That Girl From Random Chatting

It was after school, the late summer sun stretching shadows across the hallway tiles. Most students had gone home, but some lingered, either for club meetings or just to loiter. Seo-joon preferred this time. Less noise. Fewer eyes.

He walked down the side corridor past the music room, his bag slung lazily over one shoulder. It was then he heard it.

"C'mon, I'm just joking. Don't be so cold."

A voice too old. Too greasy.

Seo-joon slowed.

Around the corner, just outside the stairwell, stood Yu-rim. Her body angled away, back against the wall. Her arms were pressed stiffly to her sides.

In front of her, a tall senior with a practiced grin leaned far too close.

Yu-rim's eyes were wide, her mouth slightly parted, frozen between politeness and panic.

"I heard you don't talk much," the boy continued. "But maybe you could make an exception… for me?"

His fingers reached toward a strand of her hair.

Seo-joon was already moving.

"Hey."

The word cut the air cleanly. No emotion, just friction.

The senior turned, annoyed at first. Then confused.

"You lost, junior?" he asked, his tone casual, but his stance changed.

Seo-joon looked at Yu-rim. "You okay?"

She hesitated. Then nodded, barely. Her eyes were trembling.

Seo-joon stepped closer. His shadow fell across the senior.

"Listen," the older boy said, raising his hands mockingly. "I was just talking to her."

Seo-joon's voice came low and flat:

"Yeah? Then here's me talking to you."

He paused, stared straight into the senior's face.

"I know where you live."

There was no rage. No growl. Just cold fact.

The silence that followed felt heavy. The senior's mouth opened like he wanted to laugh, but the sound never came. Something in Seo-joon's eyes erased the humor.

"You threatening me?"

"No. Just giving you something to think about."

The senior backed off with a scoff. "Crazy freak," he muttered, walking off fast.

Seo-joon turned to Yu-rim.

She was still pressed to the wall, her breathing uneven.

"You don't have to say anything," he said.

"I…" She stopped, lowered her gaze. 

He nodded. "Don't wait around after school alone. This place is full of people who think silence means consent."

She looked at him differently now, not with fear or awe. Something warmer. Like recognition.

...

anon-291: You guys hear what that quiet kid did?

hotrod95: What kid

anon-291: The new guy. Said some shit to Park Doyun. Like 'I know where you live.'

hotrod95: HAHAHA holy crap that's mental

anon-291: He wasn't even yelling. Just... looked at him like he meant it. Doyun's been quiet all afternoon.

someoneelse: What did the guy do to deserve it tho

anon-291: Rumor is he was messing with that weird girl. The one who doesn't talk.

someoneelse: Yu-rim? Shit.

...

She sat at her desk, her sketchbook open.

Not drawing.

Just staring at the half-finished sketch of Seo-joon. She'd started it after that rooftop afternoon.

Now she traced the lines of his eyes again, harder, more deliberate.

He didn't smile. He didn't say nice things. But he had said what no one ever had:

"Don't wait around alone."

The words echoed.

She'd been waiting alone for years.

Maybe… not anymore.

...

He leaned on the railing, cigarette unlit between his fingers.

The sky above was red-orange. Seoul breathed beneath it, loud and uncaring.

He'd meant what he said. He did know where that senior lived. He hadn't looked it up, he remembered.

He remembered everything.

The kinds of guys who touched girls like Yu-rim and walked away with laughter.

The kinds of nights where no one stepped in.

He wasn't trying to be a hero. He didn't believe in that kind of crap.

He just didn't like pretending not to care.

The cigarette stayed unlit.

He flicked it off the balcony and walked back inside.

...

Yoon Seongah heard about it before lunch.

She always heard things first, by choice, by design. Rumors moved like blood through the veins of the school, and she was the heartbeat that kept them circulating. But this one had a different rhythm.

"He told the guy he knew where he lived."

"Didn't even shout. Just stood there."

"Lee Yu-rim looked completely stunned. Didn't even say thank you."

She stirred her banana milk with the straw, ice cubes clinking against the glassy plastic. The voices around her buzzed, trying not to look like they were watching her, but they were. She was always the temperature in the room.

"Seongah," So-hee leaned in, voice hushed. "Did you hear what Seo-joon did?"

"I'm not deaf," Seongah replied coolly, not looking up.

So-hee flinched but didn't push further. That was smart. Seongah had little patience for sycophants when she was thinking.

She replayed what she'd heard from three different sources.

Han Seo-joon. Quiet. Dismissive. Strange. Not harmless, but not dangerous, not until now. She had seen that little glint of something sharp underneath his deadpan stillness, but this… This was a clean slice through the fabric of how things worked.

Nobody messed with seniors. You dodged them, flattered them, endured them. Even Yu-rim, with her silence and distance, had always stayed under the radar. Until now.

And he hadn't even made a scene.

Seongah's lips twitched as she stood from her chair, lunch forgotten. "Cover for me."

"Where are you-"

"Shut up, So-hee."

She didn't head toward the classrooms. Seo-joon wouldn't be there. She had learned his habits quickly after their last encounter, third floor stairs during lunch, the ones nobody used unless they wanted to nap or disappear.

