Annyeongz One-shots

21. Unheard Truths

The school hallway was almost empty that afternoon, the faint echo of distant footsteps the only sound breaking the silence. Ryujin leaned against the cold tiled wall outside the boys’ restroom, a cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers. He was supposed to be in class, but skipping was his usual escape — not because he wanted trouble, but because he needed space from the pressure. His twin brother Yujin, the model student, would never understand. Yujin’s world was neat, disciplined — not like his own, wild but harmless.

Ryujin flicked the cigarette to the floor, crushing it under his sneaker just as a faint sound reached his ears — a voice, muffled but desperate.

“Help... please...”

The voice was soft but urgent. It came from inside the restroom.

Ryujin’s jaw clenched, the usual laziness in his eyes replaced by a sharp alertness. He pushed open the door without hesitation.

Inside, the fluorescent lights flickered overhead. In the farthest stall, a girl was huddled, trembling. Her eyes were wide, searching for safety.

Two tall senior boys stood near her, blocking her way. One had his arms crossed, a cruel smirk playing on his lips.

“Tell anyone, and you and your sister will regret it,” the bigger one sneered, his voice low but full of menace.

The girl’s lips quivered, tears streaming down her cheeks, but no sound escaped. Her sobs were silent, as if she had forgotten how to cry out loud.

Ryujin’s blood ran cold. The girl’s silent suffering hit a nerve deep inside him. Without a second thought, he stepped forward.

“You’re done here,” Ryujin’s voice was calm but deadly, like a storm about to break.

The seniors turned, sizing him up. A flicker of amusement crossed their faces, but Ryujin’s steely gaze made them hesitate.

He moved faster than they expected. Fists flew, but Ryujin was precise — a quick jab, a shove, then a powerful hit that sent the bigger one stumbling back. The fight was over almost before it started.

Breathing hard, Ryujin wiped his knuckles and turned to the girl.

“Are you okay? What’s your name?” he asked gently, lowering his voice.

The girl blinked, hesitating before raising her hand to form a slow sign — L-I-Z.

Ryujin froze. Liz. He knew that name.

Wonyoung Jang’s little sister. The vice president senior, Wonyoung — a girl known for her cold confidence and fierce loyalty — was Liz’s older sister.

Liz’s face twisted with pain, and she tried to stand but faltered, her leg clearly injured.

Ryujin’s protective instinct kicked in. “I’ll carry you,” he said softly.

Liz hesitated, her eyes searching his face. Then, with a small nod, she allowed him to lift her gently.

As he carried her out of the restroom, Ryujin signed quietly to her, “You’re safe now. We understand you.”

His hands moved fluidly in sign language, the language their parents had taught them since birth.

Liz’s eyes widened in shock and relief — no one else had ever used sign language with her so naturally. Her lips curved into a faint, grateful smile.

Ryujin glanced back at the two seniors, who were nursing their bruised pride outside the restroom. They didn’t say a word now, their earlier threats forgotten in the face of Ryujin’s silent fury.