton candy?"

"Sugar rush."

"Seongje."

"What?"

I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "I love you."

He was quiet for a moment. Then, so softly I almost didn't hear it, he said, "I know."

The ferris wheel was slow and quiet and exactly what we needed.

We sat across from each other because the bear took up too much space. The ugly bear. The one he had won for me. It sat between us like a fluffy chaperone, its plastic eyes staring at nothing.

Seongje was looking out the window. The lights of the park spread out below us, a mess of colors and movement. From up here, it didn't look chaotic. It looked beautiful.

"You were really scary back there," I said.

He didn't look at me. "I know."

"Like, really scary. I forgot you could be like that."

"I try not to be."

"I know that too."

He turned his head. Looked at me. The ferris wheel creaked as we swung gently at the top.

"Are you scared of me?" he asked.

It was a real question. I could tell. Not insecurity, exactly. Something closer to curiosity. He wanted to know if the thing inside him, the sharp thing, scared me.

"No," I said. "I'm not scared of you. I'm scared of what you might do to someone who actually hurts me. But I'm not scared of you."

He considered this. Then he nodded. "That's fair."

"I'm also a little bit turned on."

He blinked. "What?"

"You heard me." I grinned at him. "The way you stood up to that guy? The way your voice got all low and dangerous? That was hot. I'm not going to pretend it wasn't."

Seongje stared at me. His expression was unreadable. But his ears were turning red. They always gave him away.

"You're pesky," he said for the third time that day.

"And yet you love me."

He didn't confirm or deny. But he reached across the bear and took my hand. His fingers were warm now. No more vibrating.

"I love the way you scream on roller coasters," he said quietly. "I love the way you curse. I love the way you hold onto me like I'm the only thing keeping you safe."

"Because you are."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he lifted my hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.

"I love you too," he said.

It was the first time he had said it. Really said it. Not implied it. Not hinted at it. Just said it, plain and simple, with no performance and no armor.

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. I just looked at him, this soft and sharp and impossible man, and I felt something expand in my chest until I thought I might burst.

The ferris wheel started moving again. Carrying us down toward the ground. Toward the lights and the noise and the rest of the night.

But for a moment, at the top of the world, Seongje had said he loved me.

And that was enough.

I think the worst part wasn't the lying. It was how easy the lying came to me.

That’s not entirely true. The worst part was always the moment right before I saw him, when I had to pull all the sharp edges back inside my skin and smooth my face into something soft and uncomplicated.

That took effort.

The actual being sweet once I was in front of him? That part was easy. Because he made me want to be sweet. He made me want to be the girl in the white dress who laughed at his jokes and touched his arm like I was nervous.

That girl existed. She just wasn't the only one.

Suho knew the soft version of me. He knew the version who brought him coffee before his morning classes, who remembered that he didn't like the sugar stirred in too aggressively, who looked up at him through her eyelashes when he held her hand.

That girl was real. But she was also a performance. And I had been performing for so long that sometimes I forgot where the mask ended and my actual face began.

It started small.

The first time a girl passed him a note in the hallway, I was standing right there. She folded it into a tiny square, pressed it into his palm like she was handing over a secret, and then she looked at me. Not with malice. She looked at me like I was furniture. Like I was the nice, quiet girlfriend who wouldn't do anything because nice, quiet girlfriends never did.

I smiled at her. I remember that. I smiled and I tilted my head and I let her think I was harmless.

She found out three days later.

I didn't hit her. I want to make that clear. I never hit anyone. That would have been too easy to trace back to me, too messy, too much like the girls who screamed and pulled hair in the bathroom stalls.

I was not that. I was worse.

I found her after school, not in a dark alley or anything dramatic like that, just in the parking lot near the bike racks where no teachers ever looked. I stood close to her. Closer than was comfortable. And I said, very quietly, "The note you gave Suho. What was in it?"

She tried to lie. Her voice shook and she said it was about homework. I let her finish. Then I pulled the exact same folded square from my pocket. I had taken it from Suho's backpack that morning while he was in the shower. He never even noticed. He thought he lost things all the time. That was one of the things I loved about him.

He was so trusting.

"I know what it said," I told her. "You wrote that you liked his smile. You wrote that you thought about him at night. You drew a little heart next to your name. Do you want me to show him this? Do you want me to show everyone? Because I will. But first, I want you to think about what happens to girls who go after things that don't belong to them."

