choi yeonjun. 001

Choi Yeonjun didn’t need introductions on campus.

People already knew his reputation—charming, intense, and not someone you should get involved with. A red flag.

So when he chose to sit next to you in class, your friends noticed immediately.

“That’s not random,” they warned.

You ignored it.

Because with you, he felt different.

He listened closely, remembered small details, always said the right thing at the right time. Being around him felt easy—like you mattered more than anyone else.

“You’re different,” he told you once.

And somehow, that stuck.

The shift was subtle.

“You’re hanging out with them again?” he’d ask lightly. “I thought you had better taste.”

It sounded like a joke.

But next time, you hesitated.

“You don’t actually like that,” he’d say about something you enjoyed.

He sounded so sure… you started doubting yourself.

He never told you what to do.

He just made everything else feel wrong.

“Trying a bit hard today?” he’d say if you dressed up.

“That’s better,” when you didn’t.

Slowly, you adjusted.

Without realizing.

Your friends noticed first.

You canceled more. Checked your phone constantly. Seemed distant.

“They don’t really care about you,” Yeonjun said once, calm and certain.

And it planted doubt.

He didn’t isolate you.

He just made everyone else feel less important.

Less trustworthy.

Until you pulled away on your own.

And by then, it didn’t feel like control.

It felt like choosing him.

He was never loud.

Never obviously cruel.

He just changed things—quietly.

Until every decision came with one thought:

Would he like this?

And by the time you noticed— you didn’t know how much of you was still yours.