#kino.

[zylokv]

GROWING DIFFERENTLY. — MINATOZAKI SANA

❝ you can pay this time. ❞

synopsis — a video. a beautiful girlfriend. the perfect prank. notice — small fluff, idolxnon-idol, written with simplicity. pairing — minatozaki sana x reader ! disclaimer ! this is a work of fiction created purely for entertainment purposes. all events are fictional. while this story may feature public figures, it is not meant to reflect their real thoughts, actions, or relationships. please remember: nothing depicted in this story actually happened.

THE SCREEN FLICKERS WITH A TIKTOK, and you’re immediately hooked by a guy holding a receipt like it’s a bomb about to explode, a nervous grin stretched across his face. “forgot my wallet prank on the loml” the caption reads. the audio hit— a dramatic gasp layered with chaotic laughter, and your shoulders shake from stifled giggles.

the comments scroll by, each one a punchline of chaos:

“she was calculating how long he'll be washing 'em dishes”

“did this once, my gf apparently brought my wallet for me. ”

“bro is not getting lucky tonight.”

you laugh out loud, clutching your phone, and for a second the world feels absurdly bright and silly. the cat jumps at the noise, annoyed, and you pause to pet it absently, still grinning.

your phone buzzes, breaking your focus. sana.

you open the attachment. the mirror selfie hits you instantly. sana is sitting elegantly on the huge black couch, legs casually up, hair down freely, the kind of effortless beauty that makes your chest tighten a little. momo’s in the middle, energy at full volume, double peace signs over her eyes. mina leans casually against the mirror on the left, peace sign over her right eye, that quiet little smile that makes everything look too polished. and sana, of course, is perfect— her grin mischievous in a way that feels like she knows exactly how cute she is.

you snap a picture in return— your laptop open on a ongoing TIME TO TWICE video. somehow having them both on your screen twice at once makes it even funnier. i am clearly a grown adult, this is perfect.

you toss your phone on the bed and stretch, thinking about tonight. alright. she’s going to sit there all calm and cute, thinking everything’s normal… and then, bam. “oh no, i forgot my wallet” you picture her face, that mix of panic, slight indignation, mock outrage, and your lips twitch with anticipation. she’s going to be dramatic. she’s going to absolutely fake-gasp. oh my god.

you peel yourself off the bed and shuffle to the bathroom, towel over your shoulders, muscles still tight from earlier. steam fogs the mirror immediately. you catch your reflection and laugh quietly at yourself. this is ridiculous. why am i already this excited about pretending to be broke?

you finish your shower, hair damp, towel wrapped around you, and glance at your phone again.

sana’s reply is instant.

proof or it didn't happen.

you groan, rolling your eyes dramatically, though there’s a stupid grin on your face.

you drop the phone face-down and start picking your outfit carefully. casual but polished. subtle perfume, soft enough that it’s noticeable only when she’s close. you smooth your shirt, tug your pants, check your reflection.

you slip the phone in your pocket. the flutter in your chest picks up.

you pause in front of the mirror one last time, smooth your hair, tug at your shirt.

the anticipation stretches, soft and delicious. the world outside your apartment is dim and quiet, the perfect stage. and tonight, you remind yourself with a smile.

THE EVENING AIR IN SEOUL WAS COOL AND LIGHT, carrying faint hints of spring blossoms and warm asphalt. you step into the restaurant behind sana, catching the way her brown wavy hair bounces slightly as she moves, the black pants and white tank simple but striking. she slides into the chair with a relaxed smile, and you can’t help but grin.

“so… GRAFF ambassador in Paris next week, huh?” you ask, sitting and then leaning back in your chair.

“yeah,” she says, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “launch events, press stuff… supposed to sparkle. no pressure.”

“no pressure,” you repeat with a grin. “you always outshine everything anyway, i mean come on, This Is For comeback, full stadiums, trending everywhere.”

she laughs, eyes lighting up. “don’t flatter me too much. people might start believing you.”

“sure sure,” you say, letting your hand brush lightly against hers on the table.

“you’re impossible,” she says, smirking, tapping your fingers with hers.

you smile gently. “charming. don’t forget charming.”

the waiter arrives, sliding steaming plates across the table — perfectly plated, aromatic, the kind of fancy dishes that feel like an experience. she picks up her fork, eyes glinting, and scoops a bite of something soft and delicate.

she smirks, leaning forward to feed you a small bite from her plate. "baby, taste this."

you watch her, that playful gleam in her eyes, the little smirk, and wow. she’s effortlessly radiant. the kind of person who lights up the room without even trying, you think, swallowing the bite she fed you.

