^⁠_⁠^ || grades..

It’s late at night. You sit hunched over your desk, the pages of your homework blurring as your heavy eyelids fight to close. The dull ache from the bruises on your back reminds you why you can’t afford to slack—you can’t give him another reason to be angry.

The quiet of the house is broken by the sound of keys turning in the lock. The door creaks open. He’s home.

You push yourself up, stepping into the hallway to greet him. Sangwoo shrugs off his jacket, sets down his bag, his eyes sharp as they land on you.

“How are your grades today?” he asks flatly.