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TAPPING HER FOOT IMPATIENTLY, y/n was almost done preparing Kwon's study schedule for the academic year. The clock struck five, yet the chair opposite her remained empty. 'Five o'clock, and that moron's nowhere in sight,' she thought, shooting a glare at her phone as if the silent device could relay her frustration. This year had to be different. Senior year was her chance—maybe her last—to fix a record so stained that admissions officers might mistake it for a judicial confession. 

The past two years had been a blur of guilt, change, and bitter silence. Moving from city to city was nothing new; her parents' business made sure of that. But the move to Seoul wasn't just another stop on the map. It was an exile. Encino Hills, California, had been the first place she'd felt like she belonged, even amidst chaos. She'd made friends, real ones, and got swept into karate through one of them. It was all innocent at first—sweat-soaked afternoons, playful shoves, and the thrill of competition. 

But soon, things escalated after their first All-Valley win. The dojo gained notoriety, new senseis with wild ideas came in, and the line between practice and war blurred. And then there was the fight. 

The one that still replayed in her mind, as vivid as the day it happened. 

The echo of her own ragged breaths, the screams that splintered the air, the sight of best friend teetering at the top of the stairs. His eyes had locked with hers for a split second—a moment of pure, gut-wrenching fear. She had reached out, fingers stretching into the impossible space between them. But gravity was merciless, and in the blink of an eye, it claimed him. The thud of his body meeting the ground was a sound she could never forget, a sound that haunted her sleep and whispered accusations in her waking hours. 

She blamed herself. Not just for failing to save him but for letting it get that far. The red-hot temper that had surged in her veins and driven her fists to fly without thought had been her downfall. Her parents saw the danger too; the expulsion had made it clear. They packed up their lives, ripped her away from the only friends she'd ever cared for, and shipped her to Seoul. For once, she hadn't protested. How could she, when guilt weighed down every breath? Now, nearly two years later, life in Seoul was a quieter kind of battle. It was a place with no familiar faces, no remnants of a life she once had, and certainly no karate. 

Yet even with the academic grind and attempts to play the role of the reformed student, the past had its ways of catching up. Like today—March 6th. Eli's birthday. The urge to wish him was gnawing at her, a cruel reminder of the friendships she'd severed. But her phone stayed silent, an impassable chasm of lost connections.

The only distraction she had was waiting for Kwon. Kwon, with his cocky grin and insufferable attitude. He'd somehow made tutoring chemistry feel like a punishment designed specifically for her. All summer, she'd been forced to endure his flippant remarks in his thick Korean accent, and the way he strutted in late, sweaty from whatever brawl or stunt he'd just pulled. The kid had the audacity of a god, she thought bitterly, probably Zeus, if Zeus had been a delinquent high schooler who couldn't grasp basic chemical equations.

Finally, after an hour of waiting, the library doors groaned open. Kwon sauntered in, muscles showcased by his tank top, hair still damp with sweat, and wearing a pair of Karate Gis. She stiffened at the sight. He caught her eye, smirking like he'd just won a bet.

"You're late," y/n said, voice flat, masking the storm brewing inside.

"Well, you know what they say... time is relative," he quipped, pulling out the chair with a screech that turned heads. "So maybe I am not late, and you are just early." He sat down, unbothered, like this was all part of the plan. 

"What are you, Spiderman?" She raised an eyebrow, trying to keep her expression annoyed rather than unsettled.

"Where do you think I learned that fact from?" he replied, leaning back with that signature smirk that set her teeth on edge.

And just like that, as Kwon prattled on, she tried to keep her thoughts anchored in the present. Anything to avoid the phantom pain of reaching for someone who was already gone. 

