Annyeongz One-shots

22. Unheard Truths ( 2 )

The buzz of the CU Mart’s fluorescent lights filled the air with a constant hum, broken only by the quiet blip of barcodes being scanned and the low murmur of customers. It was almost 8 PM, and the store had quieted from the earlier rush. Yujin stood behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, knuckles still sore and raw from earlier that day. He hadn’t wrapped them—couldn’t afford the bandages—and every movement stung. But he kept going. He had to.

The bell above the glass door jingled softly. Yujin glanced up out of habit, expression unreadable—until his eyes landed on her.

Wonyoung stepped inside with her little sister Liz trailing quietly behind. The sight of them made something in his chest constrict. Wonyoung’s long hair was tied loosely, her uniform slightly wrinkled from the long day, and Liz clung to her sleeve, gaze low, small fingers grasping the fabric tightly.

They moved through the aisles silently. Yujin didn’t watch them. He kept scanning items for another customer, eyes trained on the flickering screen. But he felt them—felt her—approach the counter a few minutes later. Wonyoung placed a few items down: a carton of strawberry milk, a packet of seaweed snacks, two sandwiches, and some band-aids. The irony didn’t go unnoticed.

Yujin reached out, picking up each item methodically, scanning them with the same detached rhythm.
Blip. Blip. Blip.
He didn’t say anything until the last item was bagged.

“That’ll be 8,900 won,” he said in a flat, professional tone.

Wonyoung’s brows furrowed slightly when she noticed the split skin on his knuckles, the discoloration around them already bruising. She hesitated before taking out her wallet, eyes never leaving his hands.

“Are you…” Her voice was soft but clear. “Are you okay?”

Yujin didn’t look up. He didn’t respond. He simply finished packing their items into the plastic bag, careful not to press down on his injuries. Once everything was neatly arranged, he pushed the bag across the counter toward her with a single, smooth motion. Then, without another word or glance, he stepped out from behind the counter and walked briskly toward the cleaning supplies in the back aisle. He grabbed a mop and began working like they weren’t there.

Wonyoung blinked, lips parting slightly at the coldness of it all.

Before she could reach for the bag, Liz gently tugged at her sleeve. The younger girl leaned closer and subtly signed with her hands.

“I’m scared.”

Wonyoung’s eyes widened a little, heart sinking. Her gaze flicked to Yujin—his broad back turned to them, mop in hand, moving with quiet urgency down the aisle. He didn’t once glance back.

He looked cold.

Detached.

But Wonyoung had seen it earlier. The fury in his fists. The blood on his hands. The look in his eyes when he stood in front of everyone and offered to get expelled instead of his brother.

There was something burning underneath his silence now. She couldn’t explain it, but it unsettled her.

Still, she picked up the bag and gently wrapped an arm around Liz, squeezing her shoulder.

“Come on,” she murmured, and they walked out.

The bell jingled softly again as the door closed behind them.

Inside, Yujin kept his head down. Kept mopping. Kept breathing.

Because stopping meant thinking.

And thinking hurt more than his bruised fists ever could.