Park Sunghoon | drowned in silence

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

Sunghoon had always been the type to go unnoticed, in a way. He was a presence at school, no doubt about it—the kind that everyone knew, but no one really saw. Girls swooned over him, desperate for even the smallest of his attention, but he didn't care. They were just distractions.

He didn't care about school, didn't care about being popular, and certainly didn't care about anyone's opinions. For as long as he could remember, Sunghoon had been the kind of person who moved through life as if it was just a game—his rules, his pace, no one's input. He didn't smile unless he had to. He didn't laugh unless something was actually funny. His life was easy, he thought. At least, until recently.

Recently, he had found himself noticing things he didn't care about before.

Like Yejin.

She was always there, always in the background. At first, Sunghoon barely paid attention to her—how could he, when she was always so quiet and avoided everyone else? He'd see her at the edge of the hallways, hiding in corners during lunch, and sometimes, if his gaze happened to flicker over to her, he'd notice how everyone else treated her.

The whispers, the stares. The way they laughed at her, like she was something to be mocked.

It was strange. He never saw her stand up for herself. Not once. It wasn't that she was weak. Sunghoon had observed her for a few weeks now, and she wasn't weak—no, she was just... resigned. Like she had learned the hard way that silence was the safest way to survive.

But there was something about her that caught his attention. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, the quiet dignity she had even in the face of everything. Or maybe it was the way no one seemed to care enough to help her. Sunghoon wasn't one to give a damn about other people's issues, but there was something different about this.

That afternoon, after another day of indifference at school, Sunghoon walked the halls in his usual detached way, his earbuds in, the music low enough that he could hear his footsteps echo on the hard floors. He didn't need to focus on anything else, his mind wandering as always.

But when he passed by the library, something caught his eye. Yejin.

She was sitting at one of the farthest tables, buried in a book. She was so absorbed that she didn't notice him walking past her until he had already made it halfway to the door. There was something so... out of place about it. The others were loud, constantly chatting and laughing, but not her. She was just there, quietly existing. No drama, no need for attention, just the simplest, purest form of solitude.

A thought lingered at the back of Sunghoon's mind—Why does she sit alone every day?

He found himself walking back toward the table.

She looked up briefly as he stopped nearby, almost as if she didn't expect anyone to approach her. Her eyes flickered nervously, but she quickly went back to the page in her book, not saying anything. Sunghoon couldn't help but feel a strange sense of discomfort as she ignored him entirely.

He shifted awkwardly, the silence pressing in. He wasn't used to this—people usually paid attention to him, whether they wanted to or not. He cleared his throat.

"Hey, Yejin."

She didn't react at first. She didn't even flinch.

"Yejin?" he repeated.

Finally, she looked up, her expression startled, like she hadn't been expecting him to speak to her.

"Oh," she said softly, her voice barely audible. "Sunghoon... hello."

She said it like a question. Like she wasn't sure if she was allowed to speak to him.

Sunghoon didn't really know why he was still standing there. It wasn't like he needed anything. He wasn't going to suddenly try to be her friend, or offer some comforting words—it just wasn't his thing. But still, something felt off. There was something about her that made him want to... know more.

"Are you always here?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation light, though it felt unnatural.

Yejin nodded slowly, her gaze drifting back to her book. "Yeah. I like reading. It's quieter here."

Sunghoon glanced around. The library was quiet, but not silent. It was one of the few places in the school where students actually seemed to leave each other alone. And yet, Yejin's words rang with a quiet sadness.

"Why don't you eat with everyone else?" Sunghoon asked, though he already knew the answer. He had seen how the other students treated her. How they completely ignored her, how Minji and her group would always make sure to remind everyone that Yejin was an outsider.

Yejin shrugged, her shoulders tense. "I don't mind it."

He didn't know why that bothered him so much. She didn't mind it? Why should she have to "not mind" being alone?

He took a step closer, the sudden impulse surprising even himself. "You don't have to sit alone, you know. There's always room in my group."

Her eyes flickered up to meet his, and for the briefest second, Sunghoon thought he saw something in them. A flicker of hope, maybe? But then, just as quickly, her gaze lowered again, and she smiled weakly.

"That's okay. I'm fine here," she said, her voice soft but firm. She didn't sound convincing. It sounded like a lie.

Sunghoon didn't push it. Instead, he nodded and turned to leave, but he stopped just before stepping out the door. He glanced back over his shoulder.

"You don't have to act like it's okay all the time, you know."

Yejin didn't respond immediately. For a moment, Sunghoon thought she might ignore him altogether. But then, very quietly, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper.

"Thanks, but it's easier this way."

He didn't know what to say to that. He didn't even know what he was trying to say in the first place. What was he supposed to do? Walk into her life and change everything? Help her stand up to the bullies who tormented her? He wasn't the type to do that. He didn't even know how to do that.

He didn't stay for a response. He simply nodded once, the weight of something unspoken between them, and left.

The rest of the day passed in the usual haze. Sunghoon went through the motions, as he always did, but something lingered in his mind. Yejin's soft voice, the way she carried herself with quiet dignity, despite the way others treated her—it stayed with him.

He couldn't understand it. Why did she let them treat her like that? And why did it feel like she was waiting for someone to notice her, yet didn't expect anything from anyone?

Sunghoon didn't know the answers, and frankly, he wasn't sure he wanted to. But when he walked out of school that day, he caught a glimpse of Yejin sitting alone on the steps outside. She was reading again, just like always, avoiding the crowd, avoiding everything.

For a split second, Sunghoon thought about going over to her again, asking her to sit with him. To stop pretending she was okay with the loneliness.

But he didn't.

Instead, he walked away.

But this time, as he did, something inside of him made him stop, look back for one last moment.

Yejin was still there, small and quiet, a person who wasn't meant to be alone but always seemed to be.

Something stirred in his chest, something he couldn't name.

Maybe tomorrow, he thought. Maybe tomorrow, he'd stop walking away.

And maybe, just maybe, he'd find out what it would take to make her believe she deserved better than this.