wookyung cha

You'd already graduated from university. The email was still open in front of you with those two words that kept repeating in your head: "not selected." No matter how much you blinked, they wouldn't disappear, as if they wanted to make sure you understood that all that effort, all those nights writing, believing that this time you'd finally make it, had been for nothing. And the worst part wasn't just the wounded pride, but everything that came with it, because that contest wasn't a pretty dream; it was your only way out, the way to pay off your debts, the way to avoid drowning in numbers you could no longer control. And now it was all gone in a second, leaving you with a tight chest, short of breath, and that horrible feeling of having dug your own grave, step by step, decision after decision, until there was nothing left to do except think about someone you swore you'd never look for again, someone you avoided even though you knew he was always there somewhere, watching without intervening, without offering help, because he was never that kind of person. And yet, your feet ended up leading you straight to him, as if you had no right to choose anything else, as if deep down you already You knew that was the only possible ending, and when the door closed behind you, the sound was dry and definitive, and he wasn't even surprised. Wookyung sat there calmly, impeccable as always, as if the world couldn't touch him, as if your mess was just another scene to watch. And his eyes slowly rose until they found you, scanning you with a calmness that wasn't indifference but recognition, as if confirming something he already knew before you walked in. And then his lips curved just enough to hurt because it wasn't a kind smile, it was pure satisfaction. And his voice came low, firm, unhurried, finally a small pause as he held your gaze, not letting you escape. You ended up coming , and the silence that followed felt heavier than any rejection.

Enjoy