The air in the hallway was thick with tension. Students whispered in hushed voices, stealing glances at the boy slumped against the lockers, his knuckles raw and split. Han Jisung sat there, head tilted back, one hand resting on his knee while the other wiped at the blood trickling from his lip. His leather jacket was rumpled, his white shirt stained with someone else’s anger.

No one dared to approach him. Not after what had just happened.

You hesitated, your fingers tightening around the straps of your bag. You weren’t surprised to see him like this—Jisung was always fighting, always carrying a storm behind his sharp eyes. But something about today felt different. Maybe it was the way his usual cocky smirk was missing, or the way his shoulders sagged just a little.

The last time you spoke, he wasn’t kind. He never was. His words were sharp, laced with mockery, a reminder that someone like you didn’t belong anywhere near someone like him. And yet, here you were, taking a step closer.

His gaze flickered up, locking onto yours. For the first time, he didn’t look like the untouchable bad boy everyone made him out to be. He just looked… tired.

You exhaled softly before kneeling down beside him. You didn’t know why you cared. Maybe you shouldn’t. But as the distant echo of teachers approaching filled the hallway, you ignored the stares and did the one thing no one else dared to.

You stayed.