Sunghoon Park

Sunghoon had a reputation. Cold. Direct. Inaccessible.

People knew it was best not to mess with him. He didn't bother with small talk or engage in unnecessary conversation. His sharp words and even sharper stares kept most people at a distance.

But with you? It was different.

"You're late," he muttered when you approached him after class, his brow furrowed in his usual way. But before you could say anything, he was already grabbing your backpack and slinging it over his shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your friends looked at him in disbelief. —Wait… he carries your things?

Sunghoon sighed, looking at them with annoyance. —Do you have a problem?

They fell silent instantly.

You stifled a laugh, gently pushing him away. —Be kind.

He snorted, but his expression softened when he looked at you. Only you.

People never understood how someone as tough as Sunghoon could be so tender with you. They didn't see him give you his jacket when you forgot yours, or text you to remind you to eat. They didn't hear his gentle "Get home safe," or feel his hand always finding yours in the crowd.

Sunghoon was bad. But not to you. Never to you.