four
Yujin didn’t care how late it was.
She didn’t care about the darkness of the night or the quiet of the campus streets. All that mattered was that she had to make things right. She couldn’t go on like this, knowing she had messed up, knowing she had hurt Wonyoung. And she couldn’t stand the thought of losing her without trying to fix it.
Yujin’s steps quickened as she moved through the familiar campus, her eyes scanning the paths she had walked countless times with Wonyoung. Finally, she saw her. Wonyoung sat alone on the old bench where they used to hang out, her posture tense, shoulders slightly hunched, as if she was trying to make herself invisible. Yujin’s heart twisted at the sight, but she couldn’t look away.
She stepped closer, but as soon as Wonyoung noticed her, she stood up abruptly. Her movements were hurried, a clear attempt to leave. The familiar, uncomfortable ache shot through Yujin’s chest.
"Wonyoung, wait!" Her voice cracked, the pain and regret clear in every word.
Wonyoung paused, her back still turned, shoulders stiff. Her body language screamed avoidance. But Yujin’s voice—her voice full of hurt, full of apology—was enough to make Wonyoung stop. She hesitated for a moment before slowly turning around.
Their eyes met, and for a split second, it felt like time stopped. But Yujin could see it—the way Wonyoung’s eyes were guarded, the way her lips quivered just slightly. The hurt was so evident in her gaze, it felt like a knife to Yujin’s chest.
"I’m so sorry," Yujin whispered, stepping forward but not daring to get too close. She didn't want to push Wonyoung away any further. "I never meant to hurt you. I was so stupid, so caught up in everything else, and I completely forgot about you. But I love you, Wonyoung. I love you so much, and I never, ever wanted to make you feel this way. I—"
Wonyoung’s gaze shifted downward, her hands clasping tightly in front of her. She was silent, but Yujin could see the tremble in her fingers. She could see how deeply Wonyoung had been affected. It felt like every word Yujin spoke was just another weight she was adding to the distance between them, and yet, she couldn’t stop herself.
"I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I’m asking for it anyway. I can’t lose you. I’ll do anything, Wonyoung. Anything," Yujin continued, her voice shaky, but she couldn’t hold back anymore. Not when Wonyoung looked at her like this, not when she felt the emptiness of what she had lost.
Wonyoung’s gaze flickered up, but she didn’t say anything for a long moment. Her eyes were filled with doubt, and a small part of Yujin feared she would walk away again, just like the last time.
Finally, Wonyoung spoke, her voice quieter than Yujin had ever heard it. "What if you go back to how you were before?" Her words were hesitant, like she was bracing herself for an answer that might break her all over again.
Yujin swallowed hard, feeling like her heart had dropped to her stomach. That question—it was the one thing she had feared. But she didn’t hesitate. She couldn’t. This was the moment where everything could either fall apart or be fixed.
"I won’t," Yujin said softly, but with such conviction it almost startled her. "I won’t. Because losing you made me realize I never want to take you for granted again. Not ever. I know I messed up, and I know I’ve hurt you. But I swear to you, I’ll be better. I’ll be here for you. I’ll show you that you matter. Because you do. You matter more than anything else."
Wonyoung’s expression softened slightly, but the wariness was still there. She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t be sure. Yujin knew that. But for the first time in what felt like forever, there was a glimmer of hope in Wonyoung’s eyes, and that was enough to keep Yujin standing there, waiting for her to decide what came next.
It wasn’t over. Not yet. And as long as Wonyoung was still willing to listen, Yujin would fight for her—for them.
Yujin didn’t push Wonyoung for an answer that night. She could see the hesitation in Wonyoung’s eyes, the way her fingers clenched at the hem of her sleeves as if bracing herself for disappointment.
So instead of forcing Wonyoung to listen to empty words, Yujin decided to show her.
She started with the little things.
The next morning, she sent Wonyoung a simple text:
yudaeng 💙
morning wonnie, i hope you have a great day today <3
No expectations, no pressure—just a small gesture to remind Wonyoung that she was thinking of her. She didn’t expect a reply, and she didn’t get one. But she kept going.
Yujin still walked the usual routes on campus, the ones she used to take with Wonyoung. And if she happened to see her from afar, she didn’t call out to her or try to force a conversation. Instead, she simply let Wonyoung see her—alone, quieter than usual, a stark contrast to how she always used to be surrounded by friends, too distracted to notice Wonyoung waiting for her.
She started showing up to the places she had been too busy for before. The library where Wonyoung used to study for hours, the campus café where Wonyoung would get her favorite drink after a long day. Yujin didn’t approach her, didn’t intrude. She just made space for Wonyoung to notice —to see that she was trying.
