Every Time

Heyyy

Can you do one sieun x reader finding about about her scars??

(The seonge one was really good tho)

“The Quiet Things You Hide”

Yeon Sieun x fem!reader

Angst + Hurt/Comfort, Slow Emotional Unraveling, Mutual Healing

Themes: Self-harm scars (non-active), emotional vulnerability, tender connection, comfort without judgment

⸻

It was late evening when the tutoring session ended.

The sky outside Sieun’s apartment had gone indigo, with streaks of pale orange fading behind the buildings. You stretched with a groan, setting your pencil down and letting your head fall onto the stack of notes between you. Math equations blurred together.

Sieun just watched you quietly from his side of the low table, his expression unreadable — but not unkind.

“I’m done,” you sighed. “My brain is officially fried.”

“Understandable,” he said in that calm voice of his. “You’ve been focused for over an hour. That’s a first.”

You cracked a smile. “Don’t act like I’m a slacker.”

“I’m not. I’m just surprised.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest. Around Sieun, it was easy to let your guard down without even noticing it. You weren’t sure when it started — the way you felt safe around him. Maybe it was the fact that he never pressured you to talk. Never forced a smile. He was just… present, like a quiet constant.

You reached for the hoodie you had taken off earlier, chilled now from sitting so long. But when your sleeve hitched up slightly, Sieun’s eyes dropped.

Just for a second.

So fast you almost missed it.

But you didn’t.

You followed his gaze, and your stomach twisted.

The scars were faint now, pale lines that ran just below the crease of your elbow. Most days, you forgot they were even there. But seeing the flicker in Sieun’s expression — the one you had trained yourself to notice in people — made your chest tighten.

You pulled the sleeve down quickly and looked away.

Silence stretched between you. Too long. Too loud.

“I wasn’t staring,” he said softly.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t know how.

Sieun sat up straighter but didn’t move closer. He respected space, always had. Still, his gaze was steady on you — not pushing, but not avoiding it either.

“Y/N.”

You flinched. It wasn’t his tone. It was the way your name sounded when he said it — like he actually saw you, not just the version you performed for everyone else.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he continued, “but I also don’t want to pretend I didn’t see.”

You let out a breath and turned your head toward the window, your voice low. “You probably think I’m—”

“—Human,” he cut in.

You blinked.

He leaned his forearms on his knees, fingers interlocked. “I think you’re human. I think something must’ve hurt you a lot. And I think you’re still here, which means you fought through it.”

You bit your bottom lip. Hard.

“Why aren’t you asking questions?” you whispered. “Why aren’t you trying to fix me like everyone else?”

“Because I’m not trying to fix you,” he said. “I just want to understand.”

That made you look at him again.

He met your eyes. Calm. Steady. No pity, no horror — just quiet concern.

You swallowed hard. “It was a while ago. I’m not doing it anymore.”

“I believe you.”

“But it’s still part of me.”

“I know.” He paused. “And I still want to be near you.”

You felt your throat tighten. The tears hit your eyes fast — too fast to blink them away, but you tried anyway.

“You don’t even know how bad it got.”

“I don’t need to,” he replied. “I just need you to know I’m not going anywhere.”

You didn’t know when you moved, but suddenly you were in his arms.

Not in a dramatic, movie-style fall — it was more like gravity pulled you there. Like your body just knew he was safe. Sieun tensed slightly, as if unsure what to do with you at first, but then his arms wrapped around you carefully. One hand rested on the back of your head, the other curled around your waist.

And he just held you.

Not a word.

Not a breath wasted on trying to fix anything.

You cried quietly, and he let you.

Eventually, your voice broke against his shoulder. “Do you think I’m broken?”

He shook his head against your temple. “I think you’re surviving. And that’s harder than breaking.”

You pulled back enough to see his face. He was so close — his expression soft in a way most people never got to see. His usual guarded calm melted into something else. Tenderness.

“I didn’t want you to find out like that,” you said.

“There’s no right way for something like that,” he replied. “But I’m glad I know.”

You took a slow breath. “Why?”

“Because now I can stop pretending you’re okay when you’re not. I can actually be there for you. Not the version you show people.”

Your heart cracked a little more — but this time it didn’t hurt. It felt like something letting go.

