The sunlight crept through the blinds, brushing across my face with a warmth that felt foreign, almost alien. My eyes fluttered open, heavy, and instinctively I shifted—only to realize I wasn't alone.
Dae-hyun's chest was beneath my head, steady and warm. I froze. My heart thudded painfully against my ribs.
"…Huh?" I whispered, barely daring to breathe.
He stirred slightly, his eyes half-lidded, a lazy, almost mischievous smile tugging at his lips. "Morning," he said softly. "You… fell asleep on me."
I shifted upright, heat rising to my cheeks. "I—I didn't mean to!" My hands fumbled against the bedsheets, trying to make myself smaller, less intrusive.
He chuckled, a low, comforting sound that made my stomach twist in an unfamiliar way. "It's fine," he murmured, reaching out to steady my shoulder when I wobbled. "You looked exhausted. I didn't want to wake you."
I swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze. "…Why did you even let me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Because you needed it," he replied simply, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world. His calmness both infuriated and comforted me.
We sat in silence for a moment. I could feel the faint rhythm of his heartbeat, steady and grounding, and I hated how much it made me want to stay.
Finally, he broke the quiet. "So… what do you usually eat for breakfast?"
I blinked. "…I… I don't really eat breakfast," I admitted. My voice sounded strange even to me.
He tilted his head, curious. "Really? Even when you were at school?"
"…I… didn't have time, or… or appetite," I muttered.
Dae-hyun nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. "Okay… well, we can fix that. Do you like eggs? Toast? Pancakes?"
I felt my lips twitch into a small, embarrassed smile. "…I guess… I like pancakes."
He grinned, the first full, bright smile I'd seen that morning. "Perfect. Pancakes it is."
While he busied himself in the kitchen—clumsy, but careful—I watched. Something about the sight calmed a knot in my chest.
"You know," he said over his shoulder, "I want to know more about you. What you like, what you don't, what makes you happy."
I blinked, unsure. "…I don't… know if I have much happiness."
He set a plate of pancakes in front of me, their golden surface steaming. "Well, let's start small then. Today, pancakes. Tomorrow… maybe something else."
I hesitated, then picked up a fork, eyes on the food. The first bite was warm and soft, comforting in a way I hadn't realized I needed.
"See?" he said, sitting across from me. "Not bad, right?"
"…No," I admitted, voice quiet. "…It's… good."
He smiled, leaning forward slightly. "Good. That's a start."
I looked up at him then, really looked, I didn't feel the urge to pull away. He didn't pressure me, didn't push. He just… existed beside me, patient, kind.
"…Dae-hyun…" I murmured.
"Yeah?" he asked softly, tilting his head.
"Thanks… for letting me… be here."
His smile widened, warm and real this time. "Always," he said simply. "You don't have to worry about a thing, Woo-jin. Not today."
And somehow, against all my defenses, against all the walls I'd built around my heart, I let myself believe him, if only for a moment.
Later.
My hands were tucked into my sleeves, shoulders hunched. Even in the open air, I felt tense, aware of every passerby, every glance.
Dae-hyun noticed. "…You okay?" he asked, eyes soft as he glanced at me.
I shrugged, trying to sound casual. "…I'm fine."
He didn't press, just nodded, letting silence stretch between us. Silence that wasn't suffocating like it usually was with others. With him, it was… safe, somehow.
We reached the park, the air alive with laughter and the scent of flowers. Children ran past us, their carefree joy making my chest ache with memories I didn't want to face.
Dae-hyun slowed, walking beside me on the cobblestone path. "So… tell me something," he said, glancing at me. "What do you like? Hobbies, food, music… anything."
I stiffened slightly. "I… I don't really have hobbies." My voice was quiet, hesitant. "…I like to read sometimes."
He smiled. "Read? That's good. What kind of books?"
"…Fiction, mostly," I admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "…I like… stories where the hero wins, even if everything else is against them."
Dae-hyun nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. "Sounds like someone I know."
I blinked. "…What do you mean?"
He leaned slightly closer, smirk tugging at his lips. "Someone who's strong, even when the world's against him. Determined. You know… resilient. That's you..!."
My chest tightened. "…I'm not like that," I murmured.
"You are," he insisted, softly. "I've seen it. Every time you smile, even a little, every time you stand up after being hurt… you're stronger than you realize."
I looked down, embarrassed. "…I just… I'm scared a lot."
