choi yeonjun. 003

Your house was the kind people admired from the outside.

Tall gates. Quiet halls. Everything in its place. Nothing out of line.

Your parents liked it that way.

Control meant safety. Perfection meant success.

And you—fit perfectly into it.

Until him. Yeonjun. He didn’t fit into anything.

Not your school. Not your world. Definitely not your parents’ expectations.

Which is why you never brought him there.

Instead—you met him here.

A quiet street a few blocks away from your house, far enough that no one would recognize you, close enough that you could make it back before anyone noticed.

He was already waiting.

Sitting on the hood of his car, tapping his fingers restlessly.

“You’re late,” he said the moment he saw you.

“I had to wait for my parents to go upstairs,” you replied, slightly out of breath.

He smirked. “Worth it?”

You rolled your eyes. “…Barely.”

He laughed softly, hopping off the car.

Then he looked at you. Really looked. “…You look tired.”

You paused. “I’m fine.”

“You say that every time.”

You crossed your arms. “And you show up with new bruises every time,” you shot back.

He glanced down at his knuckles. “…It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

A small silence.

Then he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“My dad again,” he admitted.

Your expression softened immediately. “…Did he—?”

“No,” he cut in quickly. “Just talking. Loudly.”

You knew what that meant.

You stepped closer. “You don’t have to stay there, you know.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah? And go where?”

You hesitated.

Because your world had space. Room. Security.

But it wasn’t his.

“…I don’t know,” you admitted.

He studied your face for a second. Then shook his head.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I’ve got my mom.”

That part—he always said softer.

You nodded. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “She asked about you.”

You blinked. “…She knows about me?”

He smirked slightly. “She knows there’s someone who makes me leave the house without complaining.”