She cried. I let her cry. Then I made her promise to never look at him again. She transferred schools two weeks later. I don't know if that was because of me or because of something else. I didn't ask. I didn't care.

That was the first time. It wasn't the last.

Every girl in school knew what I was. Not the teachers. Not the administration. Not Suho or any of his friends.

But the girls?

The girls knew. They watched me walk down the hallway and they stepped to the side. They saw me coming and they lowered their voices. I wasn't a bully in the way people think of bullies. I didn't steal lunch money. I didn't shove anyone into lockers. I didn't spread rumors.

I was worse than that.

I was quiet. I was patient. And I was absolutely, terrifyingly possessive of one person.

Suho had no idea.

To him, I was the girl who blushed when he complimented her. I was the girl who got shy around his friends and didn't talk much at parties. I was the girl who sat on his lap at group hangouts and rested her head on his shoulder and let him do all the talking because she was just so sweet and so soft and so obviously in love with him that she couldn't think of anything else to say.

That last part was true.

I was in love with him.

That was real. But the shyness? The quiet? That was armor. That was me hiding in plain sight.

His friends liked me because I didn't demand attention. I didn't insert myself into their conversations. I laughed when they made jokes, I nodded along when they talked about things I didn't understand, and I never, ever asked Suho to leave early or pay more attention to me than to them.

I was the ideal girlfriend from the outside. Low maintenance. Sweet. Undemanding.

They didn't know that I had a list. A real list, written in a notebook I kept locked in my nightstand drawer. Every girl who had ever looked at Suho too long.

Every girl who had ever written him a letter, passed him a note, asked him to a dance before he was with me.

Every girl who had ever posted a comment on his social media that felt too familiar. I wrote their names down. And I handled them.

One by one. Quietly. No witnesses. No proof.

I never threatened the same girl twice because I never had to. Once was enough. I had a way of looking at people that made them understand something fundamental about me.

I wasn't angry when I did it. I wasn't cruel. I was just certain. I looked at them and I said, "He's mine," and something in their face would shift. They would see it. The thing behind my eyes that didn't blink. The thing that would wait.

I never touched Suho's phone. That was a rule I made for myself. I didn't go through his messages, didn't check his call log, didn't monitor who he was talking to.

I wanted him to choose me. I wanted him to stay because he wanted to stay, not because I had removed every other option. But the girls who approached him? The ones who didn't know better? They were fair game.

There was a girl named Yuna in the winter of that year. She was pretty. Prettier than me, probably. She had long hair and a laugh that carried across the cafeteria and she wrote Suho a letter that said she thought they had a connection. I found out because her best friend told me. Her best friend came to me, actually. She found me in the bathroom during fourth period and she said, "I don't want any trouble, but Yuna doesn't know about you. She's new. Someone should tell her."

That was how it worked. The other girls policed each other for me. They were afraid of me, yes, but they were also fascinated. I was a cautionary tale. I was what happened when you loved someone too much. They watched me the way people watch car crashes. They couldn't look away.

I waited three days before I approached Yuna. I let her get comfortable. I let her think Suho was just a nice boy who smiled at her in the hallway. Then I found her alone after a club meeting and I sat down next to her like we were friends.

"You're new," I said.

She nodded. She was nervous. She could feel something wrong in the air between us even though I was smiling.

"I just wanted to welcome you," I told her. "I know it's hard to be new. But I also wanted to give you some advice." I leaned closer. I didn't raise my voice. "Suho is mine. I don't share. And I don't forgive. So whatever you wrote in that letter, I want you to take it back. I want you to forget you ever thought about him. And I want you to understand that if you don't, I will make sure everyone knows every secret you've ever told anyone. I've already talked to your best friend. She told me about the thing with your ex-boyfriend. The thing you don't want people to know."

Yuna turned white. Her hands started shaking.

I stood up. I smoothed my skirt. I smiled at her one more time. "Welcome to the school," I said. "I hope you're happy here."

She never looked at Suho again. Not once.

That was my life for almost a year. Two versions of me. The soft, sweet girlfriend who held Suho's hand and never raised her voice. And the other one. The one who collected secrets like coins and used them to keep every other girl at a distance.

