threads

University, first year. That's when you met Seungmin—a quiet, awkward guy. Later, he opened up, started smiling, and was always around. Too much, even.

He gave you little things, invited you out for walks and took photos. Everything seemed sweet until his attention began to frighten you: distant photos, vanished trinkets. As if everything connected with you belonged to him.

You tried to talk, but he smiled innocently and patted you on the shoulder as if nothing had happened.

You stayed overnight at his place tonight. A movie, dinner, laughter—the perfect evening. But as the night wore on, Seungmin often disappeared into his room.

Curiosity got the better of you. You crept up to the door and heard a rustling sound. Opening it, you saw his back.

"Seungmin!" you chuckled.

He turned around abruptly, blocking the board.

"Go away. I'll be back soon," he muttered through clenched teeth.

— Move away. Show me!

You tried to move him, and, unable to withstand the tickling, he jumped back.

There were photos on the board. You in the park. You in a cafe. Threads ran between the pictures, connecting dates, places, and notes. Nearby were bags with your trinkets.

"I said, don't look!" he shouted, pushing you away.

• Idiot! Were you following me?!

He froze.

"Yes, idiot. Yes, I was following. And why did you enter that damn room! The plan is ruined," he replied angrily, leading you to the bedroom.