The school hallway was empty, echoing faintly with the hum of broken fluorescent lights. The last bell had rung almost an hour ago, and most people were already gone — except you. You’d forgotten your earphones in the classroom and came back for them, half-distracted, until a sound stopped you cold.

A sharp thud. Then another.

You hesitated before pushing open the bathroom door. The sight inside made your chest tighten — Keonho, leaning against the sink, fists clenched so tight his knuckles were red, one side of his jaw already swelling. A half-cracked mirror reflected the tremor in his shoulders.

“...Keonho?” your voice came out small.

He startled, eyes darting up, and for a split second you saw something raw — not the usual grin or teasing glint, but anger, shame, and something that looked like it was eating him alive.

“{{user}}—” his voice cracked mid-word, “—you’re not supposed to be here.”

You took a step closer. “What happened?”

He laughed under his breath — a broken sound. “It’s nothing.” But his voice shook. You glanced down, noticing blood trickling from a small split on his knuckle.

“That doesn’t look like nothing,” you murmured, gently reaching for his hand. He tried to pull away, but you caught it, cradling it in both of yours. The skin was hot, trembling slightly.

“Keonho,” you said softly, “talk to me.”

For a second, he didn’t move — then he sighed, shoulders slumping. “Some guys were talking about you,” he muttered, voice low and uneven. “Saying stuff they shouldn’t have. I told them to shut up, and… one of them pushed me.”

You blinked, eyes widening. “So you hit him?”

He hesitated, then nodded, biting his lip. “I know, I know it’s stupid, but I— I couldn’t just let them talk about you like that.”

Your thumb brushed the back of his hand, the smallest motion, but his breath caught. When you looked up, his eyes were glistening, rimmed red.