I thought I was careful. I thought I was smart. I thought I had built walls so high and so thick that no one could ever see over them.

I was wrong.

The day it happened started like any other day. I woke up next to Suho. We had fallen asleep on his couch the night before, watching a movie I didn't pay attention to because I was too busy tracing the lines of his face with my fingers. He looked younger when he slept. Softer. I let myself watch him for a long time before I got up.

I made him coffee. I put it on the nightstand next to his side of the bed. I wrote him a little note on a napkin that said "Good morning, sleepyhead" with a heart next to it. Then I went home to change for school.

That was one of the lies I told him. He thought I lived with in a nice house on the other side of town. I did not. I lived in a studio apartment above a laundromat that smelled like fabric softener. My parents were in another country. They sent me money every month and called me twice a week and had no idea what my life actually looked like. I told Suho I lived with my aunt. I told him my aunt worked nights so he couldn't come over. He never questioned it.

He never questioned anything.

I was wearing a pale yellow sweater that day. Soft. Innocent. I had my hair in a low ponytail and my makeup was light. I looked like the kind of girl who volunteered at animal shelters and wrote poetry about the ocean. That was on purpose.

I met him outside his first class. He kissed my forehead. He said I looked pretty. I blushed. The blush was real. It always was.

"Are you coming to lunch with us?" he asked. "The guys want to go to that place off school."

"I have something to do," I said. "But I'll meet you after."

He didn't ask what. That was the thing about Suho. He trusted me. Completely. Absolutely. He thought I was going to the library or meeting a study group or doing any of the other boring, wholesome things he believed I spent my time doing.

I kissed his cheek. I let my hand rest on his chest for a second longer than necessary. Then I walked away.

I didn't go to the library.

The alley was behind the old convenience store that had gone out of business six months ago. It was a good spot. No cameras. No foot traffic. The only people who used it were the ones who had business there, and the only people who had business there were the ones who didn't want to be seen.

My friends were waiting for me. I use the term "friends" loosely. They were more like satellites. Girls who orbited around me because they were scared of me or because they wanted to be me or because they thought my loyalty might protect them from someone else. I didn't care why they stayed. I just cared that they did what I said.

There were three of them that day. Hana, Mina, and Soojung. Hana was the one who had texted me that morning. She said there was a problem. She said it was about Suho.

I found them huddled near the dumpster. And on the ground, sitting on the wet pavement with her back against the brick wall, was Jieun.

Jieun was supposed to be my friend. Not one of the satellites. An actual friend. Or as close to one as I allowed myself to have. She had been in my study group for two semesters. She had loaned me her notes when I was sick. She had never given me a reason to distrust her.

Until now.

"What did she do?" I asked. I didn't look at Jieun. I looked at Hana.

Hana handed me a folded piece of paper. It was pink. Scented, even. The kind of paper girls used when they wanted to be romantic. I already knew what it was before I opened it. I had seen a hundred of them.

The letter said all the same things they always said. That Suho was kind. That he had a smile that made her feel safe. That she knew he was taken but she couldn't help how she felt and she just wanted him to know.

She had signed her name at the bottom. Jieun. With a little heart dotting the 'i'.

I read it twice. Then I folded it carefully and put it in my pocket.

"Jieun," I said.

She looked up at me. Her eyes were red. She had been crying. Good.

"We've been friends for a while," I said. "I thought you understood how things work."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I wasn't going to give it to him. I wrote it and I couldn't—I wasn't going to—"

"But you did write it." My voice was calm. Quiet. That was the scariest part, I think. I never yelled. "You sat down somewhere, probably in your room with your fairy lights and your scented candles, and you thought about my boyfriend. You thought about his hands. You thought about his mouth. You thought about what it would be like if he looked at you the way he looks at me. And then you wrote it all down on pink paper and you put a heart over your 'i' like you were in some kind of movie."

Jieun started crying harder. "I didn't mean—"

"Stop." I held up my hand. "I don't want to hear what you didn't mean. I want you to hear what I mean."

Jieun watched me. Her face was a mess of tears and mascara and fear.

"Come here," I said.

She didn't move.

I stepped forward and pressed my foot down on her ankle. Not hard enough to break anything. Hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to make her understand that I was not asking.

She crawled toward me. I kept my foot on her, not letting go, until she was right at my feet. Then I pressed down harder. She gasped.