You looked down at your arm, your fingers gently covering the faded lines.

He noticed.

“You don’t have to hide them from me,” he said.

You met his gaze again, voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t think I’m… too much?”

“Y/N.” His hand reached up and gently took yours. “You’re enough. As you are. No performance. No pretending.”

There was silence again. But this time it wasn’t heavy.

It was comforting.

You stayed like that with him, sitting side by side, his hand still holding yours.

Eventually, when you both lay back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, you let yourself breathe. Fully. Deeply. And when his fingers brushed yours again, intertwining like it was nothing, you knew something had shifted.

You weren’t alone anymore — not in the way that mattered.

LEE JUN YOUNG THE MAN YOU ARE UGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Glass Cage: Part 10 – The Echo After”

Geum Seong-je x Reader | Trial Aftermath, House Revisit, Emotional Collapse, Deep Angst

⸻

The courtroom was painfully still.

Wooden seats. The sterile smell of old books and polished floors. The silence was the kind that bruised—too thick to breathe through, too quiet to feel real.

Your palms pressed together in your lap, knuckles white.

The jury foreman stood.

“We, the jury, find the defendant—Geum Seong-je—guilty of kidnapping in the first degree… obstruction of justice… unlawful possession of a firearm… harboring a missing person—”

Each word hit like a blow to the ribs. You didn’t cry. Not yet.

You looked at him.

He sat straight. Hands cuffed to the table. But his shoulders were relaxed—not because he was okay, but because he didn’t want you to fall apart.

His eyes met yours.

Soft. Steady.

The kind of look someone gives you when they know they’re about to be taken from you forever.

You almost whispered his name.

You almost ran to him.

But the gavel slammed. And the moment broke.

⸻

Weeks later. Same courtroom.

You’d begged to speak.

Your voice shook at first, but you held it together. You had to.

“They call him my captor. I call him my husband.”

“They say he took me. I say I never wanted to be found.”

“He gave me safety. He gave me warmth. He gave me our daughter.”

The judge stared at you like you were broken beyond repair.

Maybe you were.

The sentence:

25 years. No chance of parole for 12.

You didn’t remember standing.

Or being escorted out.

You just remember turning around one last time, and seeing his head bow forward.

Not in shame.

But in goodbye.

⸻

They gave you a hotel room.

Neutral colors. Government-issued warmth. Fresh sheets you couldn’t sleep in.

Your baby was at your best friend’s apartment, just outside town.

Safe. Fed. Asleep.

Your best friend had seen you through every version of yourself—before, during, after. She never judged. Not once.

“I’ll keep her tonight,” she said after the sentencing. “Go do what you need to do.”

And so you did.

⸻

You drove there on muscle memory. No GPS. Just the tug of your soul pulling you back to where it last knew peace.

The house was unlocked. The investigation team had been through already—swept it for evidence, cleared it out of anything dangerous.

But they left everything else behind.

The living room was exactly how it was the night they came.

Now, that same wine glass lay in pieces beneath the table.

You knelt down, picking up one of the shards.

Your hands shook.

The fireplace was dark.

His slippers still sat by the hearth.

Your hoodie hung over the arm of the couch.

The couch pillow had an indent where his head rested that night—just hours before they stormed in with guns and shouts and flashlights in your baby’s face.

You walked through the house like a ghost retracing its own death.

⸻

And then it happened.

The weight of it.

The silence of it.

The absence of him.

You collapsed to your knees in the middle of the floor.

Blanket still bunched up beside you, wine stain still in the rug, everything exactly where your life had stopped.

You cried so hard it was animal.

It ripped out of you—loud, shaking sobs into the cushion he used to rest his head on.

You punched the floor. Screamed into the blanket.

You shouted his name again and again like if you said it loud enough, he might walk back through the door.

“Seong-je—*Seong-je please—*I can’t do this—”

Your chest heaved, raw.

Tears soaked your shirt. The hardwood. The blanket.

The house didn’t answer.

⸻

It was dark when you heard the front door creak.

You didn’t move.

You couldn’t.

Soft steps. Then a familiar voice.

“It’s just me.”

She found you curled on the floor, arms wrapped around the blanket like it was him.

She didn’t say, ‘Are you okay?’

She didn’t say, ‘You need to get up.’