“not bad, right?” she teases. “but i expect desserts soon.”

“whatever my beautiful girl wants.” you reply with a grin, letting your gaze linger.

“and you,” she says, a sly smirk tugging at her lips, “look too good just sitting there. it’s distracting. i might have to kiss you later.”

okay, focus, you remind yourself, though your chest is a little warmer than it should be. she’s gorgeous, she’s playful, she’s laughing — she's… perfect.

the conversation drifts naturally. what happened at her practice, Paris once more, the chaos that'll happen behind the GRAFF launch— and of course her teasing that doesn’t stop. she takes a bite of her food, then grins. “hmm, not bad. maybe you’re spoiling me too much tonight,” she quips.

“impossible,” you reply, leaning in just enough to brush your arm against hers under the table. “someone’s got to. and you look like you deserve it.”

she chuckles softly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “you look… way too cute right now. it’s unfair.”

after a while of small talk (flirting), you wave down the waiter, while wiping your mouth with a napkin. thinking of the small prank, you internally grin like an idiot.

the waiter arrives with the bill, sliding it across the table, and leave with a small bow. you reach into your pocket. nothing. pat the other pocket. still nothing.

you look at her, trying to stop the ridiculous smile creeping in. "my love, i must've forgotten my wallet..."

her eyes widen. “wait... what?”

you pat your empty pockets, shrugging like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “eh.. it's fine, you can pay this time.”

sana blinks at you. "baby."

"yes..?" you blinked back.

“you’re joking.” she huffed, eyes squinting.

“why would i joke about woman empowerment?” you answer smoothly, like it’s the most logical thing in the universe.

her eyebrows shoot up, and her mouth opens slightly. “i... what?”

“think about it,” you continue, leaning back, grinning. “you’ve been running the world lately— twice-successful comeback, stadiums screaming your name, ambassador trip to paris for graff… i think you can handle a dinner bill. moral support only goes so far.”

sana frowns, her lip twitching. “that’s… rude.”

“rude?” you echo, pretending to be scandalized. “nah, it’s me growing. letting others contribute sometimes.”

“growing... cheap,” she mutters, voice dripping with playful judgment, though there’s that subtle disappointment you know too well.

her disappointment isn’t about money, she’s richer than you’ll ever be, a fact she could never let you forget. but… this is the part that makes her flustered: minatozaki sana loves being spoiled.

the way you insist, the little gestures, the exaggerated chivalry. she loves the princess treatment, and right now it feels... withheld. it makes her want to whine, pout, and maybe kick you under the table, all at once. she hates that it gets her like this.

“you always pay,” she says, sighing, mock scandal in her tone. “every date, every meal... and now… now you’re trying to grow cheap? you’re breaking my heart and our unspoken rules at the same time.”

“okay,” you say, laughing, leaning closer. “you did say you wanted to treat me once in awhile.”

sana groans, throwing her napkin down, getting her prada bag with a HUGE frown. “i hate you.”

“love you too,” you reply, winking. “but also, obviously, i’m paying.”

her eyes widen, and she her hand freezes, like you’ve just declared war. “wait… what?”

you pull your black card from your wallet with a flourish, laughing. “surprise. princess treatment restored. don’t worry, your empire is safe.”

sana huffs, crossing her arms, pouting, her cheeks pink. “i can’t believe this. i can’t even... you’re insufferable.”

“yeah, but admit it,” you tease, the waiter come backs, and you hand your card to him. “you missed it already, didn’t you?”

“hmph,” she mutters, leaning back with the tiniest whine. “i did not miss it. i just... can’t believe you.”

you grin, reaching across the table, catching her hand in yours. “oh, come on, you're still not used to this?”

she drags her hand from the table, still pouting, but lets you hold it. “you’re ridiculous,” she says, but there’s laughter in her tone now.

“hey,” you say, tugging her gently as you rise, “you can pay me back… with kisses.”

sana scowls, but there’s a small smirk, an inevitable warmth creeping over her. “seriously? that’s your payment plan?”

“absolutely,” you grin. “i accept those simple payments.”

she groans again, letting herself be pulled along. “i hate you. and i love you. you know that, right?”

