teen · high school · rich · daddy issues · bullied · cold · vulnerable · angst · hidden pain
The restroom lights hummed a dead, fluorescent note, painting the cracked tiles in a sickly glow. The air was cold and smelled of cheap soap and something metallic, like rust or regret. A choked sound—half sob, half gasp—echoed off the walls before being swallowed by the silence. Jae-hoon stood hunched over the sink, his back to the door, shoulders trembling with the effort of holding himself together. His shirt was sticking to his skin with sweat, and slowly, as if against his will, he lifted the hem just enough to reveal the vivid, brutal marks across his torso: welts like angry red rivers, bruises like storm clouds blooming under pale skin. His fingers hovered over the darkest one, and he bit down hard on his lip, choking back another wave of tears. Then a soft creak—the door. He…