Y/N's footsteps echoed as she made her way back to the spot behind the school.
The path was empty now. The chaos from earlier… gone.
Blood stains still marked the ground. A broken phone lay cracked near the wall. But the people—Yuri, Keifer, the gang—vanished like shadows after a storm.
She stood there, breathless.
"Yuri?" she called, voice a little shaky.
Nothing.
Only silence answered.
She stepped forward again, eyes scanning every corner, her heart pounding harder with each unanswered call.
"Yuri…?" she tried again, softer this time—almost a whisper.
Still no one.
She clenched her fists.
Why does it feel colder here now?
Why does it bother me that he's not here…?
A single gust of wind blew past her, and she hugged her arms around herself, trying to block out the quiet.
But it wasn't just silence she felt—it was the emptiness of not knowing what happened next.
Her knees felt weak. The stillness around her only made the knot in her chest tighter.
"Yuri…" she whispered again.
No answer.
"Yuri…" her voice broke slightly, trembling.
She stood there like that, for a moment—just the echo of his name and the wind brushing past her skin.
Tears welled in her eyes before she even realized it.
One slipped down her cheek. Then another.
She didn't wipe them away.
Instead, she turned and began walking back through the hallway, her footsteps soft and shaky against the floor.
Her vision blurred. The walls warped and stretched in her mind. It felt like she was floating, or maybe sinking—she couldn't tell.
Why am I crying?
Why do I feel like something's wrong?
"Yuri…" she murmured once more, almost like a prayer now.
She didn't know where she was going. Her legs just moved on their own. But her heart? Her heart was still somewhere back there, in that empty space where he should've been.
As she passed by the old science wing, the corridor suddenly blurred—
A hand shot out from the side.
She gasped—
Pulled.
Dragged inside a dark, empty classroom.
Before she could scream, a hand clamped over her mouth. Warm. Shaking.
Sticky.
Her back hit the wall, heart pounding like thunder. Her eyes wide, breath frozen.
The hand—
It was covered in blood.
She flinched, eyes searching in the dim light—
And then she saw him.
"Yuri…?"
His face was shadowed, bruised. Lip cut. Knuckles raw. One side of his shirt stained dark red.
His breathing was ragged. His eyes locked onto hers—sharp, but soft beneath the storm.
He slowly removed his hand from her mouth.
She could barely whisper, voice breaking.
"Yuri… you're—"
"I'm fine," he muttered, looking away as if trying to hold back the weight of everything.
But she didn't move.
She just stared at him, eyes already filling again.
He's here.
He's hurt—but he's here.
Her voice cracked as she finally spoke, barely above a whisper.
"What is going on, Yuri…?"
Her eyes searched his bruised face. "Why are you here… like this?"
Tears were already sliding down her cheeks—she hadn't even noticed.
She wasn't crying. Not with sobs or gasps. But the tears… they fell on their own.
Yuri looked at her, frozen for a moment. The usual sharpness in his eyes dulled, like the fight in him had flickered out.
He didn't answer right away.
He just stared.
At the way her brows furrowed.
At the way her fists clenched.
At the tears she didn't even realize were falling.
And for the first time in a long time… he looked like he didn't know what to do.
His voice, when it came, was hoarse.
"I had to finish it."
A pause. He leaned against the door like the weight of everything was finally pressing down.
"I didn't want you to see me like this…"
Y/N stood still, heart aching. There were too many emotions swimming in her chest—relief, anger, sadness. Something else, too.
She swallowed hard.
"Too late for that."
Y/N gently pressed the cloth against the cut on his cheek, her hand shaking only slightly. She dabbed carefully, trying to avoid the blood that had dried on his skin.
"Yuri…" she started softly, her voice full of that quiet urgency. "Let's go to the infirmary. You need help."
Yuri barely flinched, eyes distant, but his hand went to push her away, stopping her from wiping his wound further.
"No." His voice was firm, but there was a weariness behind it.
Y/N pulled back, frustration blooming. She stood up, hands clenched at her sides.