“yep,” you say, squeezing her hand once, the chaos of the night softening into something warm. “all part of the plan.”

kino's note — first and foremost, kino would like to wish happy christmas and happy new year's eve! a tragic year i've had—i lost my passion for writing. the only reason i kept going was because of my journalism. but, pushing through led to my burnout. and it took a toll. now this fic stands as it is— as you can see it's not overly descriptive, something i'm slowly adjusting to. i’ve learned that not everyone enjoys long, ahh heavy writing, and that’s okay. as 2026 creeps in, i'd genuinely like to get back into fanfiction, rather than writing about news, and travels all day., but that might just me be ig ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ kino would like everyone to take care, and always stay strong. kino going to bed.

[zylokv]

I LEFT YOU EVERYTHING, YOU LEFT ME WAITING. — MINATOZAKI SANA

❝ what if i did a solo performance? just for you. ❞

synopsis — they weren’t supposed to fall. not like that. not in stolen moments behind the cameras or in the quiet lull between takes. but somehow, it happened anyway — slowly, gently, like a secret being kept. and just as quietly, it all fell apart. someone trusted made sure of that. and now it’s been weeks. she still checks her phone in the middle of the night, hoping. you still think about her smile, and wonder if any of it was ever real. both of you still waiting. both of you still in the dark. notice — emotional angst/unrequited love, miscommunication, implied sabotage, idolxnon-idol, written with realism, metaphors, and a slow and painful unravelling love story. pairing — minatozaki sana x reader ! disclaimer ! this is a work of fiction created purely for entertainment purposes. all events are fictional. while this story may feature public figures (e.g., sana from twice), it is not meant to reflect their real thoughts, actions, or relationships. please remember: nothing depicted in this story actually happened.

you’re early, but so’s the sun. it spills over the rooftops like it has nowhere better to be, catching on the palm fronds and rust-red tin of the surf shack across the street. myna birds argue overhead in the breadfruit tree. usual noise.

you lean against the old tour van, logo half-faded, bumper held together by duct tape and denial. the iced coffee in your hand is more ritual than refreshment.

“you hear 'em yet?” comes a voice behind you.

you glance back. keoni’s stepping out of the gear shed, chewing on dried mango, curls smashed under a cap that’s seen better years.

“nah,” you reply, “but if they’re late, you’re doing the intro hike in that hat.”

he laughs. “they’re idols, not royalty.”

you arch a brow. “tell that to the last crew who filmed here and needed someone to ‘escort the mosquitoes away.’”

“i escorted them straight into the gulch.”

you snort. silence settles for a breath. the crew’s been buzzing—two artists visiting on a break, no cameras yet, just a private walk. low-key, but big. some newer guides offered to take it, but they asked for you. probably because you don’t ask for autographs. probably because you don’t talk much.

a van pulls up, sleek and black, windows tinted like a secret.

keoni gives a low whistle. “showtime.”

you push off the bumper, brush the sand off your legs, walk toward the driveway as the door slides open.

first out: sharp eyes, clipboard, no patience. manager. she gives you a look like she’s seen every kind of idiot and hopes you’re the exception.

“you’re the guide?”

“yep. and you’re the one who’ll yell at me if i let them touch sea turtles, right?”

her lip twitches—almost a smile. she steps aside.

and then they step out.

sana, all light and limbs, laughing at something inside the van. miyeon follows, sunglasses too big for her face, waving like there’s a red carpet no one else can see. they look like they were airlifted straight from a magazine into the humidity without even blinking.

you keep your tone easy. “aloha. welcome to hale‘iwa. i’m your guide today. just me. no cameras yet, so you’re stuck with my jokes until they get here.”

sana gives you a once-over, curious but not unfriendly. “we heard you’re the best.”

“that was probably my mom,” you say. “she has a lot of burner accounts.”

miyeon snorts. “yah—if this turns out to be the 'oops i forgot the water' tour, i’m calling dispatch.”

“deluxe package,” you say. “we only lose a few people on that one.”

behind them, keoni appears with a crate of gear. you nod toward him.

“this is keoni. if you fall into a lava tube, he’s in charge of pretending we trained for that.”

he waves. “i left my rope at home.”

“that’s a joke,” you add. “kind of.”

you help distribute water bottles and light packs. miyeon chatters while adjusting her straps, and sana asks about the flower behind a staff member’s ear.