She sat down next to you, pulled you into her lap, and let you cry all over again.

Her voice was soft in your hair.

“You don’t have to explain. I know. I’ve always known.”

You let yourself fall apart in her arms because you knew—deep down—she was one of the few who never saw your love as something twisted.

Only tragic.

that new chapter AND y si fuera ella?? perfect tbh

Thank youuuuuu. I’m not even gonna lie reading the chapter back I did shed a little tear 😭😭😭😭there will be another chapter thooooo😝😝😝😝

“No One Else” — Part 7: “The Silence Between Us”

Genre: Dark romance, emotional unraveling, obsession

Tone: Cold war tension, quiet heartbreak, dangerous buildup

I have no music for this one😖

⸻

You didn’t answer that night.

And you didn’t follow him when he walked away.

That was the beginning.

The shift.

The unraveling.

⸻

You stopped texting first.

You sat with other people at lunch.

You let your headphones drown him out in the hallway. Walked past him without slowing down. Not in hatred—just in resistance.

You needed to know if you were still a person without him. If your thoughts were your own. If your voice didn’t echo back his name every time you breathed.

He noticed, of course.

He always noticed.

⸻

At first, he didn’t confront you.

Just watched.

From his usual spot near the stairs. Or across the hall. Or from a corner of the convenience store he never used to go to.

He watched you laugh with someone else.

He watched you tuck your phone deeper into your bag.

He watched the space between you grow like a wound.

And then—he started cracking.

⸻

It came out in bursts.

One day, he grabbed your wrist in the hallway. Too tight. Too fast.

“Don’t ignore me,” he said.

You stared at him, calm and deliberate. “You said to choose. I’m choosing.”

He didn’t let go.

His hand was shaking.

You’d never seen him shake before.

“You think walking away makes you free?” he asked. “You think I’ll just disappear?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “Do you want to disappear, Seong-je?”

That made something in him snap.

He let go.

But the next day?

He wasn’t at school.

And neither was the guy you’d been working on the project with.

⸻

You found out through someone else that the kid ended up in the nurse’s office with a busted lip and no explanation.

You didn’t ask.

You knew.

You went home that night with your heart pounding and your stomach twisted.

You wanted space.

But distance from Geum Seong-je didn’t feel like freedom.

It felt like walking through a minefield barefoot.

⸻

He didn’t show up again for three days.

And for three days, you slept with your phone on your pillow, waiting.

Not because you missed him.

But because some part of you knew—when he came back, he wouldn’t come quietly.

And if you weren’t ready, he’d take back everything you were trying to reclaim.

One word at a time.

“No One Else”

Pairing: Geum Seong-je x Reader

Genre: Angst, possessiveness, obsession, unresolved tension

Setting: Post-Class 2 events, dark school rooftops and quiet apartments

⸻

You shoved his hand off your wrist for the third time that night.

“Geum Seong-je,” you snapped. “You’re not my boyfriend. You don’t get to act like this.”

His eyes flickered. Not wide, not surprised—but focused. Too focused. Like a lion watching prey try to limp away.

“Don’t call me by my full name like that,” he said, stepping forward. His voice wasn’t loud, but it tightened the air between you.

“Why not? That’s your name, isn’t it? Or should I start calling you what people actually say behind your back?”

He raised a brow. “You think I care what people say?”

“You care when I say it.”

That shut him up, for a beat. And that silence felt more dangerous than any insult he could throw.

You folded your arms, already regretting coming up to the rooftop with him. He’d cornered you at the stairwell after your last class, asking—no, demanding—a word. Always when no one else was around. Always when it would be easier to just nod and let him have his say.

You should’ve said no.

“You were with him again,” Seong-je said finally, his voice low. “You know who I mean.”

You blinked. “Are you seriously bringing this up again? He’s a friend. A normal friend.”

“Normal? You think that guy’s not waiting for you to give him one smile and climb into his lap?”

You stepped back. “You’re out of line.”

He followed, slow and deliberate. “Maybe. But I’m not wrong.”

“Even if you’re not, it doesn’t matter. You don’t get to dictate who I hang out with. You don’t own me.”

That word. Own.

His face twitched. Not angry. Not yet. Just… strained. Tense in that way he got when he was trying not to lose control.

