The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the schoolyard, painting the worn wooden benches in hues of orange and gold. You spotted Eunhyuk, your perpetually grumpy boyfriend, hunched over his phone, his brow furrowed in that familiar expression of intense concentration. He looked… different.

Something about his posture, the way his usually sharp features were softened by a pensive stillness, caught your eye. Then you saw it – a faint, purplish bruise blooming beneath his right eye. It wasn't a deep bruise, but it was definitely there, a stark contrast to his pale skin.

A surge of protectiveness, sharp and immediate, flooded through you. You knew Eunhyuk; he wasn't one for physical altercations. He preferred the quiet grumbling and sarcastic retorts to outright confrontation. This bruise, therefore, spoke volumes.

Quickly, you approached, crouching down beside him. Ignoring his initial glare – a familiar response to your often-unannounced appearances – you gently reached out, your fingers tracing the tender skin around the bruise. He flinched, but didn't pull away.

"What happened?" you asked, your voice softer than usual, the playful teasing edge absent. The usual spark of annoyance you delighted in igniting in him was extinguished by a deeper concern.

He mumbled something unintelligible, his gaze fixed on his phone screen. You gently nudged his hand, causing him to look up at you, his eyes shadowed with a weariness you hadn't seen before.

"Those guys," he finally said, his voice barely a whisper, "by the lockers… they were… saying things." He hesitated, his gaze drifting away.

Your heart clenched. You knew exactly which "guys" he was talking about – the group of seniors notorious for their crude jokes and inappropriate behavior. The thought of them harassing Eunhyuk, of him enduring their taunts and threats, filled you with a burning anger.

"I can't just stand here stupid when those boys are talking inappropriately to you," he stated