?(?? ? ? )? . . . . . . .
. . A seemingly "hard boy" with emotional walls built from past pain. Outwardly confident, sometimes cruel
. . A quiet, gentle girl who has endured bullying in the past. She's observant and strong, and often overlooked...
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the last bell rang, low and final. students poured out of the classroom in waves, voices rising with relief. seohyun stood, gathering her books slowly, her fingers still lingering on the edges of her notebook.
joon turned to her with a soft smile. "you heading straight home?"
seohyun nodded. "yeah... i've got a few things to do."
"alright," joon said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "text me if anything, okay?"
"i will." a small smile tugged at seohyun's lips. "thanks again... for today."
"anytime," joon said, giving a little wave before disappearing down the hallway.
seohyun stepped out into the late afternoon light. the sky was soft with streaks of fading blue. the walk home wasn't long—quiet blocks, leaves rustling under her shoes.
no one followed her this time. no shouting, no laughter. just the hum of distant traffic and the rhythm of her own thoughts.
when she reached her building, she climbed the stairs with slow steps. her key turned in the lock with a familiar click.
she slipped inside, shutting the door behind her.
home—dim, quiet, and waiting.
she exhaled.
another day survived.
the door closed behind her with a soft thud.
the apartment was quiet, except for the faint hum of the fridge and the ticking of the wall clock. the kind of silence that filled every corner — not comforting, just... there.
she slipped off her shoes, lined them neatly by the door.
no sign of her mother. probably out. or asleep. or something worse.
she didn't check.
her bag hit the floor of her room with a soft thump. she dropped onto her bed, lying there for a moment, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. it felt like the day had stretched forever — not bad, not good, just long.
her fingers brushed over the edge of her backpack. the corner of her notebook peeked out, and for a moment, she thought of joon again. her voice. her presence. her kindness.
someone had talked to her today — really talked.
that thought lingered.
slowly, she sat up and pulled out her books. maybe she'd get her homework done early. maybe today could end quietly.
she turned on her desk lamp. the soft yellow glow filled her little space.
safe, at least for now.
as seohyun flipped through her textbook, her phone buzzed beside her. she almost ignored it — probably a school notification or another app she forgot to silence.
but when she glanced at the screen, her breath caught for a second.
jake.
hey. are you free to meet up for a bit?
she stared at the message, blinking once, then again.
of all the people to text her... him?
they hadn't spoken since the incident. the kiss. the look on his face when he realized she'd seen it.
her thumb hovered over the screen.
a dozen thoughts chased each other in her head — confusion, hesitation, curiosity... something else she didn't want to name.
after a long pause, she typed a reply.
where?
the three dots appeared almost instantly.
near the river trail. same bench.
her heart thudded — not fast, but steady. heavy.
she didn't know what this would be.
but she grabbed her hoodie anyway.
and this time, she didn't drag her feet on the way out.
her fingers trembled just slightly as she set her phone down.
she stared at the message, then at her reflection in the mirror.
for a moment, she just looked at herself.
messy ponytail. oversized hoodie. the same jeans she always wore.
she stood up.
opened her closet.
most of her clothes were plain—hoodies, baggy t-shirts, clothes that hid her, that made her small.
but tucked in the back was a soft blouse she never wore, and a long skirt with a subtle floral pattern. muted, simple, but still—beautiful in a quiet way.
she hesitated.
then pulled them out.
for the next few minutes, the room was filled with soft rustling—fabric slipping over skin, a brush sweeping across her cheeks. she tied her hair up neatly. just a little balm on her lips. no eyeliner. no mascara. but she looked... different.
not like someone pretending to be confident.
just someone trying.
when she stepped back and looked in the mirror again, she didn't flinch.
not perfect.
not unrecognizable.
but her.
she grabbed her phone, her small purse, and slipped on her cleanest shoes.
one last glance at herself.
then she left.
the sky outside was pale with late afternoon light. and for once, she didn't duck her head as she walked.
seohyun was slipping on her shoes, tying the laces with careful fingers, when a creak in the hallway made her glance up.
her mother stood there, silhouetted by the dim light behind her. arms crossed, glass in hand. her gaze swept over seohyun slowly, pausing at the blouse, the skirt, the brushed hair.
a long, heavy silence.
then, almost too softly—
"you look just like your mother, just like when i was in high school"
seohyun's breath caught.
she didn't know what to say. didn't know what her mother meant—if she even meant herself, or if, in that moment, she was speaking like someone else entirely.
a flicker of something passed through her mother's face. something unreadable. wistful, maybe. bitter.
then, with a scoff, she shook her head.
"guess you finally figured out how not to look like a total mess."
seohyun stayed quiet.
"don't go thinking it changes anything," her mother added sharply, like she needed to crush whatever softness had slipped through.
she turned and walked back down the hall.
"don't come back crying if it all goes wrong," she muttered, just before the door clicked shut behind her.
seohyun stood still for a moment, staring at the space where her mother had been.
then she picked up her phone. stepped outside.
the cool air met her skin like a sigh.
and this time, her shoulders didn't hunch. she didn't shrink.