Y/n cleared her throat, shaking off the memories that clung to her like shadows, and tapped the table with her pen. Kwon leaned back, the legs of his chair balancing precariously as he watched her with that insufferable grin. Forcing herself to focus, she slid the printed study schedule across the table toward him. "This is your plan for the next three months," she said, her tone sharp and business-like. "We'll be covering reaction mechanisms first, then kinetics, and then--"

"Blah blah, big words," Kwon interjected, twirling his pencil between his fingers as if he were trying to summon a spell. The girl's y/e/c orbs narrowed. He'd done this all summer, testing her patience, pushing every button she had, just to see if she'd snap. "Kwon, if you don't pass this year, your entire life will be in jeopardy." She said, half out of concern, half as a warning. "Not to mention, you're also wasting a lot of my time... So just uh, get your life back in order, or I will actually strike you repeatedly and violently with a baseball fucking bat." He just chuckled, the sound low and annoyingly musical. "I'd like to see you try, princess," he said, leaning forward. 

The distance between them shrank, and she could smell the faint scent of sweat and something minty — gum, maybe. It made her want to get another whiff because she usually liked smelling nice things, but she held her ground, realizing how creepy certain tendencies of hers could be. So, she rolled her eyes instead and launched into an overview of the first week's assignments, feeling her voice dull under the weight of his glazed-over expression. 

He propped his chin on one hand, eyes drifting to the window behind her, where the sun bled a deep, dying orange into the sky. Every time she paused to make a point, he smirked or raised an eyebrow, tossing out a sarcastic "fascinating" or "riveting" that made her want to fling her pen at his head.

By the time she reached the end of the plan, frustration clawed at her composure. Her knuckles were white as she gripped her notebook. She slammed it shut, the sound jolting the nearby librarian, who shot her a glare. "Are you even listening, Kwon?" she snapped, unable to mask the tremor in her voice. She was tired—tired of trying, tired of caring, tired of being the only one who seemed to give a damn.

Kwon's smirk widened, a glint of mischief flickering in his eyes. He stood up, slinging his bag over one shoulder with infuriating nonchalance. "Let's see... reaction mechanisms first, then kinetics, followed by thermodynamics. Office hours on Fridays, study group on Wednesday, and—what was it? Oh, yeah. Don't be late." He winked, emphasizing her own words, and y/n felt a mix of relief and irritation twist in her gut. He had been paying attention. That only made it worse. "Where are you going? We're not done," she said, voice faltering as she realized she sounded more desperate than she wanted to.

"Practice," he said simply, the word rolling off his tongue like a challenge. Before she could argue, he was already halfway across the library, leaving her staring at the empty chair, fists clenched at her sides. "What practice..." She frowned to herself. The silence left in his wake gnawed at her. It was stupid to feel anything about it. He'd shown up late, mocked her all session, and now left her hanging. Still, the knot of disappointment in her chest tightened. She sat there, unmoving, for a moment longer, until a sharp laugh caught her attention from across the room.

A group of students, half-hidden behind a row of bookshelves, shot her sidelong glances, their whispers slithering through the quiet like venom. She knew them; they'd made it a sport to mock her last year when she stumbled through her first few months of adjusting to life in Seoul. Her Korean had been rough, her manners foreign, and she'd been easy prey. They sneered at her way of talking, her hesitation, her silence. And though her pulse hammered in her ears now, she stayed still, refusing to give them a reaction. Not this time. Her parents' words echoed in her mind—pleas and demands that she stay out of trouble, that she keep her head down. 

They hadn't moved her halfway across the world just to see her fall back into old habits. The memory of Miguel's face, his eyes wide with fear before the fall, kept her rooted. 

Keeping her gaze fixed on the table, she slipped her things into her bag, fingers shaking only slightly. She stood up, avoiding the group's sharp eyes, and slid out the library's back door. The corridor was cool and quiet, and she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Outside, the sun had sunk lower, casting jagged shadows that seemed to mock her. The urge to fight back, to raise her fists and remind everyone that she wasn't weak, flared hot and dangerous beneath her skin. But she swallowed it down, the taste bitter. She'd made a vow to her parents, to herself. No more fighting.

No more breaking.

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