Mirae walked through the school hallways, the end of the day dragging on. Friday. She was a third-year at Seoul National University, juggling Biology and General Medicine. It felt like a lifetime ago she’d been left on someone’s doorstep as a baby, bundled in a blanket and handed over to strangers. Her adoptive parents were always working in America, so she lived with her adoptive brother, Woobin.
She reached her locker, and there they were—six boys waiting.
“Hey guys.”
“Mirae, what took you?” Renjun asked, his tone a mix of teasing and concern.
“My teacher kept us late,” she said, a small smile playing on her lips.
“How was your day, Mi?” Hongjo asked softly, his eyes warm.
“It was okay. Just happy it’s Friday.” She watched them exchange glances, nervous smiles twitching. It was always the same, this anticipation.
“Mirae,” Jisung finally said, his voice hesitant. “We… we can’t hang out today.”
Her shoulders slumped. The smile vanished. “Oh. But we always hang out on Fridays.” The pout she aimed at Jisung was deliberate, designed to make them feel guilty. She knew it was manipulative, but it worked.
Jaemin, her best friend since childhood, cracked first. He grabbed her hand, pulling her close. “I can stay with you. I’m free for a little while.” His eyes met hers, a silent promise of support. “You guys go do whatever you need to do.”
The others exchanged glances, meeting Jaemin’s stern gaze before nodding. They knew what this meant.
“Alright, see you guys later!” They scattered, disappearing into the stream of students.
“So,” Jaemin said, turning back to her. “What do you want to do? I don’t have to leave for a few more hours.”
They walked through the emptying halls, the silence comfortable. They’d known each other since grade school, an instant connection that blossomed into a tight-knit group. “Hmm… Want to go back to my place and watch a movie? Woobin shouldn’t be home until later.”
“Sure.”
They walked to her apartment, chatting about the week. She reached the door, unlocked it, and stepped inside.
“Did Woobin come back late last night again?” Jaemin asked, his eyes scanning the floor. He carefully stepped over shards of glass, remnants of broken bottles.
“Yeah. He was out with his friends, got drunk as usual.” She tossed her backpack onto the floor of her bedroom, ignoring the dull ache in her chest.
Jaemin watched her with concern, quickly scanning her body for bruises. "Did he hurt you again?"
“No. I locked my door when I heard him come home and smash a bottle on the ground.” She lied, her voice barely a whisper.
He let out a sigh of relief, walking over and pulling her into a hug. “I hate having to leave you alone here. Promise me you’ll always lock your door at night so he can’t get to you.”
She nodded into his chest, her eyes stinging. “Let’s not talk about Woobin anymore, please. I’ll be careful. I promise.”
She walked over to her bed, patting the spot next to her. He settled in beside her as ‘Spider-Man’ started playing on her TV.
Jaemin glanced at his phone as dusk settled outside. A string of urgent messages lit up the screen. He sighed, pausing the movie, earning a small whine from Mirae.
“Sorry, Mi, I need to go.”
“It’s fine, I’ll walk you out.”
They walked out of the room, into the main living area. She sighed, looking at the broken glass, the empty bottles, the garbage littering the floor. She knew she’d have to clean it before Woobin got home.
“I’ll see you on Monday, okay? Call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Jaemin. I’ll see you—”
The door slammed open, the silhouette of Woobin filling the doorway. He reeked of alcohol, his eyes landing on Mirae. He didn’t even glance at Jaemin.
“You little ungrateful bitch, didn’t I tell you to clean this up before I got home?” He stalked toward her, anger radiating from every step.
“I-I’m sorry! I-I was just about to—” she stuttered, backing away.
“You can’t do anything right.”
He raised his hand, and Mirae flinched. But the hit never came. She opened her eyes to see Jaemin gripping Woobin’s arm, their faces inches apart.
“Don’t fucking touch her, you bastard.” Jaemin spat, shoving Woobin backward.
“Oh, it’s you.” Woobin sneered, turning to Mirae. “You didn’t clean this house because you were too busy with your little boy toy, huh? God, you’re such a fucking slut.”
“How dare you speak to her that way!” Jaemin roared, his voice trembling with rage.
“And who the fuck are you, pretty boy? What are you gonna do about it?” Woobin stepped closer, invading Jaemin’s space.
Jaemin fought back the urge to punch him. "Jaemin, just go." Mirae pleaded.
“I’m not leaving you with—” she began, but her phone buzzed. She silenced it, her eyes pleading with Jaemin. She saw the worry in his eyes, the weight of the messages flooding his phone.
He took a breath, met her gaze, and nodded. "I'll text you later, okay?"
She nodded, her heart breaking as he turned and walked out of her apartment, locking the door behind him.
The instant the door clicked shut, Woobin turned to Mirae. He shoved her against the wall, his palm slamming into her cheek. The force sent her reeling.
“I’m going out again, and when I get home, this apartment better be spotless and that fridge better be stocked, or else you’ll get a lot more than just a slap.”
He slammed the door, leaving her to crumble to the ground, tears streaming down her face. She began carefully cleaning up the shattered glass, her hands bleeding from the shards.
She finally finished, her hands cut and raw. She walked over to the cabinet, reaching for a bandage, but it was empty.
Well, he wanted me to stock the fridge anyway, so I might as well go out and buy some bandaids too.
She sighed, dabbing at the blood on her hands, grabbing her keys.
Soon, she reached the convenience store, moving quickly through the aisles. The store was empty except for the cashier. She headed for the first aid aisle, looking for bandages, when she heard the front door open. Heavy footsteps disturbed the silence, but she dismissed it until a loud voice boomed from the front of the store.
“Put your fucking hands up if you don’t want us to shoot you right here.”