"Then let's go to the hospital." Her tone was sharp now, the words spilling out before she could stop them.
Yuri's lips twitched—like he almost smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He leaned back, looking almost relaxed despite the blood.
"Miss," he said, the sarcasm creeping in, "are you worried about me?"
Y/N stopped, her heart racing. She hadn't expected him to ask that. She stared at him, eyes blazing.
"Yuri, this isn't the time for jokes!" She took a step forward, her voice rising. "You're hurt! Yuri."
Yuri leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with her. His expression softened just enough to show a glimpse of what lay beneath the mask—the conflict, the hesitation.
"No infirmary. No hospital." His voice was low, but the command was unmistakable. "Let's go somewhere else."
"Where?" Her voice caught in her throat, confusion and concern fighting with her anger. She didn't want to argue anymore, she just wanted him safe.
Yuri's smirk was back, though it was quieter, subtler now. "Just follow me."
Classroom.
Y/N stepped inside quietly, the door creaking just slightly. The room had mostly cleared out, but a few students still lingered, chatting in low tones.
She walked straight to her desk, grabbed her bag—and then turned to where Yuri's bag was still slung across his chair.
Without hesitation, she picked it up.
The room went quiet.
A couple of heads turned. One student dropped their pen.
Whispers started immediately.
"Wait… is that Yuri's bag?"
"I swear it is—nobody touches his stuff."
"Why is she holding it?"
"Do you think she has something going on with him…?"
Y/N pretended not to hear, her face neutral, but her heart beat hard in her chest. Her grip tightened on both bags as she turned toward the hallway, jaw clenched.
⸻
Hallway.
The whispers followed her.
"…that's definitely Yuri's bag."
"I heard he doesn't even let Keifer touch it."
"She's new, right? What's up with her?"
"Do you think she's the reason he's all bruised up?"
Y/N kept walking, steady steps echoing through the corridor. She didn't look at anyone. But every gaze felt like a weight on her back.
Why do they care so much?
She exhaled through her nose, trying to ignore the burning in her chest.
I'm just helping him. That's all.
But deep down… even she didn't know if that was the whole truth.
Y/N yanked open the car door and threw Yuri's bag onto the passenger seat.
Yuri raised an eyebrow, casually chewing on a toothpick, leaning back in his BMW like he hadn't just been punched and half-bled out an hour ago.
"Oh—whoa, whoa," he said, mock offended. "What's with the temper, Miss?"
Y/N slammed the door shut behind her, breath shallow, fists clenched by her sides.
"Yuri," she snapped, voice shaking not from fear—but from holding back too long. "What the hell is going on in this university?"
Yuri tilted his head, amused.
Y/N didn't wait for an answer.
"Why does everyone look at you like you're some walking threat? Why does your name make people shut up or whisper? And why—" she pointed to the bag like it was cursed, "—why do those hallway bitches act like me touching your damn bag is some kind of betrayal?"
Yuri blinked.
Then smirked.
Y/N's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Don't," she warned, "do not smile at me right now, Yuri. I'm fuming."
His smirk curled deeper, but his eyes flicked to her face—reading her. She wasn't just annoyed. She was overwhelmed. Angry. Confused. And more than anything…
Worried.
He leaned a little closer, voice lower this time. Calmer.
"Because I'm not like the rest of them," he said simply.
Y/N's heart thudded in her chest.
"And," he added, "neither are you."
Y/N crossed her arms, still glaring at him.
"They said even Keifer doesn't dare touch your stuff. What's in your bag, anyway?" She leaned slightly toward the passenger seat, suspicious. "Some cursed weapon? Mafia documents? A portable dungeon?"
She exhaled sharply, her frustration only half-fading.
Yuri chuckled—actually chuckled, and it took her by surprise. That same annoyingly handsome smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned one arm on the steering wheel, turning slightly to face her.
"Why are you angry for nothing, huh?" he asked, voice light. "Getting worked up over rumors?"
Y/N's brows furrowed deeper, but he held up a hand, almost in surrender.
