Dating

How is my drawing and my story?

The walls feel too close. The air is too thin. Aya’s back is pressed to the corner — nowhere to go. Her breath stutters. Her mouth moves, but her words are fractured — falling apart before they reach her lips.

Aya (stammering, whispering):
“I—I d-didn’t… I didn’t mean… I was— I’m— I’m sor—ry, I-I didn’t— I don’t—please—don’t—”

Hyun (hovering, voice low):
“Is that supposed to be talking? Or are you just proving what I already know?”

Aya’s hands are trembling in front of her chest. She’s not shielding herself anymore — she’s just… begging. Her body curls in on itself.

Aya (gasping through tears):
“P-please I—I’ll d-do anything I—don’t h-hurt—me, I—I’m s-sor–sorry I didn’t—mean—”

Hyun (stepping closer):
“Look at you.”

He scoffs. His voice turns colder.

Hyun:
“Listen to yourself. That’s all you are. Noise. Broken sounds from a broken girl.”

Aya (barely coherent):
“I’m— I’m not— I’m—I’m good— I was—I t-tried…”

Hyun (mocking):
“You tried?”
“Who told you trying matters when you’re this worthless?”

He leans in close. His breath brushes her cheek.

Hyun (darkly):
“Even your apology doesn’t sound human.”

Aya (covering her face, sobbing):
“P-please…”

Hyun (straightening):
“No. Please is what people say when they have something left to lose.”
“You? You lost it all the day you were born.”

He watches her sink down to the floor. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth — not joy. Satisfaction.

Hyun:
“You’re not even worth hating anymore. Just… destroying.”
How is my drawing and my story?
How is my drawing and my story?
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