When Wonyoung had a big presentation coming up, Yujin left a small energy drink and a note on her desk in the lecture hall before she arrived.
You’ll do great. I believe in you – yudaeng <3
Still, no response. But Yujin didn’t stop.
She didn’t go out late with her friends anymore, didn’t ignore the messages that actually mattered. When she passed by Wonyoung’s friend, she asked if Wonyoung was doing okay—not to pry, just to care. And when Wonyoung accidentally left her scarf in the library one evening, Yujin was the one who quietly returned it, draping it over the back of Wonyoung’s chair in the common area without saying a word.
It was slow. It was careful. And it was genuine.
Days passed, then a week. Yujin didn’t push. She just kept showing up in the ways she should have before.
Then one evening, as she sat on the bench they used to share, scrolling absentmindedly through her phone, a message popped up.
From Wonyoung.
I saw the scarf. Thank you.
It was short. Simple. But Yujin exhaled like she had been holding her breath for days.
Maybe—just maybe—she was finally reaching her.
Yujin took the message as a small crack in the wall between them, but she didn’t push further. She knew she didn’t deserve an instant fix, that Wonyoung wouldn’t just fall back into her arms because of a few good gestures. But she kept trying.
The next time they passed by each other on campus, Yujin didn’t say anything. She only offered a small nod, a hesitant but warm acknowledgment, and Wonyoung—after a moment—nodded back. It wasn’t much, but Yujin held onto it.
She found herself walking past Wonyoung’s usual spots more often, not to interfere, but just to be there. One evening, when it was raining, she spotted Wonyoung outside the library, stuck without an umbrella. Yujin could have walked away, let someone else help her. But instead, she quietly approached, holding her umbrella out.
"Take it," she said softly.
Wonyoung hesitated, looking at her with uncertainty, but eventually took the umbrella without a word. She didn’t say thank you, didn’t offer a smile, but Yujin didn’t need one. The fact that Wonyoung accepted it at all was enough.
Later that night, Yujin received another text. Her heart clenched. Wonyoung still cared, even if she was hesitant to show it.
wonnie 🐰
did you get home safely without an umbrella?
yudaeng 💙
mhm, dw about me
yudaeng 💙
as long as you’re safe
No response. But Yujin knew she had been heard.
—
She started paying attention to things she had ignored before.
One day, she overheard Wonyoung’s friend mentioning how stressed she was over an upcoming exam. Yujin remembered how Wonyoung used to study for hours, the way she’d chew on her pen cap when she was deep in focus. That night, Yujin left a small pack of Wonyoung’s favorite snacks on her usual study table in the library with a simple note:
For when you forget to take a break - yudaeng <3
She didn’t expect a thank you. And she didn’t get one.
But the next day, when she passed by Wonyoung’s table again, she noticed that the snacks were gone. The note, too.
That was enough.
—
Days passed like that—small gestures, quiet acknowledgments. Yujin didn’t want to overwhelm Wonyoung, didn’t want to make her feel pressured into anything. She just wanted to show her that she was still there.
One night, Yujin spotted Wonyoung sitting in the library, looking exhausted, her head resting on her arms. Yujin hesitated. Maybe she should walk away, let Wonyoung have her space. But instead, she quietly approached and placed a small pack of snacks beside her.
Wonyoung lifted her head slightly, eyes flickering toward the snacks before looking up at Yujin.
“You should eat something,” Yujin said softly.
Wonyoung’s fingers paused against the edge of her book. For a second, she didn’t react, didn’t even lift her head. Yujin wondered if she was going to ignore her entirely, if she had finally pushed things too far.
But then, Wonyoung let out a small sigh and glanced up. Her eyes met Yujin’s—tired, wary, but not as cold as before.
She looked down at the snack Yujin had placed beside her. Her fingers hesitated before reaching out, picking it up without a word.
Yujin felt her chest tighten. It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t even acknowledgment. But it was something.
She didn’t linger. She knew better than to push too hard. So, she simply nodded and turned to leave.
She had only taken a few steps when she heard Wonyoung’s voice, quiet but clear.
“…Thanks.”
Yujin’s imaginary puppy ears perked up.
It wasn’t much. Just a single word, barely above a whisper. But coming from Wonyoung, after everything, it was enough to make Yujin’s heart race.
She didn’t turn back. She didn’t want to ruin it.
Instead, she smiled softly to herself, shoving her hands into her pockets as she walked away.
One step at a time.