Nightfall crept over the city like a slow exhale, settling into the cracks between buildings and quieting the distant hum of traffic. By the time Ha Jun reached the back entrance of the convenience store, the sun had already vanished behind the skyline, leaving a faint ribbon of orange melting into the horizon.
He stood there for a moment, staring at the glowing sign above the sliding doors.
The familiar fluorescent lights flickered faintly through the glass.
Work.
Another night pretending.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time. Eight minutes early. He could have used those eight minutes to rest, to breathe, to let his mind settle. Instead, he just stood there, feeling the cool air against his face.
His heart felt heavy, like something inside him was slipping downward.
A passing car splashed through a shallow puddle on the roadside. The water hit the curb, and the droplets caught the streetlight like tiny shards of silver. Ha Jun watched the light scatter, mesmerized.
Everything seemed to scatter in his life lately.
Thoughts.
Sleep.
Hope.
Pieces of himself.
After a moment, he inhaled and pushed the sliding door open.
The familiar scent of instant noodles and cheap air freshener greeted him. The bright store lighting felt too harsh against his tired eyes. Rows of snacks stood neatly arranged, labels facing forward. Refrigerators hummed quietly along the wall. A lone customer browsed through the drinks section, earphones plugged in.
"Good evening, Ha Jun."
His coworker, Jin Soo, glanced up from the register. He was older, maybe late twenties, with kind eyes and a calm presence. Ha Jun liked him. Jin Soo never asked too many questions.
"Evening," Ha Jun replied with his perfected smile.
"You don't look so good," Jin Soo said bluntly.
Ha Jun laughed lightly. "Long day."
"Every day is a long day to you."
"Maybe," Ha Jun answered, brushing off the concern, "but I can handle it."
Jin Soo sighed but didn't push further.
That was one of the things Ha Jun appreciated most.
He didn't need pressure.
He needed space to breathe through the cracks.
"Take the restock tonight," Jin Soo said. "I'll handle cash."
Ha Jun nodded, grateful. Restocking kept his hands busy and his mind quiet or quieter, at least.
He grabbed the scanner and a cart of boxed items before moving to the back aisle. It was quieter there, away from people. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly above him, creating a strange comfort. His breath evened out as he knelt to open a box of bottled water.
One bottle.
Two bottles.
Three bottles.
The repetition helped.
Until his vision wavered.
He froze, gripping the edge of the shelf. A faint ringing filled his ears. The room felt too bright, too loud, too close. He blinked several times, willing the world to steady.
Not again.
Please not now.
He inhaled slowly through his nose, counting.
One. Two. Three. Four.
His heartbeat calmed,slightly.
But the panic did not leave entirely.
It never left completely.
After a minute, he resumed stocking the bottles, though his hands shook slightly.
The customer count increased as the night deepened. Couples came in holding hands, students grabbed energy drinks, tired office workers purchased instant meals. Life moved around him like a fast river, and he stood in the middle pretending not to drown.
Around 10 p.m., the store door chimed softly.
He didn't look up at first. He was busy wiping down the counter.
"Ha Jun?"
His hand froze.
He knew that voice.
He turned slowly.
Ji Hye stood there, her hair tied loosely behind her head, wearing a soft cream sweater and jeans. She held a small notebook under her arm. Her presence shifted something in the air. Gentle. Quiet. But somehow piercing.
"Oh," he said with a smile he didn't plan. "Hey."
"You work here?" she asked.
He nodded. "Part time."
She glanced around the store, then back at him.
"You must be exhausted."
He laughed, trying to sound light.
"It's not that bad."
She studied him.
Really studied him.
Like she could see straight through his smile.
"What brings you here this late?" he asked to distract her.
"I was studying at the library. Got hungry." She lifted a bag of chips. "Also… I was thinking a lot. I needed air."
He nodded. "Studying can feel suffocating sometimes."
"It wasn't the studying," she said softly.
He paused.
Before he could reply, a customer interrupted, asking about cigarette prices. Ha Jun assisted them quickly. When he turned back, Ji Hye stood near the window, looking at the night sky as if it held answers she desperately needed.
He walked over quietly.
"Everything okay?"
Ji Hye turned to him. Her eyes looked strangely emotional.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"You're always smiling," she said. "In class. In the hallway. Now, even while working."
She swallowed. "Why?"
Ha Jun blinked.
He did not expect that.
"I smile because…" He paused, choosing the safest answer. "It makes things easier."
"For you or for other people?" she asked softly.
His heart skipped.
She wasn't supposed to ask questions like this.
She wasn't supposed to look at him like she could see the cracks.
He forced a gentle laugh. "Both, I guess."
He began arranging snack packs on the shelf beside him, pretending he was unbothered. But his hands trembled slightly.
She noticed.
She stepped closer.
"Ha Jun… you don't have to pretend with me."
He froze.
Pretend.
The word echoed in his mind like footsteps in an empty hall.
He forced another smile. "I'm not pretending."
Her eyes softened.
She didn't argue.
