one

The campus was too loud for a Monday.

Even with her headphones on, Y/N could still hear the hum of conversations, skateboard wheels cracking against pavement, and the persistent whistle of a student handing out flyers for some underground rave she'd never go to. 

She tugged her oversized sweater sleeves over her palms and kept walking, dodging bodies like she was in some kind of silent war zone.

College was supposed to be a fresh start.

That's what everyone said when she left home. When she moved three cities away, she deleted half her contacts. When she got accepted into Hanyeon University, and told herself she'd never look back.

Then she walked into her criminology elective and saw him.

Geum Seong-je.

Sitting in the third row from the back, legs spread like he still ruled whatever room he walked into. Same lazy posture, same heavy stare, half-lidded like he didn't care about anything, but she knew better. She used to know everything.

Y/N froze in the doorway. The breath in her lungs caught like it had somewhere to be. He didn't look up. Or maybe he did, she couldn't tell. Her heart was already thudding too loudly in her ears.

No way. No fucking way.

She hadn't seen him in over two years.

Not since that night at the underpass. When she'd looked him dead in the eye and said, "I can't love someone who chooses them over me."

Then she left. She never looked back.

But he was here now.

In her class.

In her space.

And he looked, older. Sharper jawline. Broader shoulders. But still him. The same burn in her chest when she saw him. Same warning in her gut.

She took the seat farthest from him. Back corner. She didn't even take notes. She couldn't. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.

Later, when class ended and she tried to bolt, the worst thing happened.

He stood up.

Turned around.

"Y/N."

His voice hadn't changed. Still low. Still heavy like a punch wrapped in velvet.

She didn't turn around. She couldn't. If she did, she'd crumble. Or scream. Or both.

"Hey."

Still soft. Still dangerous.

She took a breath that felt more like a swallow of broken glass and turned.

There he was.

His eyes met hers, and just like that, it all came flooding back. Blood. Loyalty. The smell of winter on his coat. Her fingers tangled in his hoodie. 

His lips on her neck. The way she cried in his arms the night her brother got beat up because of Union shit, and how Seong-je had looked away, jaw clenched like guilt was a poison he'd swallowed willingly.

"Didn't think I'd see you here," he said, eyes scanning her face like he wasn't sure if she was real.

She blinked. Her voice came out flat. Cold. Controlled.

"You shouldn't have."

He flinched. Barely, but she saw it. And it hurt.

She walked past him.

Didn't look back.

That night, she couldn't sleep.

She lay in bed, sheets tangled, laptop screen glowing with her half-written essay blinking like an open wound.

He was supposed to be gone. Done. Past tense.

Not in her 9 a.m. class. Not in the seat closest to the aisle, like he wanted to be noticed, but wouldn't dare admit it.

Not looking at her like that.

Like she had left him.

Across campus, Seong-je sat on the rooftop of his dorm, cigarette between his fingers, barely lit. He hadn't smoked it. Just let it burn. Like her voice still echoing in his head.

"You shouldn't have."

Maybe she was right.

But that never stopped him before.