Annyeongz One-shots

78. Wrong ( 2 )

The study session stretched into the late hours, the desk lamp casting a warm glow over Yujin's cluttered room. What started as a forced arrangement evolved into something unexpectedly productive, thanks to Wonyoung's persistent help. Despite the teasing undertones and the lingering echo of her earlier confession, she shifted gears seamlessly, focusing on aiding him with genuine intent. Their courses were different—her literature and philosophy worlds away from his engineering equations—but she approached it with a sharp mind that surprised him.

"Look here," she said, leaning over his shoulder to point at a particularly tricky thermodynamics problem in his notebook. Her proximity was deliberate, her arm brushing his as she explained. "You're overcomplicating the entropy calculation. Break it down like this: start with the basic formula, ΔS = Q/T, but factor in the reversible process. See? If you visualize it as a cycle, it clicks easier."

Yujin tried to maintain his cool facade, nodding nonchalantly. "Yeah, I get it. Not that hard." But internally, he was grateful—and flustered. Her explanations were clear, patient, drawing analogies from her own studies. "Think of it like a narrative arc in a story," she'd say with a wink. "Build-up, climax, resolution. Your heat transfer is the plot twist." He rolled his eyes, but followed her lead, solving the next problem faster than he had all week. She didn't just help with the math; she quizzed him on concepts, forcing him to articulate them aloud, which sharpened his understanding. Hours passed, and by midnight, his notes were organized, a stack of solved problems testament to her guidance.

As the clock ticked past 1 AM, fatigue set in. Wonyoung stretched, her shirt riding up slightly, and Yujin averted his eyes quickly, failing at nonchalance yet again. "You're welcome," she teased softly, closing her book. "See? We make a good team." He mumbled a thanks, the words grudging but sincere, as she gathered her things and left with a lingering smile. Alone in his room, Yujin stared at the ceiling, the night's events replaying—the help, the touches, the unspoken pull. Sleep came fitfully, dreams tangled with her presence.

The next morning dawned bright and unseasonably warm, sunlight filtering through the curtains into the kitchen where the family gathered for breakfast. The tension from the previous night had dissipated somewhat, replaced by a veneer of normalcy. Mr. Ahn sipped his coffee, scrolling through his phone, while Mrs. Kim prepared toast and eggs. Yujin slouched in his chair, nursing a mug of black coffee, his cheek still faintly bruised but healing. Wonyoung sat across from him, fresh-faced and composed, as if the intimate study session—and her bold revelations—hadn't happened.

Mr. Ahn cleared his throat, setting his phone down with a decisive clink. "Listen up, both of you. Your mother and I have some urgent work matters to settle. A business trip—unexpected, but necessary. We'll be gone for about a week, starting tomorrow. Meetings in Busan, then follow-ups in Jeju."

Yujin paused mid-bite, glancing up with mild surprise. Wonyoung's eyes widened slightly, but she nodded politely. "Okay, Dad. We'll hold down the fort here."

Mrs. Kim smiled reassuringly, placing plates in front of them. "We'll check in daily, of course. Groceries are stocked, and there's emergency cash in the drawer. Just... behave, alright?"

Mr. Ahn's gaze shifted to Yujin, hardening into that familiar stern look. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a warning tone, laced with intensity that made the room feel smaller. "Yujin, specifically—I'm talking to you. No more late nights out. Come home early every day. Accompany Wonyoung. Don't leave her alone in this house. She's your responsibility while we're gone. Understand? If I hear otherwise—from neighbors, or anyone—there will be consequences. Serious ones."

The words hung heavy, the underlying threat clear: another outburst like last night, and things would escalate. Yujin's jaw tightened, resentment flickering in his eyes, but he bit back any retort. The memory of the slap, the pin against the wall, was too fresh. Plus, with exams looming, he couldn't afford distractions. "Got it," he said flatly, meeting his father's stare for a brief, defiant moment before looking away. It wasn't agreement so much as compliance—for now.