Requested by Oliv.
You noticed, but chose to tell yourself it was a coincidence.
Go Hyun-tak had never cared about being early to class. He used to stroll in late, knuckles scraped, tie crooked, acting like the world could wait.
But lately, he was always there before you.
Not beside you. Not talking to you.
Just… there.
You caught him once, standing near your desk, pretending to look out the window. When you walked in, he straightened immediately.
“Oh,” He said, like he hadn’t been waiting. “You’re early.”
“You’re earlier,” You replied.
He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”
You noticed there were no bruises on him anymore.
The second time, it was raining.
You hadn’t brought an umbrella. You stood under the school awning, debating whether to just run for it.
A hand appeared in your line of sight, holding out a black umbrella.
“Take it,” He said.
You looked at him. “What about you?”
“I live close.”
“That’s not true.”
He looked away. “I’ll manage.”
You didn’t take it at first. You remembered the hospital lights. The blood. The way he had chosen another fight over your tears after what happened with Seong-je.
“You don’t have to do this,” You said.
“I know,” He answered quietly.
That was the difference.
Before, he would’ve said he wanted to. That he had to. That he didn’t need your permission.
Now he just stood there, arm extended, giving you the choice.
You took the umbrella.
The next day, a paper was folded neatly inside your desk. A small note.
'You can return it whenever.'
No hearts. No “I miss you.” No pressure.
You started noticing smaller things.
He stopped lingering near the troublemakers in the hallway. When someone bumped into him on purpose, he didn’t even look back.
Once, you saw a group of guys trying to provoke him after school. Old rivals.
“Thought you got soft, Hyun-tak!” One of them shouted.
He only adjusted his backpack and said, “Guess I did.”
You froze.
The old him would’ve smiled before swinging.
Now he walked away.
And for a second, his eyes searched the street---until they found you watching from across it.
He didn’t wave. He just nodded once, like he wanted you to see.
A week later, he sat beside you in the library.
Not too close. Not like he used to.
“You still hate math?” He asked, flipping open his book.
You frowned. “You’re the one who almost failed.”
“Yeah,” He said. “Trying not to, this time.”
You glanced at him. “Why?”
He shrugged lightly. “Feels stupid to keep messing up.”
You both knew he wasn’t just talking about grades.
Silence settled, but it wasn’t suffocating. He didn’t try to touch your hand. Didn’t try to remind you of old memories.
After a while, he pushed a small carton of your favorite strawberry milk toward you.
“They were selling the last one,” He said casually. “Figured you’d complain if I drank it.”
You stared at it. “You remembered.”
He avoided your eyes. “You always shook it twice before opening it.”
Your chest tightened.
He hadn’t forgotten.
Days turned into quiet routines.
He walked a few steps behind you after school. Not close enough to assume anything. Close enough to step in if something happened.
He never mentioned getting back together.
Never said he missed you again.
But one afternoon, as you both waited at the crosswalk, you finally asked, “Why are you doing all this?”
He didn’t pretend not to understand.
The light turned red. Cars rushed past.
“I told you I’d walk away next time,” He said.
“That’s not what I mean.”
He looked ahead, jaw tense. “I can’t erase what happened. I know that.”
You stayed silent.
“But I can be different now,” He continued. “Even if you’re not with me.”
The honesty caught you off guard.
The light turned green. You both started walking.
After a few steps, he added, almost too quietly, “If you ever think I’m… safe to stand next to again, that’s enough.”
He didn’t look at you. Didn’t wait for reassurance, just kept walking at your pace.
Then you stopped. No red lights, no cars, no real reason. You called out his name, but you weren't sure why.
He stopped.