Jun-tae’s voice kept going, steady, methodical, like he was listing weather reports.
“—and that area’s controlled by a small crew. Two guys, two girls. Watch out for the girl though. Ji-hye. People say she’s scary. Strong. Doesn’t hesitate.”
Si-eun didn’t hear anything after the name.
The color drained from his face so fast Jun-tae stopped talking. “…You know her?”
Si-eun swallowed. His throat hurt.
Ji-hye hated fighting. She used to flinch when voices got loud.
It hurt when I found out.
Feels like—
Sunlight through classroom windows. Old desks carved with doodles and initials. Ji-hye leaning over his shoulder, whispering answers she already knew just to make him smile.
“Si-eun, you’re gonna break the curve again,” she teased, laughing softly. He pretended not to care. He always cared.
She gave her lunch away to kids who forgot theirs. She stayed late to help teachers clean. She waited for him every day.
Feels like it was a lifetime ago.
The phone shook in Si-eun’s hands.
“Ji-hye,” he choked out. “I—I don’t know how to say this.”
Silence. Then her breath hitched. “…What?”
“Your friend—she—” His voice broke completely. “She didn’t make it.”
The sound Ji-hye made wasn’t a scream. It was worse. Small. Crushed.
Days later, it was her turn.
“Si-eun,” she whispered through tears. “Su-ho’s in a coma.”
He slid down the wall until he hit the floor, forehead against his knees.
We have matching wounds.
Now—
One of her gang members lunged at Si-eun, fists flying. Si-eun blocked, countered, breath sharp and controlled.
Ji-hye stood behind them.
She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Her nails dug into her palms like she was holding herself together by force alone.
Her eyes shined—but she refused to let the tears fall.
But mine’s still black and bruised.
Si-eun saw her. Really saw her.
And it hurt worse than any punch.
Hospital lights. Too white. Too quiet.
Ji-hye stood outside the building where her friend had died, hoodie pulled tight around her frame. Across the street, the hospital where Su-ho lay unconscious loomed like a ghost.
She felt his stare before she saw him.
Si-eun stood there, eyes hard. Accusing. Hurt.
She opened her mouth— Nothing came out.
But yours is—
That night, Si-eun scrolled without thinking.
Ji-hye’s post popped up.
She was smiling. Arm slung around one of her new friends. The caption was simple. Normal. Like she wasn’t carrying ghosts in her chest.
Perfectly fine.
Minutes later, she saw his.
Si-eun. Baku. Hyun-tak. Jun-tae. All of them smiling like they’d finally found solid ground.
Perfectly fine.
Ji-hye set her phone face down. Si-eun locked his screen.
Two people with the same scars— Bleeding in different places, pretending they didn’t still hurt each other just by existing.