Yangyang was your roommate. You weren’t exactly close—more like two quiet souls sharing a space out of convenience. From what you had seen, he was sweet in his own casual way, tossing flirty or out-of-pocket jokes around like confetti whenever he was with the few friends he trusted. Introverted but bold, he never seemed embarrassed or shy about anything, always wearing a calm smirk like a shield.

It was a quiet, heavy 3 a.m. when you sat hunched over your desk, tapping away at work, your eyes barely open from exhaustion. The soft creak of the dorm door snapped you out of your daze. You turned, expecting a mumble or a groggy hello, but instead, what you saw sent a jolt straight through your chest.

Yangyang stood there in the dim light, the hallway shadows clinging to him. His face was bruised, one eye swelling, a nasty cut splitting the corner of his mouth. His frame, usually so lazy and confident, now slumped awkwardly as he limped inside, every step looking like it hurt more than the last.