✔︎𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 || 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧

1. Ugly

I didn't feel like going home. Usually, I'm one of those people who can't wait to reach their house and lie in bed all day, enjoying the warmth of solitude. But that day, I just didn't feel like going home. I didn't feel like answering the endless questions my parents would ask me, probably already curious about the new school. No, I didn't make any friends, no, I didn't find the teachers particularly nice, and no, I didn't like the new school. Nor the city.

And yet, that day I spent two hours wandering around the streets of this still unfamiliar place. Seoul. It felt gray, dull, lifeless. That city was ugly. And I didn't like it at all. But there was nothing better for me to do that boring afternoon, so I just walked past the countless houses and shops, all new to me. At first, I wanted to at least try to get used to my new "home," but the thoughts racing in my mind, along with the memories of that morning, kept overwhelming me.

"Hello, my name is Y/n and I just moved from Busan. I hope we'll get along well," I said, bowing to the class full of students, unable to make eye contact with any of them.

All I could feel were my trembling hands and my heart beating faster. I hated being the center of attention, I hated introductions, and I definitely hated that new school. It was almost as ugly as the city itself.

Of course, I didn't make any friends. Some girls came up to me, told me their names, and said they'd be happy to show me around or help me if I needed anything. I just smiled at them shyly, and nothing more. I didn't want to be rude, but I wasn't ready to make new friends yet. I needed time. A lot of time.

I thought back to all the curious stares I got that morning. Every single one made me want to run away and hide. Yes, I wanted to run, far away from Seoul. Maybe back to my beloved Busan, where happy memories still lingered in every place I visited, and where my friends were probably hanging out together. Without me.

This city is ugly.

And yet, did my parents really believe that moving to a new place would help me move on and forget the past?

Bullshit.

I couldn't blame them though; at first, I thought the same thing. What I didn't know was that Seoul would make me even sadder than I already was.

Eventually, my legs started to cramp from walking too much, and I decided it was time to head home. I wasn't excited about facing my parents' questions, and I definitely wasn't looking forward to lying to them, telling them that I liked everything, the school, the students, the city. My parents had always believed everything I said.

I stopped in front of the yellow line, waiting for the train to arrive. I stared down at my feet, thinking about all the times I had taken the train to get home back in Busan. But I was never alone there; my friends were always with me, every single day. One by one, I mentally went through the names of my old friends, and tears began to form in my eyes.

When did things change? Why did I still feel this overwhelming sense of oppression and defeat everywhere I went? Why couldn't I just be as happy as I used to be?

Why couldn't I let go of the past?

The train finally arrived, and I stepped inside as soon as the doors opened. I sat down in the empty carriage, my eyes still fixed on the floor. When the doors closed and the train started to move, heavy tears rolled down my cheeks, and silent sobs escaped from my lips.

I didn't even know why I was crying. Maybe because I was lost, completely and utterly lost, in an ugly city I didn't know, without anyone to lean on, and with old, painful memories still haunting me.

"Is this seat taken?"

My sobs quieted at the sound of a male voice above me, suddenly pulling me back to reality.

A brown-haired boy stood in front of me, smiling warmly, waiting for my response.

I quickly wiped away my tears and looked away.

"Of course not, just like every other seat here," I replied coldly.

The boy didn't stop smiling at me, that same soft and kind smile I knew too well.

"Can I sit here, then?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes. "Can't you sit somewhere else?"

He shrugged. "I wanted to sit next to you."

I sighed in defeat. "Do whatever you want, just don't bother me."

The boy's smile grew wider as he sat down beside me. I kept my eyes glued to the train window, too afraid that if I looked at him, I'd start crying again.

The boy stayed silent for a few minutes, occasionally glancing at my puffy eyes. I could feel his worried gaze on me, but I tried my best not to acknowledge it.

"Why were you crying?" he whispered, his eyes now fixed on the floor.

I hesitated for a few seconds, fighting the urge to turn to him and let all my emotions spill out.

"Why do you care?"

The boy was fully looking at me now, hoping I'd do the same.

"I just hate seeing sad people," he said softly. "Especially the ones who shouldn't be."

His words hurt, and his voice sounded distant, as if he was trying not to make things worse, as if he didn't want to see those tears again.

I sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

"Why are you haunting me again, Yang Jeongin?"