She found him right where she expected, seated on the cold concrete stairs, headphones around his neck, an unread book open on his lap like he couldn't remember why he brought it.

"You really are full of surprises, Transfer," she said.

He didn't look up. "Seongah."

That was all, no smile, no sarcasm, no reaction. Infuriating and interesting.

"You threatened a senior. Not even loudly. I didn't know you had it in you."

"I didn't threaten him," he said, still not looking at her. "I made a prediction."

Seongah raised a brow and stepped closer, letting her shadow fall across the pages of his book. "Do you always do that? Predict violence?"

"If someone deserves it."

There it was again, that stillness that unnerved her more than shouting ever could. Not a lack of emotion, but something contained. Something heavy.

"I'm curious," she said, voice lighter than she felt. "Was it about Yu-rim?"

At that, he glanced up. His eyes were dark and unreadable, but there was the faintest tension in his jaw.

"Because if it was," Seongah continued, "you just made yourself a target."

Seo-joon shut his book. "Am I supposed to be scared?"

"No," she said honestly, tilting her head. "But I think you should be careful."

Something flickered in his expression then, not fear, not regret. Recognition. As if he understood exactly what she meant and had already accepted the consequences.

"You care about her?" she asked, half-teasing, half-searching. "Yu-rim?"

Seo-joon leaned back on the step, staring up at the skylight above them. "No," he said.

The denial was sharp.

Then quieter: "Not like that."

Seongah crossed her arms. "Then why interfere?"

He didn't answer right away, and when he did, his voice was quiet.

"Because people like that guy... they count on no one watching. On everyone pretending not to see."

Something in her chest twisted unexpectedly. Not attraction. Not admiration. Something worse. But Respect.

"You're not who I thought you were," she murmured.

Seo-joon's eyes flicked to hers. "And who did you think I was?"

"A misanthropic transfer who plays the loner game better than me," she replied, smirking. "But now I'm thinking maybe you're just… honest."

"That's a dangerous word, coming from you."

She laughed, short and amused. "Danger's in my job description."

Then she leaned forward slightly, enough that he could smell her perfume, expensive, like always, but today it felt unnecessary.

"Listen," she said, tone shifting. "You're going to make enemies pulling stunts like that. Seniors don't like being embarrassed. And Yu-rim? She's got eyes on her now. People don't forget when someone protects someone else."

"I didn't do it to be remembered," he said.

"Good," she said. "Because now you are."

She turned to leave, then hesitated at the stairwell.

"And if you ever do something like that again," she added, not turning back, "don't be so quiet about it. People should know what lines not to cross."

Seo-joon said nothing. But she could feel his gaze on her back like heat. Not desire. Not challenge. Something more dangerous: understanding.

And for the first time in a long time, Yoon Seongah felt like she wasn't the only one writing the script.

...

Yu-rim hadn't said a word after it happened.

Not to the teachers who passed her on the way to class.

Not to the girls who tried asking what that senior had said to her.

Not even when the whispers started again.

"He told the guy he knew where he lived."

"Didn't even raise his voice."

"She just stood there, like she couldn't breathe."

Yu-rim walked home that day with her earbuds in, volume off. She hadn't pressed play. She just needed the illusion, like she was in control of the silence.

Her apartment was cold. Not physically, just empty.

She locked the door behind her. Bolted it. Pulled the curtains shut. Her schoolbag hit the floor like a dead weight, and she dropped to her knees beside it, breath tight in her chest.

That boy's hand had been on her wrist. Tight. Smiling with his teeth. The kind of "flirting" that wasn't cute, just invasive. Like a spider testing where to bite.

She hadn't moved. Her voice had caught in her throat again, just like it always did when it mattered. The moment slowed down. She remembered the burn of fear in her lungs and the familiar disgust clawing up her ribs.

And then,

"I know where you live."

Seo-joon hadn't touched the senior. Hadn't shoved him or made a scene.

He'd just stood there.

And it worked.

Yu-rim curled her fingers into the rug. The numbness still hadn't left.

Why?

Why had he stepped in?

Why had he, the boy who never spoke unless spoken to, stood between her and something vile without hesitation?

She didn't remember saying thank you. She didn't even remember looking him in the eye. She had just fled, like always. Like she was still the scared little girl hiding under her desk.

The moonlight spilled through the edge of the curtain. Her room was bare. Her sketchbook was still on the desk.

She stood slowly, moved to the chair, and sat.

Her hands moved before she could talk herself out of it.

Pencil. Paper. Memory.

She didn't draw him smiling. She drew him exactly how he looked at that moment, shoulders squared, eyes steady, lips slightly parted like he wasn't trying to scare anyone. Just telling the truth.

She captured the way his hair fell over his brow. The curve of his jaw. The weight in his silence.

She shaded the background darker than usual.

She didn't know why.

When the page was done, she stared at it for a long time. Then she whispered a name under her breath.

"Han Seo-joon."

Not like a crush.

Like a question she wasn't ready to ask.

She didn't sleep that night. Not deeply.

And when she walked into class the next day, her eyes searched for him before she even realized.

She told herself it was just to understand.

But the truth was, something in her had shifted.

And she didn't know if she wanted it to shift back.