"Miss, there's nothing to hide in my bag. You want to see? Go ahead. Just boring stuff. Charger. Gum. Maybe a knife—kidding," he added quickly with a wink.
She didn't laugh. She just narrowed her eyes harder.
He went on, still smiling, but now his tone softened.
"And about Keif—they're just messing with you. I always let Keifer go through my things. He's my brother. Same with David, Felix. They even steal my lunch without telling me."
Y/N blinked, caught off guard by how casually he said brother. How warm his voice suddenly sounded when talking about them.
Then—he turned serious, just a little.
"So, Miss," he said, eyes locked on hers, "I'll let you take care of my stuff from now on."
Her heart skipped.
"And I'll take care of you."
Silence dropped like a pin between them.
Y/N looked away, cheeks warming, biting her lip to hide the small smile threatening to betray her.
"…Tch. You're so full of yourself," she muttered, pretending to look out the window.
But her hand rested gently on his bag.
She didn't let go.
She whisper " you and your bag "
Yuri turned the wheel sharply, taking the opposite road from the way home.
Y/N blinked. "Hey—this isn't the way back."
"I know," he said calmly, eyes on the road.
Her brows knitted together. "Where are we going then?"
"You'll see."
⸻
Some minutes later…
He pulled into a narrow path, stopping in front of a small, plain-looking house—nothing extraordinary. A little weathered, kind of suspicious. Definitely not where she expected to be.
"…A dungeon?" she muttered under her breath. "Seriously?"
Yuri stepped out of the car like he owned the world. He looked over his shoulder and said, "Here we are."
Y/N followed, skeptical. "This is where you wanted to go? Is there even a first aid kit in there?"
Yuri shot her a look over his shoulder. "Shhh. Miss, you're talking too much. Just follow me."
She clicked her tongue, annoyed, but trailed behind him anyway.
He walked up to the front door, punched in a passcode with casual confidence, and the door unlocked with a soft beep.
He pushed it open.
And what she saw next knocked the air out of her lungs.
"Damn." Her jaw dropped, eyes wide. "What the f—"
Inside was not what she expected.
The moment the door opened, a grey-themed interior unfolded before her eyes. Modern, industrial, and oddly cozy. A sleek pool table sat in the center. Plush black-and-charcoal couches lined the walls, and a small bar glowed from one corner. Everything was clean, organized—refined. There were stairs leading to an upper floor, and the lighting was dim but warm.
Yuri stepped in first, casually tossing his keys on a table.
Y/N was still frozen in the doorway.
"This is… your place?" she asked, stunned.
He smirked and turned to face her, arms casually draped across the back of the couch.
"What?" he said. "Expecting chains, rust, and screaming?"
She looked at him, mouth still open. "Honestly? Yes."
Yuri watched her from across the room, the corner of his lips curling into that signature smirk.
"Come up," he said, voice calm. "The medical kit's upstairs."
Y/N finally stepped fully inside, eyes still darting around, trying to process how this man—the most feared name in the university—lived like this.
Modern. Sharp. Clean. Like him.
She followed him up the stairs, her steps a little hesitant.
At the top was another open space—a bedroom, minimalist and cool-toned, with soft lights under the bed frame and shelves lined with books, records, and a few photos that surprised her.
Yuri opened a black cabinet near the wall, pulled out a sleek white case, and turned toward her.
"You gonna help or just stare at my place like it's a museum?" he asked, voice teasing.
Y/N scoffed but walked over, reaching for the kit.
"Sit down," she said, already snapping it open. "You brought me here, now deal with Nurse Y/N."
Yuri chuckled, lowering himself to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'm honored."
She rolled her eyes, but her hands were gentle as she dabbed at the dried blood on his cheek again.
For a few moments, silence filled the space—just the sound of her working, the soft clink of bottles, the slow, steady breathing between them.
"…Why do you have a place like this?" she finally asked.
Yuri didn't answer right away.
He just looked at her.
And the silence got deeper.