“I don’t want to own you,” he said. But his eyes said otherwise. “I just want you to understand. I’m the one who sees you for who you are. Not them. Not that guy. He doesn’t know how your voice sounds when you’re lying. I do.”

You stared at him, arms still crossed. “That’s not love, Seong-je. That’s surveillance.”

He laughed. Just once. Sharp, bitter.

“Love?” he repeated. “You think what you make me feel is love?”

You paused. The rooftop air felt colder suddenly. And quieter. His voice dropped to a near whisper.

“I don’t sleep some nights,” he said. “Not because of guilt. I don’t have much of that left. But because I can’t stop thinking about you. What you’re doing. Who you’re smiling at. If you’re still thinking about me or if you’ve finally decided I’m just another freak with a control problem.”

You didn’t speak. Because he wasn’t wrong. You had thought that. Maybe still did.

“But then you do something stupid,” he continued. “Like laugh too loud in the hallway. Or wear something that makes every guy turn his head. And I realize—they don’t get to see you like that. They don’t get that part of you. Only I do.”

You exhaled slowly. “That’s not love either. That’s obsession.”

He stepped closer again, so close you could smell the faint trace of smoke and mint he always carried. Not cologne—something darker. More dangerous.

“I don’t care what you call it,” he said. “As long as it keeps you away from him.”

You glared at him. “You think I’ll drop my friends just because you said so?”

He leaned in, voice quiet enough that you could feel it in your spine.

“I think you already have. At least a little. Because you’re still here. Because even when I scare the hell out of you… you stay.”

He was right. And that terrified you more than anything.

Because you had a million chances to walk away from Geum Seong-je. From his temper, from the way he made everything a war, from the way his gaze felt like it could skin people alive—but you didn’t.

Maybe because part of you liked how intense he got. How he looked at you like you were the only real thing in a world full of pawns and trash. Maybe you liked being the one exception.

But at what cost?

“You need help,” you whispered.

His head tilted, eyes unreadable. “You make me worse. You know that, right?”

You nodded, slowly. “Yeah. And you make it really hard to breathe sometimes.”

He looked at you for a long time. No smirk. No anger. Just a quiet, razor-sharp stare.

“Good,” he said. “Then we’re even.”

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was a claim.

Possessive. Bruising. A kiss like a warning.

You didn’t kiss back. But you didn’t push him away, either.

And when he pulled back, his hand still wrapped around your wrist, you realized he wasn’t going to let go.

Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

“Cherry Coke & Cigarettes”

(Part 2 !smut!)

⚠️ NSFW / 18+ SMUT

Tags: Dom!Geum Seong-je, sub!innocent reader, first time, fingering, soft corruption, praise kink, possessive dirty talk, slightly rough but caring.

@ashayein

————-

You weren’t supposed to be here again.

You told yourself it was just a one-time thing—the Cherry Coke, the stolen glances, the kiss that nearly took your breath away. But here you were. Standing in Seong-je’s room, heart pounding, hoodie sleeves bunched in your fists.

“You nervous?” he asked, sitting on the edge of his bed, legs spread like he had all the time in the world.

“Yes.”

He smiled, eyes flickering down your body. “Good. You should be.”

You swallowed. “I… want you.”

He tilted his head slightly. “You sure?”

You nodded.

“Then come here.”

You walked over, slow steps across the hardwood until you stood between his legs. His hands came up, resting at your waist gently, thumbs rubbing circles over the fabric.

“Look at you,” he murmured, dark eyes devouring you. “Little angel… about to let a guy like me touch you like that.”

“I want it to be you,” you whispered. “Only you.”

Something shifted in his expression. Like the last thread of patience snapped.

He pulled you into his lap, your legs straddling his thighs, your chest flush against his. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me, do you?”

You shook your head, fingers curling in his shirt.

“Then let me show you.”

His mouth was on yours again—hot, deep, and claiming. His tongue slid past your lips, tasting every inch, setting your nerves on fire. You moaned softly, hands gripping his shoulders like he was your only anchor.

“Take this off,” he said against your lips, tugging at your hoodie. “Wanna see you.”

You hesitated, cheeks flushing.

“I’ll go slow,” he said, voice lower now, rough with restraint. “We stop if you say stop.”

You nodded.

