Annyeongz One-shots

110. Heal

Yujin walked into the studio, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, eyes scanning the room with the practiced precision of someone who always measured every detail. The soft hum of equipment, the faint smell of chemicals from developing prints, the shuffle of feet on polished floors—it all barely registered. He was here to work, and work only. That was the rule he lived by, the one he’d held onto since everything else had fallen apart.

His past relationship still lingered like a shadow he couldn’t shake. He had loved once—too much, too fast—and had been burned. The woman he trusted, the one he’d thought he could give everything to, had twisted love into manipulation, affection into control, and kindness into cruel games. He still remembered the way she’d mocked him when he tried to set boundaries, the way she’d screamed at him for the smallest misstep, the cold satisfaction in her eyes when he broke under the pressure. It had nearly destroyed him, had left him numb and wary of anyone who tried to get close. He had learned one thing painfully: never let anyone in again.

And yet, today was different. The moment he stepped through the studio doors, he noticed her. Wonyoung. She wasn’t someone he expected—her presence was vivid, like sunlight cutting through the grey fog he had built around himself. She was kneeling by the floor, carefully adjusting the lighting on a reflective board, hair falling over her face, eyes focused, lips pressed in concentration. There was something unassuming yet magnetic about her—like she belonged here in a way no one else did.

Yujin cleared his throat softly, trying not to startle her, but it was no use. She looked up, eyes wide, and froze for a moment as if seeing him for the first time. Her gaze was direct, unflinching, and for a second, it caught him off guard. Normally, people looked at him with hesitation, fear, or awe—but not her.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, standing quickly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t see anyone come in.” Her voice was warm but cautious, careful, like she sensed he might snap if disturbed.

Yujin’s lips twitched in something close to a smirk, though he fought to keep it from becoming too soft. “You didn’t disturb me. Just… aware of your surroundings next time.” His voice was low, steady, the kind that could command a room without raising its volume. There was an edge to it, a silent warning buried beneath the calm.

She nodded quickly, a faint flush creeping across her cheeks. “Right… I’ll be careful.” She moved to straighten some props on a nearby table, but her eyes kept flicking toward him. There was curiosity there, not judgment, not fear—something that intrigued him more than he cared to admit.

Yujin felt the familiar tightening in his chest—the instinct to withdraw, to retreat into the fortress he had built around his heart. He hated that it was happening. He hated that someone so alive, so unguarded, was making him feel something he had sworn off. But even as he reminded himself of the pain he had endured, even as memories of manipulation and betrayal surged like a cold wave, he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

“You’re new,” he said finally, his tone softer than he intended. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

Wonyoung’s hands paused mid-motion, but she didn’t step back. Instead, she offered him a small, hesitant smile. “I just started today. I’m Wonyoung… I work on styling and props.”

“Yujin,” he replied, his usual reserve in place, though his eyes lingered on her a second longer than necessary. “Photographer. I run this session.” There was no warmth, but there was no coldness either—just a simple, factual introduction.

She tilted her head slightly, studying him with that same steady gaze, and for a heartbeat, it felt like he was being measured, tested, and somehow… accepted. “I’ll make sure not to get in your way,” she said softly, though her words carried no fear. Only determination.