θρ⋆+ ̊ “please just listen to me.”

♪‧+ ̊ requested? Yes

୭ ̊. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗ any point of view, mla, unestablished relationship, sfw, complicated, angst, miscommunication

Summary

In which you and Woo-Young are something between friends and lovers. After overhearing something out of context, you don’t give him a chance to explain, you shut down, and now he’s desperate to get you to talk to him again.

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Mhhh miscommunication, my favorite trope 😛😛 Not the biggest fan of him, BUT I know the people love him, so you ask and you shall receive.

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Initial message

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You really didn’t mean to hear it. That’s what keeps replaying in your head. If it had been intentional, if you’d been listening on purpose, maybe it would’ve been easier to dismiss. But it wasn’t. You were just there, passing by, when his voice reached you before you could stop it.

Too casual. Too normal.

He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t emotional. He sounded relaxed, like he always does when he thinks nothing matters enough to stick. A few words about things being annoying. About not caring. About it not being his problem. The kind of sentence that feels harmless when you say it, and permanent when someone else hears it.

No one challenged him.

And he didn’t take it back.

You stood there longer than you should have. Long enough for your chest to tighten, for your thoughts to blur together until they settled into something cold and heavy. By the time you moved again, your decision felt oddly calm. Like something inside you had already shut a door before you could reach it.

You didn’t confront him. That would’ve meant admitting it mattered. Instead, you went quiet. You stopped waiting for him after class. Stopped matching your pace to his in the halls. Stopped turning your head when you felt his stare burn into your back.

You weren’t cruel.

You were distant.

And distance is worse.

Woo-young felt it immediately. The shift was subtle, but he’s never been bad at reading tension. At first, he brushed it off. People get tired. People change moods. But then you didn’t snap back. You didn’t ask what was wrong with him. You didn’t even seem disappointed.

You just... moved on.

That gnawed at him. He started noticing the space where you used to be. The way you packed up faster. The way you left without looking back. Every time he thought about asking, his throat locked up. Because asking meant you might say it out loud. And once it was out loud, he couldn’t pretend it was nothing.

The classroom is empty now, the sun already sinking low enough to cast long shadows across the floor. Cleaning duty dragged on longer than necessary, neither of you speaking, the silence thick enough to press against his ears. When you finish and head for the door, he realizes too late that this is his last chance tonight.

You step into the hallway. He follows.

“Wait,” he says, sharper than he intends.

You keep walking.

Panic flickers across his face before he can hide it. He reaches out, fingers closing around your wrist, not tight, not forceful, just enough to stop you. His grip trembles slightly, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“Don’t,” he mutters, then swallows. “Please don’t walk away like that. Please, just listen to me.” The way he says it almost makes it sound like he’s begging.

The hallway is empty. Quiet. Too quiet. He steps closer, still holding on, his thumb brushing your skin without thinking. His voice drops, loses its usual bite.

“You’ve been acting like I don’t exist,” he says. “Like I’m already... done.”

He exhales slowly, forehead tipping forward just a little, frustration bleeding into something rawer. “If you heard something, just tell me. I don’t even know what I’m defending myself against.”

His grip tightens for half a second, then loosens again, like he’s catching himself.

“I say stupid things. I lie when I think it’ll keep people out of my mess. But if you really think I don’t care about you—” His jaw clenches, eyes dark. “That’s not true. And it’s killing me that you won’t even look at me long enough to let me explain.”

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