"I know," he said, voice gentle. "It's okay to be scared. I'm here."
We walked past a fountain, the water sparkling in the sunlight. He stopped, turning to me. "…Do you want to sit for a bit?"
I nodded, and we found a bench under a big oak tree. We sat quietly for a moment, the city noise fading behind the rustle of leaves.
"So," he said after a pause, "what's your favorite food?"
I tilted my head. "…I don't… really know."
"You don't know? Come on, everyone has something they like," he teased lightly, nudging my shoulder.
"…I… like pancakes," I muttered, heat rising to my cheeks.
He grinned. "Pancakes, huh? Good choice."
We laughed quietly together, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of something warm inside me. A connection I hadn't allowed myself to feel before.
After a while, he asked, "Do you want to play on the swings?"
I froze. "…I haven't… in years."
"That's okay," he said, offering his hand. "We'll do it together."
I hesitated, then took it. The wind rushed past me as we swung back and forth, laughter bubbling out of me before I could stop it. My stomach felt light, unburdened for a moment.
"You're… really laughing," he said, grinning.
"I… I didn't think I could," I admitted, breathless.
"Well, look at you," he teased gently. "Breaking your own rules."
I laughed again, heart thudding. "…Thank you," I whispered.
"For what?"
"For… everything," I murmured, and he just smiled, warm and steady.
The sun began to dip lower in the sky, shadows stretching. He walked me to the edge of the park, stopping when we reached my street.
"…Do you want me to come in?" he asked tentatively. "…Just to say hi?"
I froze. "…I… I can't," I said quickly, stepping back. "…It's… complicated."
He tilted his head, concern flickering across his face. "I get it. But… if you want me to, I will."
"I… can't," I repeated, shaking my head.
He hesitated, then simply nodded. "…Okay. But I'll be right here if you change your mind."
I swallowed hard as he left, my chest tight. His kindness, his patience… it made me feel exposed, weak, and yet… strangely safe.
When I entered my house, the tension returned. Parents' eyes, cold and calculating, waited. But I didn't mention him. Not yet. I couldn't.
And somewhere, deep inside, I felt a flutter—a small hope that maybe, just maybe, I could trust him.
The moment I opened the front door, the smell of polished wood and faint perfume hit me like a wall. My parents were waiting in the living room, as always, the rigid posture and sharp eyes making me feel smaller than I already did.
"…Where were you?" my father asked sharply, not even a hint of warmth in his voice.
My mother's eyes narrowed, lips pressed tight. "…Trying to runaway?"
I swallowed, my stomach twisting. "...I wasn't trying to run away.." I mumbled, voice barely audible.
My father leaned forward, his tone cold. "Then what the hell where you doing? "
" I forgot."
"Just imagine how he ruined our reputation." My dad slammed the wall that made me flinch.
My mother's hands trembled slightly, a rare crack in her composed mask. "…You don't understand, young man. Who new what were doing? This could ruin our reputation!"
I felt a surge of anger, sharp and burning. "…I don't care about your reputation!" I shouted, my voice shaking. "…I'm not a toy for your social image!"
I let my anger flow. "…I'm a person!" I added, tears welling up. "I have thoughts, feelings, and I'm not here for you to control!"
My mother gasped, then raised her hand. Before I could react, her palm met my cheek with a sharp crack. I stumbled back, stunned, hot tears spilling down my face.
"My son!" my mother snapped, voice trembling. "You're ruining everything! You're making me look like a failure! Do you know how humiliating this is?"
I pressed my palms to my face, trembling with a mixture of rage and shame. "…I… I don't care!" I whispered, voice cracking. "You think this is about reputation, but it's not! You… you just don't care about me!"
I shook my head violently. "…I can't… I can't do this!" I muttered, the sobs wracking my body. "I'm tired of being afraid, of being beaten… of living like this!"
My father stepped forward, voice tight with anger. "This is how you behave under my roof? You ungrateful child!"
My tone hardened, "Enough!" I said sharply. "You don't get to hurt me. You don't get to scare me. I'm your son!"
Both parents froze, startled at the intensity in his voice. I swallowed hard, staring at them.
"…soo treat me like a so.," I said quietly, still trembling, avoiding my parents' gaze.
My mother's hands twitched at her sides, but she said nothing.
I wiped my face roughly, breath shaking. "…I don't want to be part of your reputation," I muttered. "…I won't do anything you say just to make you proud. I… I won't play your games."
I ran to my room.