"Just because you're my friend doesn't mean you can do whatever you want," I said. "I let you close to me. I let you into my life. I thought you understood that was a privilege, not a right."

"I understand," she sobbed. "I understand, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Suho is mine." I said it slowly. Clearly. Like I was explaining something to a child. "He belongs to me. Not to you. Not to anyone. And I don't care how many letters you write or how many hearts you draw or how much you cry right now. If you ever, ever look at him again, I will ruin you. I will tell everyone about the money you stole from your grandmother. I will tell everyone about the boy you cheated on in ninth grade. I will find every secret you have ever tried to hide and I will put them all on display. Do you understand me?"

She nodded. She was shaking so hard I could feel it through my shoe.

"Say it," I said.

"I understand."

"Say 'Suho belongs to you.'"

"Suho belongs to you."

I took my foot off her ankle. Then I looked at Hana, Mina, and Soojung.

"You three. Leave."

They left. They didn't look back. They knew better.

Jieun stayed on the ground, crying, holding her ankle. I didn't help her up. I didn't offer her a hand or a kind word or any of the things a real friend would have given. I just looked at her for a long moment, memorizing the shape of her fear, and then I turned to walk away.

That was when I heard it.

"Wow."

Just one word. Quiet. Almost amused.

I froze.

I knew that voice. I had heard it say my name a thousand times. I had heard it whisper things to me in the dark. I had heard it laugh and sigh and fall asleep mid-sentence.

I turned around.

Suho was standing at the mouth of the alley. He had his hands in his pockets. His head was tilted to the side. And he was smirking.

Not an angry smirk. Not a disappointed one. Something else. Something I couldn't read.

My heart stopped. Then it started again, too fast, hammering against my ribs like something trying to escape a cage.

"Suho," I said.

My voice sounded strange. Small. I had never been small around anyone except him. But this was different. This wasn't the soft, sweet smallness I performed. This was real. I was actually, genuinely terrified.

He walked toward me. Slow. Casual. Like he had all the time in the world.

"I was looking for you," he said. "I wanted to walk you to lunch. Someone said they saw you head this way." He stopped a few feet away from me. His eyes moved from my face to the cigarette butt on the ground to Jieun, still crying against the wall. Then back to me. "Guess I found you."

I didn't say anything. What could I say? Every lie I had ever told him was suddenly useless. Every performance I had ever given was over. He had seen me. Not the soft version. Not the sweet version.

The real one.

The one who stepped on her friends and threatened girls with their own secrets.

"Jieun," Suho said. He looked at her. "You should go."

She scrambled to her feet. She didn't look at either of us. She just ran. Her footsteps echoed off the brick walls and then faded and then there was silence.

Suho and I stood in the alley. I wanted to say something. I wanted to explain. But every word I thought of sounded like an excuse and I had never been good at excuses.

I was good at threats. I was good at secrets. I was good at being two different people. I was not good at this.

"How long?" I finally asked.

"How long have I known?" He tilted his head again. That smirk was still there. It was driving me crazy. "Or how long have I been standing here?"

"Both."

He took a step closer. Then another. He was close enough now that I could smell his shampoo. That clean, citrus thing he used. I had bought it for him three months ago. I remembered standing in the store, comparing bottles, trying to pick the one that would make him smell like mine.

"I've known for a while," he said. "Not everything. Not the details. But I knew you weren't as sweet as you pretended to be."

I blinked. "What?"

"Come on." He laughed. It was a real laugh. Warm. Like this was funny to him. Like finding out his girlfriend was a monster was actually amusing. "You think I didn't notice? All those girls who stopped talking to me? All those letters I never got? I'm not stupid."

"I didn't—"

"You hid them." He said it simply. Like it was a fact. Like the sky was blue and the earth was round. "You hid every letter anyone ever wrote me. You never went through my phone, I know that. I checked. But the letters? The notes? The messages people tried to pass to me through friends? Those disappeared. And I let them."

I stared at him. "You let them?"

"I wanted to see what you would do." He shrugged. "At first I was curious. Then I was impressed. Then I was..." He paused. His smirk softened into something that looked almost like wonder. "Then I was in love."

I must have made a face because he laughed again.

"You heard me," he said. "I'm in love with you. All of you. Not just the girl who brings me coffee. The other one too. The one who just threatened to ruin her friend's life because she wrote me a letter."

