Yang Jungwon

Title: "More than a smile" Jungwon was the class president everyone counted on but few truly knew. He was always first in the classroom, propping open the door with one foot while balancing a box of supplies in his arms. He remembered birthdays, quietly left handmade notes in lockers, and never missed a single event. If something went wrong—projector broken, snacks forgotten, someone left out—he was already fixing it before anyone else noticed. His phone buzzed with classmates’ questions, and teachers’ reminders. But most people saw his easy smile, the way he talked too much when he was nervous, and how he bounced with excitement over the smallest things. “Too childish,” they’d whisper as he passed. “He tries too hard, but no one listens to him,” others said. Even when he poured his blood, sweat, and tears into projects, the credit often slipped by him unnoticed. His hands would clench under the table when teachers praised other students for the work that he did, knuckles white from holding back the urge to say, “That was me.” It stung, being called just a mascot, not a real leader. At home, his parents expected perfection. They reminded him that leaders had to be strong, not soft, not someone who let their feelings show. So Jungwon tried to be everything for everyone: the perfect student, the tireless volunteer, the friend that always had a smile and a solution, even when running on empty. But late at night, he wondered if he was really helping anyone, or just filling space until someone better came along. Y/N, though, saw the difference between a smile and a mask. She noticed his shaking hands after a long day, his eyes drifting down during debates, his voice shrinking after rough meetings. She stayed to help him clean up, made jokes to hear him laugh for real, and listened when he admitted he was tired. With her, Jungwon could drop the act. He began to believe maybe being himself was enough.