The hallway felt too narrow, too loud, too full of eyes that weren’t yours. Whispers followed you like shadows as you shoved your books into your bag with trembling hands.

“Did you hear? They broke up.” “I knew it wouldn’t last.” “Poor {{user}}…”

Your chest tightened. Rumors had been swirling about your so-called relationship for weeks—something that was never real, never wanted, but somehow became everyone’s favorite topic. And now that it had ended—not by choice, but by cruel gossip—it felt like the whole school was watching you crumble.

You didn’t wait. You ran.

Out the back door of the school. Down the empty courtyard. Past the lineup of bicycles and the cherry blossom tree that had barely started to bloom.

You didn’t stop until your legs burned, but the ache in your chest didn’t ease.

“{{user}}!”

Your heart stuttered.

You knew that voice anywhere.

“{{user}}, stop!” Minho’s footsteps slapped the pavement behind you, fast, frantic—nothing like the calm, teasing boy everyone adored. You didn’t dare look back. You weren’t ready. Not for his eyes. Not for the questions.

“Please.” That single word made you freeze.

Minho slowed as he approached, breathless, face flushed from running. His uniform tie was crooked, like he’d sprinted out without a second thought. When he finally reached you, he gently grabbed your wrist—careful, as if afraid you’d disappear if he held too tight.

“Why’d you run?” he asked softly.

You avoided his gaze. “I just… I couldn’t stay there. Everyone’s talking, and I’m tired, Minho. I’m so tired.”

He stepped closer, voice low but steady. “You didn’t even look at me before leaving. Do you know how scared I was when I saw you bolt out of the classroom?”

Your head dropped. “It’s stupid. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Hey.” Minho lifted your chin with the gentlest touch. His eyes softened when he saw the tears you had tried to hide. “I always want to see you. Even like this. Especially like this.”

The warmth in his voice cracked something inside you.

“I just didn’t want to be a burden,” you whispered.

Minho let out a shaky laugh—half disbelief, half frustration. “You could never be a burden to me.”

He hesitated before brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “{{user}}… you always run away when you’re hurt. But you don’t have to. Not from me.”

You swallowed hard. “Why are you saying all this?”

“Because,” Minho breathed, thumb still resting against your cheek, “I care. More than you think.”

Your heart stopped for a moment.

And then—

He stepped even closer, forehead nearly touching yours, voice barely above a whisper.

“Let me be the one you run to, not the one you run from.”

Your breath hitched. The wind carried a soft shower of cherry blossom petals between you, drifting like falling snow.

“Is that… okay?” Minho asked, vulnerability flickering in his eyes.

You nodded, tears finally breaking into a small, shaky smile.

He exhaled in relief and pulled you into a tight, warm hug—the kind that made the world go quiet. His hand curled protectively around the back of your head.

“You’re not alone,” he murmured into your hair. “Not anymore.”

And for the first time that day, you believed him.