17 DAYS TO GO | KWON SOONYOUNG

42

Kang Hana

The dressing room was alive with laughter, cheers, and the lingering adrenaline from the performance. The members of SEVENTEEN were sprawled across the couches and chairs, still buzzing from the energy of the crowd.

“That was insane!” Seokmin grinned, throwing an arm around Jeonghan. “I swear, the audience was about to break the walls with their screams!”

“I nearly tripped over my own feet at one point,” Mingyu admitted sheepishly, shoving a water bottle against his face. “But no one noticed, right?”

Joshua laughed, ruffling his hair. “You’re lucky the lights were too bright for anyone to see properly.”

Meanwhile, I sat cross-legged on the floor, watching them with a small smile. It was moments like this—where they were just themselves, basking in the glow of their hard work—that I wanted to protect.

I turned to look at Soonyoung.

He was laughing along with them, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I saw the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tapped restlessly against his knee.

He was still thinking about them.

I was about to say something when his phone buzzed.

I watched as he pulled it out, his face immediately falling as he read the message.

His entire body tensed.

What now?

“Soonyoung-ah?” I called softly.

He barely heard me.

Jun noticed, peering over his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Soonyoung quickly shoved his phone back into his pocket, shaking his head. “It’s nothing.”

I wasn’t convinced.

Then, without another word, he pushed himself off the couch and headed for the door.

I jumped up. “Where are you going?”

He didn’t stop.

“Soonyoung!”

Finally, he sighed and turned around, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just my parents. They’re waiting for me outside.”

My stomach twisted.

No. No, no, no.

The cold night air bit at my skin as I rushed out of the school, my heart hammering against my ribs. The streets were quiet except for the distant hum of passing cars, the glow of streetlights casting long, eerie shadows on the pavement.

Soonyoung was a few steps ahead, walking quickly with his hands stuffed into his pockets, his posture tense. He wasn’t running, but his pace was just fast enough that I had to push myself to catch up.

“Soonyoung!” I called out, breathless.

He didn’t stop.

I clenched my fists and tried again. “Soonyoung, stop walking!”

Still nothing.

Anger flared inside me. I lunged forward and grabbed his wrist, forcing him to turn around. His face was unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes burned with something dangerous. Something raw.

“Hana,” he muttered, shaking me off. “Go back inside.”

“No.” I stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “You’re not walking away from me like this.”