AN: I didn’t intend for this to be kind of sad. This idea started out all nice and soft and weird. And then I got sad and then oops
~~~
There you were.
Atop of the old Scarborough Hill.
The place you had described to him with such lucidity, he felt he had been there too; scurrying along the green, flying kites so high up they appeared like crimson dashes in the clouds.
It was now a wreck, festering with undergrowth and thorns, overgrown and thick, half of its face lost to the heavy rain a year before, discarded to more of a cliff than a hill.
Even though you could no longer run around freely without checking your step, for rabbit holes or mud or brambles, you still came up here when the ground below no longer felt secure.
Even if the ground up there was most likely much less safe, you loved it all the same.
He should have made this the first place he looked.
As he stumbled around rhododendrons, wilted and mottled in the rain, he took a deep breath, noticing how close you were to the edge. He wanted to call out to you, ask you to come away, but he knew it wouldn’t draw you any further back.
Coming to your side, he wound his hands deeply into his pockets, the damp air matting his hair.
“Found you,” he murmured with a smile.
Your eyes brightened, but you didn’t look away from the sky. “Ah, Mr Seo. I never doubted you for a second.”
Not too far above, a kestrel hovered. Soft ochre feathers struck the light drizzling grey bluntly, as its dappled wings beat the wind, holding its sleek body poised while its eyes keened downwards.
“It’s strange...” he stated, “it’s you that’s leaving this time, rather than me.”
He watched your head dip, as you readjusted your waterproof coat. “I know. I never thought it’d happen. Did you?”
He chuckled briefly, voice tinged with despondence. “No, never.” He pressed his fringe back, blinking up at the full extent of the sky. “But you know you can’t run away from it, Y/N.”
“I know, I just,” you paused, feeling your throat constrict ever so slightly, “just don’t want to say the words at all, you know?”
You peered up at him, where he met your gaze, his soft lips twitching immediately into a smile.
He extended his fingers, brushing against your cheek, speckled rouge and icy by the empty breeze.
His skin was met by a sliver of transparency. It welled in your eyes and was lost to the world before you could hold it back.
Without hesitation, you pressed yourself against his chest. A cacoon of warmth, mellow and smooth with kindness and peace. The scent that surrounded you never felt like anything other than home - faint traditional laundry detergent, mixed with some unrecognisable confectionary and the pine of a cologne with a price you couldn’t imagine.
You could set yourself free for just a bit when he was around you.
You snuck your mittens around his neck, as he wrenched his arms out of his pockets to cradle you, like he always did.
“Hey...!” he hushed, head gently falling unto its bed on the crown of your hair, “It’s not like you’re going forever! I’ll still be here.”
“But this time won’t be, this place won’t be!”
“You say that as if we’ll never see each other again,” he chided dejectedly, “you know I wouldn’t let that happen-”
“But what if it did happen?” you cried, swallowing thickly and speaking into his jacket, “not... not like it was anyone’s fault, but- you know I never answer my phone! I forget...”
“You won’t forget,” he assured, hands tightening at your waist.
You took a shaky breath. “Maybe it’s better if I just stay here-”
“No!”
He held you at arm's length abruptly. His stare was intense, and this time you leant away. You opened your mouth to speak, but he gave you no opportunity.
“No. You will not stay here,” his tone stern, “give up your ambition for me? Some? Some dumb guy from Chicago? Who’s never even around as much as he should be?” He scoffed. “No!”
You straightened, smiling sheepishly. “Ok, I didn’t mean that I swear.”
“Promise?” He leant down, almost tauntingly.
“I promise. I’m just depresso.”
“And that was the depresso talking?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Silence settled upon the two of you like fog drifted across a plain. You rubbed your eyes with your coat sleeve, forgetting the drizzle had made it damp, leaving your face even colder.
Working up the courage to face him properly, bracing your eyes for the wind, you noticed the kestrel had swooped down below. Or flown away, you’d been too preoccupied to know.
“I’m proud of you, you know?”
Seeing him beam like that, cheeks smushed and eyes curved, his words... you felt you could cry all over again.
“I’m proud of you too!” you mumbled, voice too strained to manage much else.
“And you better come and visit me!” He ordered playfully. “Or else...!”
You matched his mischievous glint, “Hmm, I’m not sure...”
He pouted. Exaggeratedly. Full, enlarged, puppy dog eyes. The full deal.
You couldn’t help but break into laughter, “Of course! Tree.”
“Aw, thank you, midget.”
You gravitated back into his arms, your gloved hands coming to reach his cheeks delicately. “Kiss me?”
“Normally I wouldn’t hesitate, but,” he side-eyed the ledge, “can we come a little bit further away from Certain-Death-TM, please?”
You abode his request, the two of you shuffling a few steps across, giggling softly.
And there, at the crestfallen face of Scarborough Hill, crowned by the dying light tainted grey, your lips met for the final time.