"That's not—" I stopped. I didn't know what I was trying to say.

"Let me tell you something," Suho said. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers were warm. Gentle. The same way they always were. "Every girl I've ever dated was nice. Every single one. They were sweet and kind and they never raised their voices and they let me do whatever I wanted. And I was bored out of my mind."

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

"You," he continued, "are not boring. You are the least boring person I have ever met. You have a notebook full of secrets hidden in your nightstand. You have three girls who do whatever you tell them to. You step on people and you have kept every other girl in this school away from me for almost a year without me ever finding out. Do you know how impressive that is?"

"This isn't a job interview," I said. My voice came out hoarse.

"No," he agreed. "It's better."

He kissed me.

Right there in the alley, with the smell of smoke and garbage and the faint echo of Jieun's footsteps still in the air, Suho kissed me. And it was different from every other kiss we had ever shared. Before, I had always been performing. Always holding back. Always making sure I was soft and sweet and exactly what he wanted.

This time, I didn't hold back. I kissed him like I owned him. Because I did. I kissed him like I had threatened a dozen girls for him and I would threaten a dozen more. Like I had a list in my nightstand and I wasn't sorry about it. Like I was exactly who I was and for the first time, I wasn't hiding.

When he pulled back, he was smiling. That real smile. The one that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"There she is," he said.

I didn't know what that meant. But I didn't ask.

He took my hand. His fingers laced through mine. He looked down at our joined hands and then back at my face.

"You're going to have to tell me everything," he said. "The list. The secrets. The girls. All of it."

"Okay," I said.

"And you're going to have to promise me something."

"What?"

His smirk came back. That infuriating, wonderful smirk. "You're never going to hide from me again. Not the soft parts. Not the sharp parts. I want all of it. The good girl and the one who steps on people. I want both."

I looked at him for a long time. The boy I had threatened everyone for. The boy I had lied to every single day. The boy who had known, somehow, all along.

"Okay," I said again.

He squeezed my hand. Then he pulled me out of the alley and into the sunlight.

We walked back toward school. His thumb traced circles on the back of my hand. The same way it always did. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed.

"You know," he said after a few minutes, "you never had to threaten anyone."

I looked at him.

"I was never going to leave you," he said. "Not for Yuna. Not for Jieun. Not for anyone. You could have just asked."

"I know," I said.

And I did know. That was the worst part. I knew he loved me. I knew he wasn't going anywhere. But knowing wasn't enough. I needed to make sure. I needed to remove every possibility. I needed to be the only option.

He looked at me. That look. Like he could see through my skin and into the messy, complicated, possessive thing I was underneath.

"I know you know," he said. "That's why I stayed."

We didn't talk about it again that day. We went to lunch with his friends. I sat on his lap and rested my head on his shoulder and let him do all the talking. His friends thought nothing had changed. They saw the same soft, sweet girl they had always seen.

But underneath the table, Suho's hand was on my thigh. And every few minutes, he squeezed. Just a little. Just enough.

A secret language. Just for us.

That night, I went home to my apartment above the laundromat. I opened my nightstand drawer. I took out the notebook. The list. Every name I had ever written down.

I looked at it for a long time.

Then I closed the notebook and put it back in the drawer.

Not because I didn't need it anymore. I still did. There would be other girls. There always were. And I would handle them the same way I always had. Quietly. Patiently. Thoroughly.

But now, when I came home to Suho, I wouldn't have to pretend. He would kiss me and he would smile because that was who I was. That was who he wanted.

The good girl was a performance.

The other one? The one who watched and waited and never let anyone forget what was hers?

That one was real.

And Suho loved her anyway.

I think about that day sometimes. The way Jieun cried. The way Suho stepped out of the shadows like he had been waiting for the right moment all along.

He told me later that he had followed me for weeks before that. Not because he didn't trust me. Because he wanted to know me. All of me. And he knew I would never show him on my own.

"I wanted you to feel safe enough to be yourself," he said. "But you never did. So I had to make you."

I asked him if he was scared. Of what he saw. Of what I was.

He laughed. "No," he said. "I was scared of losing you. That's different."

I didn't know what to say to that. So I didn't say anything. I just kissed him. And when I pulled back, he was smirking again.

"There she is," he said.

There she was.

There I was.