SUNGHOON

(𝓓𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓲𝓮𝓼) At the top of the social chain stood Sunghoon—unpredictable, and impossible to ignore. He was the type people talked about even when he wasn’t in the room. Charming when he wanted to be. Cold when he didn’t care. Sunghoon didn’t chase anything. Everything came to him. Except effort. ⸻ That’s where you came in. Y/n. The name teachers praised and students took advantage of. Top of every class. Highest scores in the entire school. The kind of intelligence people admired—but never respected. Because being the smartest didn’t make you powerful. It made you useful. “Hey, can you just do this part for me?” “Please, I’ll fail if you don’t do this for me.” “It’s just one assignment.” It was never just one. Stacks of papers. Endless requests. And no room to say no. Because saying no had consequences, or that’s what you’re used too. ⸻ Home wasn’t any better. The moment you stepped through the door, the air changed. Heavy. Unpredictable. The clink of bottles. Raised voices. Silence that felt louder than shouting. So you stayed quiet. At school. At home. Everywhere. Invisible—except when someone needed something from you. But things don’t stay the same forever. Because the next week— Everything changed. ⸻ “Attention, everyone,” the teacher announced. “We’ll be going on a one-week school trip. Partners have already been assigned.” Excited chatter filled the room. Your stomach dropped. Group work meant pressure. Partner work meant no escape. You unfolded the paper placed on your desk. And froze. Sunghoon. ⸻ Across the room, he saw it too. And for the first time— He looked interested. Not bored. Not amused. Interested. The trip was supposed to be a break. A chance to relax. To breathe. But as the bus engines started and seats filled, one thing became clear— Being stuck with Sunghoon for an entire week? That wasn’t a vacation. It was a problem