Affection's Facade

I confess

Tae-hyung's past pov

There was something about this random soul I had met. The way being near her felt was as if we'd spent lifetimes together in the past. Her presence made me want to always ensure she was alright. She prompted me to act in ways that surprised me, taking me aback without a second thought.

"Tae-hyung, they were joking," Yu-mi insisted, catching up to me and grabbing my arm.

Yu-mi then turned her attention to Elera. "You know we were just joking, right?" But before Elera could even open her mouth to respond, I had already moved past Yu-mi, taking Elera's arm and leading her away.

"Come with me," I said softly, almost as if it was a plea. I looked into her eyes and saw something flicker there.

"Is everything okay?" Elera finally spoke, her voice sounded like there was curiosity, but also a measure of concern.

I paused, looking deep into her eyes before finally breaking the silence. "It will be. Just... come with me."

In the calm of the night, I grasped Elera's hand—our fingers met one another—and led her away from the stifled air and prying eyes. The world had seemingly contracted into a microcosm of its own chaos, but in that instant, it was just us. I liked that, when it was just us. I hated it when it was because others made her feel uncomfortable.

We stepped into the cool embrace of the night, and my eyes instinctively darted to her wrist—the same wrist that had been held captive moments ago. "Are you hurt?" My words floated in the air, punctuated only by the distant sound of laughter escaping from the party we'd left behind.

She shook her head gently, but her silence spoke volumes.

The drive back to my apartment was veiled in an uncharacteristic quiet. The slow music hummed in the background as if hesitant to disturb our contemplative silence. She looked outside with the windows up. " Should I put it down?" I asked her. She shook her head claiming she was comfortable as it was.

Once inside the apartment, the weight of the night seemed to hover around us, a silent third presence in the room. I faced her again, this time drawing closer, examining her wrists, almost expecting to find imprints.

"You're sure you're not hurt?" I ventured again, my voice teetering between a question and a plea.

She shook her head, but her eyes—those intricate windows into her inner realms—told a different story, one layered with resilience and unspoken hurt. Over the years, I've learned that Elera has a kind of stubborn strength that's both admirable and heartbreaking.

I've seen her smile in the face of people who've wronged her, only to seek solace in solitude where her unshed tears could flow freely. I remember the day my father raised his voice at her; something in the air had shifted. I had assumed things had improved when my mother intervened, but weeks later, one of the house keepers approached me cautiously, inquiring if Elera had felt better. I was puzzled until she revealed that she had seen Elera crying alone in the bathroom that day. It was then I realized that Elera was fighting battles I could barely understand.

The most vivid memory that stands out was during my senior year, her sophomore. Elera had been honored as the school's top student. As she ascended the stage, whispers snaked through the audience—snide remarks questioning her worth, insinuating she had nothing else to offer but her intellect. She stood there, unflinching, her smile radiant and her speech poised. But I noticed she wasn't there for lunch.

It wasn't until I saw So-Yeon toss a tray of food to the floor, standing in heated confrontation with one of the girls, that I realized something had gone terribly awry. I found Elera locked in a bathroom, hiding from her tormentors. Yet when she saw me, she wore that brave mask once more, smiling as though the weight of the world hadn't just been thrust upon her shoulders.