“left side,” you say, overhearing. “means they’re taken. right side, single.”

sana turns, brows up. “and you? which side do you wear yours on?”

her voice is light. but her eyes aren’t.

you look at her, then smile. “depends on the day.”

“mm,” she says, like she’s filing that away.

you gesture toward the path carved between trees. “alright, we’ll head through a shaded route up to a lookout. no drones, no crowds, just us and the mosquitoes. try not to flirt with them. they take it seriously.”

“do they bite harder when you lead them on?” miyeon asks.

“worse,” you say. “they ghost you after.”

sana lets out a small chuckle.

the trail begins with soft ground, old roots reaching like fingers across the dirt. you point out ‘ōhi‘a trees, explain the legends of pele and hi‘iaka. your voice is steady, practiced—but you’re watching them. especially her.

sana stays close. not too close. she asks about the birdsong, the smooth black rock, the kapu signs carved near the tree line. she listens like she’s used to noise and this quiet unnerves her in a good way.

miyeon’s already up ahead, spinning in slow circles, filming her feet.

the wind shifts. you smell the ocean again, faint but constant, and the distant trace of charcoal from someone grilling down by the beach road.

the first scenic stop opens ahead, a bluff over shallow tidepools and lava shelves. the camera crew’s waiting at a distance, giving you space. they haven’t started filming yet.

you pause at the edge, the sun low behind you, painting sana and miyeon in warm orange light. miyeon lifts her phone, posing without being asked.

sana steps beside you.

“you really live here?” she asks.

you nod. “grew up bouncing between islands. this one stuck.”

“doesn’t it get lonely?”

you watch the horizon. “sometimes. but the view’s decent.”

"yeah, it's beautiful."

she turns her head. just slightly. her eyes linger. not on the ocean.

the tide’s gone quiet, pulled back just enough to reveal the black stone pools scattered like mirrors across the lava shelf. water glints in the shallows. a kolea bird watches from the edge, still as carved bone, its eyes sharp like it remembers more than it should.

hermit crabs trace slow spirals in the wet sand. their shells catch the sun like dropped garnets.

you stand off to the side, close enough to explain things, far enough that they’ll cut you out of the final shot. there’s a mic clipped to your collar anyway. the sound tech gave you a thumbs-up earlier like you did something brave. you’re trying not to think about that.

miyeon’s crouched near a tidepool, poking at the reflection of a fish with a twig she definitely wasn’t supposed to take.

“what happens if i fall in?” she asks, grinning.

“free exfoliation,” you say, and then with a glance at the camera, “not recommended.”

sana laughs behind her, clear and bright like she’s never been tired. she’s squinting into the sun, shielding her eyes with one hand and fiddling with the mic pack at her waist with the other. her hair’s clipped up, loose pieces catching the wind. the stylist tries again to help, but sana waves them off.

“this water’s so clear,” she says, leaning closer to the tidepool. “it’s like a glass bowl.” she pauses. “are the crabs single?”

you blink. “…what?”

she glances over her shoulder with a smile too sharp to be innocent. “you said earlier the flower behind your ear means you’re single. what about the crabs? do they wear little hibiscus too?”

“only the hot ones.”

laughter bubbles up—real, from the crew and from miyeon, who actually claps. sana laughs too, cheeks turning slightly pink as she looks away, back toward the water.

“i like you,” she says.

your breath catches.

then—“i mean the dad jokes,” she adds quickly, teasing. “good material.”

you rub the back of your neck. one of the camera guys catches it and snorts behind the lens. you step sideways again, pretending to check the rocks, subtly trying to disappear.

she doesn’t let you, though.

not really.

her gaze follows you whenever she thinks you won’t notice. when you talk, she listens too carefully. when you point out the limu kohu, the petroglyphs carved deep into the lava, she hums under her breath like she wants to memorize the rhythm of your voice.

you talk about the mo‘olelo behind the sea caves, about the bones buried beneath stone that no one touches anymore. miyeon is still skipping ahead, half-dancing over uneven ground, but sana’s gone still.

she only moves again when you do.

“can we take selfies with the rock that looks like a turtle?” miyeon calls out. “i want to send it to our manager and pretend it followed us home.”

