You liked Changbin.

You didn’t know why.

Maybe it was the way he laughed with his friends when he didn’t think anyone was looking. Maybe it was the way he ran his hand through his hair when he was focused. Or maybe it was just the feeling he gave you—electric, confusing.

But if anyone asked, you’d say nothing. Because how could you like someone who made you feel like trash?

He picked on you constantly.

A shove in the hallway. A snide comment during class. A loud laugh when you stumbled or dropped your things.

“Clumsy again? What a surprise.” “You really think that outfit works?"

The words stung. But the worst part was—

you never knew why.

“Why do you hate me so much?” you once asked him, voice too quiet to be brave.

He just scoffed.

“Maybe I just don’t like fake smiles.”

You smiled at him again anyway. A little broken. A little smaller.

“Okay.”

What you didn’t know was:

Changbin was furious with himself. Because every time he teased you, your eyes dimmed a little more. Every time he insulted you, your smile got shorter, more forced.

But it was the only way he knew how to get your attention.

He thought if he kept pushing— You’d push back. You’d see him.

He didn’t know he was breaking you instead.

Then it happened.

You ran out of class early that day. He had said something too harsh.

Something about how people only tolerated you. That you were just a pretty face without real worth.

You were already having a bad day. Already at your limit.

So you left campus early, tears blurring your vision— and you didn’t see the car coming.

You were rushed to the hospital, and unfortunately, you weren't waking up.. ---The next day..

The school whispered. Rumors spread fast.

“Did you hear?” “She was in an accident.” “Someone said she got hit.”

The boys who liked you or has a crush on you were having a mental break down. And your friends were panicking..