Arguing would have made him close up completely.
Instead, she said, "Okay. But… if you ever feel like talking to someone… I don't mind listening."
Her voice was warm, not demanding. Not forceful.
Just… there.
Something inside him stung.
Something raw.
Something he kept sealed tightly behind his ribs.
But he still shook his head lightly.
"I'm fine," he whispered.
The lie tasted bitter tonight.
Her gaze held his for a long moment.
Then she gave a gentle nod, respecting his boundary even as worry lingered in her eyes.
"Then… can I stay awhile?" she asked softly.
"To keep you company," she added quickly, "so you don't get too bored on your shift."
He hesitated.
Connection scared him.
Being seen scared him more.
But loneliness held a heavier weight tonight.
"…Sure," he said finally.
Ji Hye sat at the small table near the window as he continued working. She opened her notebook and began sketching something. He occasionally glanced her way, not intentionally, but something about her presence soothed the tightness in his chest.
For the first time in a while, the silence around him didn't feel threatening.
It felt… shared.
Around midnight, the store emptied. The streets quieted. The sky deepened to a velvety black.
Ji Hye closed her notebook and approached him, holding something.
"I drew this," she said, offering the page shyly.
He flipped it over.
It was a sketch of him.
Restocking shelves.
A soft, almost melancholic expression on his face.
Not the smile he always wore, something truer.
He felt his breath catch.
"You…"
"I know," she said quickly. "I should have asked first. Sorry. I just… I draw what I feel. And when I saw you working, you looked… gentle. And lonely. But also strong. Like someone who doesn't even realize how brave he is."
He stared at the page.
No one had ever described him like that.
No one had ever seen past the smile long enough to notice his loneliness.
He swallowed.
"Thank you," he whispered, voice barely audible.
Ji Hye smiled. "Keep it. If you want."
He nodded slowly.
He wasn't sure why, but he carefully folded the paper and slipped it into his notebook.
When her phone buzzed, she checked it and winced.
"I should go. My dorm locks at one."
"I'll walk you to the bus stop," he said before thinking.
She blinked. "Are you allowed to?"
"I'm on break."
It was a lie.
But Jin Soo glanced up from the counter and waved him off with a knowing smile.
"Go," he said.
"I'll handle things."
Ji Hye waited outside while he removed his apron and stepped into the cold night air. His breath fogged in the darkness. A quiet wind blew, brushing against his face. For the first time that day, the cold felt grounding.
They walked side by side down the empty street. Leaves rustled along the pavement, and the dim streetlights cast long shadows behind them.
"Ha Jun," she said softly, after a moment of silence.
"Mm?"
"When did you start working here?"
"Three years ago."
"That long?"
He nodded.
"Why?" she asked carefully.
He hesitated, choosing his words.
"Life got… complicated. I needed to help out. And keep busy."
"Busy enough to forget things?" she asked.
His breath hitched.
He stared straight ahead.
"I don't want to forget," he murmured. "I just… don't want to break again."
The words slipped out before he could catch them.
Ji Hye stopped walking.
He took two steps more before realizing she wasn't beside him.
He turned.
She was looking at him with eyes full of something heavy… and tender.
"You don't have to break alone," she whispered.
The wind carried her words softly.
Almost too softly.
He froze.
His throat tightened.
He wanted to walk away.
He wanted to stay.
He wanted to breathe.
He wanted to disappear.
Everything inside him felt tangled.
"Ji Hye," he said quietly, "don't worry about me."
She took a small step toward him.
"I don't want to worry. I just… do."
Before he could respond, the bus appeared at the corner.
Ji Hye looked at him for a long moment.
Then she smiled - small, warm, but a little sad.
"Goodnight, Ha Jun."
He forced a smile back. "Goodnight."
She boarded the bus and found a seat near the window. As it pulled away, she watched him through the glass.
He stood there under the dim streetlight, hands in his pockets, head slightly lowered. Alone in the quiet night.
Her heart ached.
She whispered something he never heard.
"Why do I feel like you're hurting more than anyone realizes?"
The bus turned the corner.
The night swallowed its light.
And Ha Jun stood there for a long time before he finally walked back to the store.
The rest of the shift passed quietly, but the silence felt heavier now. When he returned home after dawn, his family was asleep. The house felt like a ghost of warmth.
He entered his room, shut the door, and let the smile fall.
The darkness welcomed him like an old enemy.
He sank slowly to the floor, pressing his forehead against his knees, breath shaking uncontrollably.
The panic rose.
The loneliness expanded.
The memories screamed.
Nights are the hardest.
He knew this better than anyone.
And as the sun began to rise outside his window, Ha Jun cried silently into his arms.
For a moment , just a moment he allowed himself to break.
No one saw.
No one knew.
Except maybe… Ji Hye.
Somewhere in her dorm room, she stared at the sketch she gave him and whispered,
"Why does it feel like your quiet is a storm?"
The city woke up.
The world moved on.
But inside the small bedroom of a boy who smiled too easily…
…The quiet season had only just begun.