“sure,” you say. “i’ll make sure they consent.”

the boom operator snorts. miyeon throws you a wink like you’ve just auditioned for her next sitcom.

they film for twenty more minutes. the wind pulls at sana’s sleeves. sun glints off the curve of her earring. her questions never stop—what flower is that? how old is this lava? did you always live here?

but it’s not the questions that get to you.

it’s the way she asks. like she’s testing something. like she already knows the answer but wants to hear your voice wrap around it anyway. her eyes flick to you when you think she’s distracted. her shoulder brushes yours once. twice. again.

and you—

you pretend not to notice.

mostly.

when the crew finally calls a cut, it’s late enough the rocks are warming underfoot. someone shouts for a break to reset gear. you lead them higher, where the trail plateaus under a grove of hau trees—broad-limbed and slanted toward the sun, their yellow blossoms falling like pieces of afternoon.

you pass around water bottles, then sit off to the side near a beat-up cooler. your shirt sticks slightly to your back, damp from the walk, but you don’t tug at it. miyeon fans herself with a palm frond, dramatically narrating her own personal survival doc. sana drops down near her, sweat at her temples, but still watching you.

you’re talking with one of the writers—older, in a sunhat and sunglasses and a linen shirt that might’ve been white once. her notebook rests on her knees, the pages half-crumpled from years of use.

“you still eat those li hing mui mangoes?” she teases, scribbling something.

you lean back on your hands. “only when i want to experience death recreationally.”

“please. you loved them in college.”

“i had fewer taste buds back then.”

she laughs, and sana turns her head a little.

college?

miyeon’s still babbling into her phone off to the side, pretending to sell lychee juice like it’s the last product on earth. sana doesn’t look at her.

the writer lowers her voice a little. “you know, i told them you don’t really do this.”

you shrug. “i don’t.”

“they asked why. i said it’s usually a no unless i’m the one asking. and even then, only if it’s raining and you’re bored.”

you glance at her, but say nothing.

sana shifts. the wind picks up, shaking petals from the hau branches. they drift like lazy confetti across the dirt.

“so what changed?” she asks suddenly.

you turn. she’s lounging like she doesn’t care, one leg crossed over the other, arms slack, gaze tilted away from yours. but her voice is steady. deceptively so.

“what do you mean?”

“why’d you take this one?” she asks, still looking at the writer, not you. “if you don’t usually take people like us.”

your jaw works quietly. you glance at the writer. she lifts a shoulder, amused.

“they’ve got their reasons,” she says vaguely, biting the cap of her pen. “probably something poetic. i’ve been trying to squeeze it out for a decade.”

you exhale. “it wasn’t the cameras,” you say at last.

sana raises an eyebrow, just slightly.

“it wasn’t the schedule,” you add. “wasn’t the crew. wasn’t the fee.”

“then what was it?” she presses, eyes on you now.

you glance at her, then back at the dirt.

you remind me of someone. “she was really persistent..” you say blaming the write with a slight grin.

sana’s lips part, but miyeon bounds back in at that exact moment, clutching a lychee like it’s her firstborn. “guys. guys. are we talking about how lucky we are yet? because i’d like to thank the academy and also my sweat glands for keeping it real.”

you chuckle under your breath.

sana doesn’t laugh. she just keeps watching you.

“you’re good at this,” she says, quieter now. “talking about hawaii. like it’s not just a place.”

you glance at her.

“like it’s alive,” she finishes. “like it’s part of you.”

you look down at your hands. your thumbs run slow over the ridges of your water bottle.

“it is,” you murmur.

the breeze softens. miyeon flops dramatically onto a picnic blanket, muttering about hydration. the sun slips through the trees like warm syrup, pooling in patches of gold.

sana stretches back with a sigh. “you should be on camera more.”

“not my thing,” you say.

“why not?”

you half-smile. “i’m better off behind it.”

“maybe,” she says. “but you make it hard to look away.”

you glance up.

she’s not looking at you anymore, not exactly. her gaze drifts somewhere just to the side, like she’s already trying to turn that moment into memory.

you don’t answer.

the wind stirs again—leaves rustling, petals spinning—and for a second, you think the island might be answering for you.

don’t touch that—”

crack.

“…never mind.”

you blinked down at the snapped guava branch in miyeon’s hand. she froze like a guilty raccoon. sana stifled a laugh behind her fingers.

“that was structural,” you muttered, kneeling to check the low railing.

“it looked like a stick,” miyeon said innocently.

“a stick holding up the hillside,” you replied, brushing dirt from the crumbling base.

“well that’s... poor design,” she offered.

behind her, sana giggled again—soft, melodic, eyes crinkling.

“we’ll glue it back later?” she said.