You lifted your hoodie over your head. His hands didn’t waste a second—they slid up your bare waist, fingertips dragging over your skin like he was memorizing you.

“Fuck…” he breathed. “You’re perfect.”

You whimpered as his hands cupped your chest, thumbs brushing over your bra. He leaned in and kissed the top curve of one breast, then the other, so tender it made you ache.

“You shaking?” he asked against your skin.

“Yes…”

“I’ll make it feel good, baby. I promise.”

You let him push the straps down. The moment your bra was gone, he stared—quiet, reverent—and then leaned down to press a kiss to your sternum.

And then he bit. Not hard—just enough for you to gasp and cling to him.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

One hand cradled your back as the other massaged your chest, mouth working over your nipple with tongue and teeth until you were whimpering his name.

“Seong-je—”

He chuckled. “There she is.”

His hands slid lower, under your waistband. “Can I touch you here?”

You nodded, breathless.

He pushed your shorts down, slowly, until you were straddling him in nothing but your panties. His fingers pressed lightly over the damp fabric.

“Already wet?” he teased. “Did I do that?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Good.”

He slid the fabric aside and dipped two fingers through your folds. You moaned, hips twitching.

“You’re soaked,” he said, voice rough. “You’ve been needing this for a while, haven’t you?”

You buried your face in his neck, nodding.

His fingers circled your clit gently, teasing, never giving you what you really wanted. “You ever touched yourself before?”

“…No.”

That made him groan. “Fuck. You’re gonna make me lose it.”

He eased one finger into you, slow and deliberate. You gasped, tightening around him instinctively.

“Shh… I got you,” he whispered, kissing your temple. “Just feel it.”

He added a second finger, curling them gently as he whispered filth in your ear.

“Feel how tight you are? Gonna stretch you out so good… make you mine.”

Your hips started to roll against his hand, chasing the pressure.

“That’s it,” he whispered, licking into your neck. “Let go for me, baby. Just like that.”

You came with a soft cry, trembling in his lap, clutching his shoulders like you’d fall apart without him. He kissed you through it, slow and deep, letting you ride the high with his fingers still inside you.

When you could finally breathe again, you whispered, “What about you…?”

He chuckled, dark and low. “Don’t worry. I’ll be inside you next time.”

You blinked.

“Oh, yeah,” he smirked. “You think I’m letting you go after this?”

———-

“The Quiet Between Us”

Pairing: Yeon Si-eun x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, slow-burn comfort

⸻

The wind was crisp today—cool enough to make you shiver despite the faint sunlight filtering through the trees in Yeongdeungpo Park. You tugged your sleeves over your hands and glanced beside you.

Yeon Si-eun was sitting on the park bench, back straight, hands resting neatly on his knees. His expression was neutral as always—guarded, distant—but you could tell he was relaxed in his own way. The gentle sway of his leg and the way he let out a soft breath every now and then told you more than his face ever did.

“You’re cold,” he said suddenly, his voice low.

You blinked. “What gave it away? My chattering teeth?”

His gaze flickered to you—dry, deadpan.

“You’re not that subtle,” he replied.

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. “You could offer me your jacket, you know. Like a proper gentleman.”

“I would,” he said without missing a beat, “but you’d probably drown in it.”

That made you laugh, and you didn’t miss the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. You loved that—you loved the way he didn’t smile often, but when he did, it felt like you’d uncovered something rare. You didn’t need big gestures with Si-eun. His presence, his quiet concern, was enough.

“You always come out here when you’re thinking,” you said, watching the small pond across from the bench. Ducks floated lazily, undisturbed by the cold.

“It’s quiet here.”

“You don’t like quiet?”

“No, I like it,” he said, turning his head slightly to look at you. “But when I’m with you, the quiet feels different.”

Your heart stuttered.

He wasn’t the kind of guy to say things like that. He wasn’t the type to offer compliments or be affectionate without reason. But every now and then, he dropped these quiet, thoughtful lines that left you breathless.

“Different how?” you asked softly.

Si-eun looked away, watching the leaves dance in the breeze. His brows drew together—not in irritation, just contemplation. You’d come to recognize the subtle shifts in his expressions.

“It’s not heavy,” he finally said. “Silence is usually… pressure. But with you, it’s not.”

