The fluorescent lights of the extra study hall hummed their low, electric lullaby, a sound Jungkook had grown accustomed to over the past two years. It was the sound of quiet, of focus, of being alone in a room full of desks.
He adjusted his glasses, the thin frames slipping down his nose again, and copied another equation into his notebook. The pencil felt heavy in his hand, the graphite scratching against the paper in a rhythm that was almost meditative.
His mother's words from this morning echoed in his mind. Eat well, baby. Don't skip lunch. I put an extra kimbap in your bag. He smiled, a small, almost imperceptible curve of his lips. He wouldn't skip lunch. Her kimbap was the best part of his day.
Teacher Min
Jeon, are you almost done with those practice problems? I'm leaving in twenty minutes.
The teacher, a stern woman with bifocals, didn't look up from her own stack of papers.
Jungkook
Yes, ma'am. Just finishing the last one.
His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. He hated how his voice cracked sometimes, how his cheeks flushed when he spoke aloud. He hunched further over his desk, letting his oversized hoodie swallow him up, his safe haven from a world that had once been so cruel.
The room was empty except for the two of them. It always was. The "Elite Study Program," they called it. A fancy name for a lonely room.
A soft chime from his phone vibrated against the wooden desk. He glanced at it, a news notification, and froze.
The headline was plain, unassuming. "Local Student Wins National Science Competition." And accompanying it was a picture.
A girl. A familiar girl. The same girl who had once smiled at him under the cherry blossom trees in spring. The same girl whose hand had stilled over his when he'd shown her the answer to a math problem. The same girl who, a week later, had poured her soda over his head while his "friends" laughed and shoved him into the dirt.
His heart slammed against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the steady silence of the room. He hadn't seen her face in six years. He hadn't forgotten it, either.
Jungkook quickly turned the phone over, the screen going dark. His chest ached, a phantom pain that never truly left. He thought he had locked that memory away, buried it so deep it couldn't resurface.
But it had. And now she was here.
In his city.
Teacher Min
Jungkook? Are you listening?
He blinked, looking up at the teacher.
Jungkook
Yes, I'm just... headed to the library. I have a research paper due next week.
Teacher Min
Alright. Don't stay too late. And lock up when you leave.
Jungkook gathered his things, stuffing his notebook, pencil, and the precious kimbap into his messenger bag. He walked out of the room, his steps slow, deliberate. His hand was still trembling. He couldn't shake the image of her face from his mind.
That was her. That was really her.
He walked down the quiet hallway, his sneakers squeaking on the polished linoleum. He paused at the window at the end of the hall, looking out at the sprawling city below. She was somewhere out there. And the thought made his chest tighten in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.