“yeah,” you deadpanned. “we’ll patch it up with good intentions.”

“or duct tape,” miyeon added helpfully.

“or prayer,” you said under your breath.

keoni passed by, handing you a reflector bag. “i gotta check the van. you’re the boss till i get back.”

you gave him a small salute. “pray for me.”

he winked. “always.”

ahead, a lei-making station sat shaded beneath a wide mango tree, the aunty running it already eyeing you with the kind of mischief only decades could earn.

“eh!”

you flinched automatically.

aunty leina sat cross-legged on a low mat, ti leaves in her lap and a grin on her face that could split coconuts.

“you letting these girls break the valley now?” she called, eyebrows up.

you held up both palms. “not my fault, aunty. i said no touching. they touched anyway.”

“you gotta bring stronger tape,” she said, nodding at miyeon. “or one leash. or two.”

miyeon gasped dramatically. “is this bullying?”

“not unless you cry,” aunty said.

you stepped forward, grinning. “aunty, you still mad about that mango bread or what?”

“i should be. was dry as sand.”

“you ate the whole thing.”

“because i was being polite!”

you laughed and bent into a half-bow, holding both hands out as you approached her mat. she grabbed them immediately, pulling you down beside her with a grunt of approval.

“what you bringing me today?” she asked, glancing past you. “celebrities again?”

“not my fault,” you said. “they keep signing up.”

“bring me someone who knows how to hold scissors.”

“we’re working on it,” you said. “miyeon’s banned from touching plant life.”

aunty leina snorted. “you better be getting overtime for this.”

you looked sheepish. “i got lunch duty instead.”

she nudged you gently with her elbow, her voice lowering. “you still the same,” she said. “all quiet till you get somewhere safe. then boom—talking story like you live in my kitchen.”

“you’ve seen me in your kitchen,” you reminded her.

“exactly,” she said. “you forget to shut up.”

sana and miyeon caught up just as you laughed again, wiping your hands on your pants. miyeon dropped onto the mat and started inspecting the flower piles with the reverence of a child in a candy store.

sana stayed standing, brushing her long skirt with one hand.

aunty leaned closer to you again, voice sly. “eh... that one,” she said, nodding toward sana. “she got the eyes. soft kind. watching you like you grew from this land.”

you pressed your lips together. “aunty...”

“what?” she said, all innocence. “i’m just pointing.”

“you’re matchmaking.”

“same thing.”

sana stepped forward just then, crouching beside you. “these are so beautiful,” she said, eyes bright as she gently touched a strand of plumeria. “i don’t want to ruin them.”

“you won’t,” you said. “ti leaf first. fold it once, then thread the flower. you’ll get it.”

she looked at you. “you’re really patient.”

you shrugged, glancing at aunty leina. “i’ve had good teachers.”

aunty grunted proudly, as if you were her valedictorian.

“besides,” you added, handing sana a flower, “you’re better at this than miyeon.”

“hey,” miyeon called from across the mat, flower crown crooked on her head. “i’m art.”

“you’re chaos,” you corrected.

“art is chaos.”

you shook your head, but your smile betrayed you. the camera crew was still adjusting lenses, not yet rolling, and you—usually quiet, usually distant—were sitting easy in the middle of it all, fingers threading plumeria like you’d been born to do it.

aunty leina turned to one of the interns and whispered—loudly—“see how calm they are? that’s why everyone falls in love on this island.”

you looked up. “aunty…”

“i’m just saying,” she said, holding up her hands. “no shame in being charming. just don’t make her cry, eh?”

you blinked—startled by how quickly the teasing could turn real.

sana glanced between the two of you, the corners of her lips lifting. her shoulder brushed yours as she leaned down again, a little closer this time.

“you really are different when you’re not working,” she said, almost to herself.

you didn’t answer. you just handed her the next flower.

the sun caught the tops of the ti plants just right — sharp, soft green against the red of miyeon’s skirt and the white lei she had somehow managed to drape across her shoulder like a fashion statement. she laughed like the whole valley could hear her. probably could.

you kept to the edge of the clearing.

hands in your pockets. back to the wind.

