Ethan Park stepped off the bus, gripping the strap of his duffel bag a little too tightly. His stomach twisted with nerves, but his face, as always, remained unreadable—half-lidded eyes, an expression that was neither hostile nor friendly, and a posture that, despite his nervousness, was straight and composed. His physique was lean but slightly athletic, not from working out, but simply because of genetics. He had always been like this—naturally toned without trying, something that made people assume he was stronger than he actually was.
Inside, though? Inside, his thoughts were racing.
Holy crap, I'm really here. What if I get lost? What if I mess up? What if I say something weird? No, no, just act normal. But what's normal? Oh god, what if someone tries to talk to me—
A gust of cold night air smacked him in the face, interrupting his spiral. He took a shaky breath and forced himself to move, legs stiff as he stepped onto the sidewalk.
The city around him was massive—blinding neon signs, towering buildings, streets crowded even at this hour. The noise was overwhelming. He felt like an ant in a world that was too fast, too loud, too much. He adjusted his grip on his bag, his fingers flexing slightly to keep himself from looking too tense.
Okay, focus. Just get to the apartment. One step at a time.
With his heart pounding against his ribs, he followed the directions his dad had given him. His fingers twitched in his pockets, resisting the urge to check his phone every three seconds.
His dad had sacrificed a lot to send him here, choosing to stay behind in their old city to work while Ethan transferred to Hanwol High. "Better opportunities," his dad had said, though Ethan knew it was also about giving him a fresh start.
Not that a fresh start would help if he collapsed from anxiety before even getting home.
By the time he reached his new place—a rooftop apartment—the tension in his shoulders had become unbearable. The narrow staircase creaked under his weight as he climbed up, stomach tightening. His mind imagined all kinds of worst-case scenarios. What if someone was already living there? What if the landlord scammed them? What if—
The door unlocked easily. No angry stranger waiting inside. No scam. Just a tiny, slightly musty room with a single bed, a desk, and a barely functional light.
"...Okay," he breathed, feeling some of the tension drain from his body.
He dropped his bag on the bed and stood there, staring at the peeling wallpaper. The city outside buzzed with life, but up here, he was alone. He exhaled sharply, his fingers twitching again. He needed something to do, something to distract him.
His stomach growled. Right. Food.
After a deep breath, he grabbed his phone and headed back out.
The streets felt different now that he was walking with purpose. Not better—just different. Every few steps, his head twitched slightly as he glanced over his shoulder. Just in case.
At the convenience store, he grabbed a cup of instant ramen and a drink, his hands moving fast, like he was on autopilot. Standing outside as he waited for the noodles to cook, he tapped his foot rapidly against the pavement. His gaze flickered across the street.
Two groups of people caught his attention.
One group—students in crisp uniforms, laughing loudly as they left a restaurant. They looked effortless, like they belonged. Ethan had no idea how to be like them.
The other group—guys in hoodies and ripped jeans, leaning against their parked bikes. One had bleached hair, another a scar across his cheek. They didn't look much older than him, but they carried themselves like they owned the streets. One of them locked eyes with Ethan for a second before scoffing and looking away.
Ethan swallowed hard and turned back to his ramen, shoving noodles into his mouth as if eating faster would make him invisible. His brain screamed at him to walk away before he somehow got involved in something, but his body stayed put, frozen between the two worlds he didn't fit into.
After finishing his food, he decided to take the long way home. Maybe walking more would help ease the tension in his chest.
The city's streets were a mix of bright and dark—some areas were bustling with energy, while others felt eerily empty. He walked past rows of shops still open late, their lights glowing against the cold night air. A group of young men sat outside a small convenience store, laughing loudly. Ethan's gaze flickered toward them for a second before he quickly looked away, not wanting to accidentally draw attention.
Then, as he turned a corner, he heard it.
A sharp voice. The sound of a body hitting a wall. A low groan.
His stomach dropped.
Just keep walking. Don't look. Don't get involved.
But his eyes betrayed him, flicking toward the alley. Two figures. One shoving the other against the wall. The guy being hit struggled to stand straight.
Oh no. Oh no.
Ethan's hands went clammy. He wasn't built for situations like this. He didn't fight. He didn't even talk back to his teachers. He should run, pretend he didn't see anything.
The taller guy suddenly turned and spotted him.
"The hell you lookin' at?"
Ethan's entire body locked up. His mind went blank, pure static.
Oh crap. Oh crap oh crap oh crap.
His face, however? Completely neutral. Just tired-looking.
The guy narrowed his eyes like he was waiting for an answer, but Ethan's throat refused to work. Then, after a tense pause, the guy scoffed and turned back to his victim.
Ethan took that as his cue to move. He walked faster, resisting the urge to break into a full sprint. His heart hammered against his ribs. His stomach was in knots. He felt like he was going to throw up.
By the time he reached his apartment, he was shaking. He locked the door behind him and slumped onto the bed, gripping his knees.
I hate this.
The worst part? No one else would ever guess he felt this way. His face made sure of that. People always assumed he was calm. Relaxed. Some even thought he was confident.
If only they knew.
His phone buzzed. A notification from YouTube. He mindlessly scrolled past videos until his eyes landed on one titled: "Self-Defense Basics: How to Survive a Fight."
His finger hovered over it.
…Not like he'd ever need that, right?
With a shaky breath, he turned off his phone and let the sounds of the city lull him into an uneasy sleep.