You didn’t speak for a while, afraid that anything you said might shatter the moment. You simply leaned your shoulder into his, your touch light but intentional. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t move away.

He let you stay there.

That was enough.

⸻

You and Si-eun weren’t dating—at least, not officially. You weren’t even sure what you were. Friends, maybe. Companions. Something suspended in that space between understanding and unspoken affection.

But days like this made you feel like you didn’t need a label.

“You know,” you said after a while, watching a kid try to feed bread to a pigeon twice his size, “most people wouldn’t pick a cold bench over their warm beds on a weekend.”

He shrugged. “Most people aren’t me.”

“Mm, true. But most people aren’t this pretty, either.”

That made him pause.

“Pretty?”

“You know you are,” you teased. “If you ever wanted to stop beating people up, you could just model for skincare brands. You’ve got that ‘stone-cold beauty’ thing going for you.”

He gave you a flat look, but his ears were pink. That was enough for you to claim victory.

“You’re weird,” he said quietly.

“So are you.”

There was a pause. He was still looking at you, his gaze lingering just a moment too long to be casual.

“That’s why I don’t mind being around you,” he murmured.

You were pretty sure your heart forgot how to beat for a second.

⸻

Later, the two of you wandered the nearby streets, your footsteps naturally falling in rhythm. Si-eun didn’t talk much, but his presence filled the space in other ways. You always noticed the little things—how he walked on the side closest to the road, how his eyes subtly scanned your surroundings, how he slowed his steps if you fell behind.

There was comfort in that. In knowing that he cared in ways that didn’t need to be said aloud.

You stopped in front of a small convenience store.

“Want hot chocolate?” you asked.

He nodded once. You ducked inside, grabbing two cans of warm cocoa from the heated shelf. When you came back out, he was leaning against the wall, hands tucked into his pockets, face turned up slightly to the sky like he was trying to read something in the clouds.

You handed him one can.

“Thanks,” he said, fingers brushing yours as he took it.

The contact made you warm in a way the drink couldn’t.

You both stood there for a moment, sipping cocoa in silence.

“I used to do this alone,” he said suddenly.

You looked at him.

“Come out on weekends. Watch people. Drink hot chocolate.”

You smiled. “Sounds lonely.”

“It was.”

His eyes met yours. There was something unguarded in his gaze, a softness that didn’t come often.

“It’s not anymore,” he said.

“The Side No One Sees”

Yeon Si-eun x fem!reader

Tone: Soft angst + comfort | Slow burn vibes

Setting: Late evening, empty classroom, after a fight

I’ve had this in my drafts for so long 😭

⸻

The classroom was dark, the only light coming from the hallway as it spilled in through the cracked door. You sat on the desk across from him, your knees tucked up to your chest. He was slouched in his seat, back against the wall, breathing slow and deliberate.

His knuckles were raw again.

“You could’ve walked away,” you said quietly.

Si-eun didn’t answer right away. He stared down at his hands like they were foreign to him — like he didn’t quite understand why they always ended up this way. Blood on his knuckles. That distant, cold look in his eyes.

You shifted forward. “You didn’t have to fight back.”

“I did,” he said flatly. “There was no choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

His jaw clenched.

He didn’t snap at you — he never did — but his silence hit just as hard. Still, you didn’t leave. You never did. And maybe that was the problem. Or the answer.

After a long moment, he spoke again, voice low. “I know how this looks. To you. To everyone. Like I’m just trying to be something I’m not.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you think it.” He looked up at you then. His eyes, usually guarded and unreadable, were just… tired. “I know how people see me. Some cold, broken kid trying to act like I can win in a world that already chewed me up.”

You slid off the desk and crouched beside him, gently reaching for his hands. He flinched at first — not from pain, but like he wasn’t used to being touched unless it was in a fight.

“You never let anyone see this side of you,” you murmured. “Why me?”

His gaze dropped to your hands wrapped around his. His voice cracked just enough to sound like a whisper:

“Because you don’t look away.”

The silence between you now was different — not heavy, not sharp. It was something careful. Something new.

And in the flicker of fluorescent light, Si-eun didn’t seem like a fighter, or a tactician, or a boy trying to survive a world that wanted to swallow him whole.

He just looked like someone who was finally being seen.