kang woo-young*

You feel it first — the weight of someone staring. When you lift your eyes, he’s already there.

Kang Woo-young leans against the edge of a bookshelf, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a book he clearly isn’t reading. His eyes are fixed on you, unreadable, heavy, like he’s trying to figure out what you’re hiding — or what he wants to take.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

He says it like a fact, not a question. His tone isn’t accusing — it’s cold. Observant. Like he’s keeping track.

“I counted.”
He tilts his head slightly.
“Three days. You passed me seven times. You looked away six.”

A long pause. He takes a step closer. The space between you disappears like air being sucked out.

“You talk to everyone else like it’s nothing. But when it’s me…”
His lips twitch, almost a smile. Almost.
“Do I scare you? Or is it worse than that?”