“shoot, no one told me there’d be bugs with wings this confident.”

miyeon was mid-complaint, swatting gently at the air with the back of her hand as a persistent ʻōpeʻapeʻa hovered near her ear. she wasn’t scared—just annoyed, and dramatically so.

you leaned on the nearest rock, the kind smoothed down by generations of rain. the air smelled like crushed guava and warm dust. your boots pressed soft into the soil. the shade wasn’t much, but it was something. the mountain air was cooler here than down by the coast, and softer too. the kind of breeze that told you rain wasn’t far off.

sana’s hands were slower than miyeon’s, more careful. she looked up once — past the camera, past the boom mic — straight toward where you stood. it was just a glance. quick. not meant to land.

but it did.

you tilted your head a little. said nothing.

“leave the it alone,” someone from the crew called out with a grin. “he’s just flirting.”

“he’s standing like he’s auditioning for a romance movie poster,” miyeon shot back. “brooding by a rock.”

“looks like the quiet type,” the sound tech said. “probably writes poems at lunch.”

“no, he carves them into driftwood,” miyeon said proudly. “and releases them into the tide like messages in a bottle.”

sana, kneeling beside her, let out that light kind of laugh she always used when she was on camera floaty, practiced, just a little amused. but her eyes kept darting to the lei she was threading. fingers slow, deliberate. quieter.

“okay, what about you, sana?” miyeon leaned toward her, flowers half-finished and already tangled in her lap. “you like the sweet ones, right?”

“mm…” sana didn’t look up. her voice was soft, thoughtful. “i like when someone listens. really listens. not because they’re waiting to speak.”

one of the younger staffers made a low “oooh” from the side, and miyeon slapped her own thigh.

“wait, that was good. write that down. someone tweet it.”

the director behind the camera gave them a small cue to keep going, motioning a loop with his fingers. filler talk. b-roll footage. make it fun. make it personal.

you shifted your weight near the back of the set, adjusting the strap of your bag as a local aunty passed by carrying iced tea bottles. she nudged your shoulder with hers.

“you watching the show or the girl?” she whispered, grinning.

you gave her a small smile, shook your head. “watching the flowers, aunty.”

she snorted. “the flowers not the only thing blooming.”

you laughed under your breath and leaned a little on the rock behind you. from where you stood, you had a clean view of the clearing — and sana, who kept looking up with these barely-there glances. like she was checking for something. or someone.

you didn’t plan to step forward. but something pulled you. maybe curiosity. maybe just boredom. maybe it was her voice when she said

“and they should love nature. not like, documentary nature. real nature. messy hair and muddy shoes kind.”

you shifted, curious now, and stepped forward. just a little. just enough to stand behind the cam crew. between the lens and the valley, in a quiet limbo where only the breeze could touch you.

she didn’t say anything, but the look she gave you was new. like the warm part of the tide when it first wraps around your ankles.

sana noticed.

her shoulders straightened. her smile twitched.

she noticed immediately.

but she just blinked once and adjusted the strand of her lei. her expression didn’t change much, but something softened. the gaze she gave the camera next was… steady. direct. like she was saying something without opening her mouth.

miyeon clapped her hands. “i want a hot disaster. where’s my hot disaster?”

“in the microwave,” someone from the audio team muttered.

a few people laughed. you didn’t. you were still watching sana.

she was still watching you.

sana kept her hands moving, threading flower after flower. “it’s not that complicated,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “just want someone who makes you feel like… like you’re home.”

you weren’t sure why that stuck with you. maybe because she didn’t say it to the camera. maybe because she said it like it was true.

but you didn’t say anything. you just looked away.

the petals kept turning in her hands.

and somewhere in the footage, a glance was caught. a quick one, soft, aimed right where you stood — too quick to cut, too subtle to explain.

no one noticed on set. not even you.

not really-

but sana’s next smile lingered longer than the last.

just a little. ;)

the director called cut.

not loud — just a quiet wave of his hand, a soft “okay, let’s reset” as the audio crew unclipped wires from behind sana’s back. miyeon immediately flopped sideways onto the grass like she’d been holding up a skyscraper with her spine.

“i’m done,” she announced. “take me home. return me to factory settings.”

sana laughed, brushing stray petals off her lap. “you’re not even sweating.”

“exactly. that’s how you know i’m serious. this is internal damage.”

“internal damage from what?”

“from life, sana. from living.”

the youngest camera op passed by, hefting the b-cam onto their shoulder. “you’ve been sitting down the whole time.”

miyeon sat up just to glare. “i’ve been emotionally standing.”

aunty leina was already weaving between them with a basket, collecting the finished lei and handing out light scoldings. “no toss ‘em like trash,” she said, wagging a finger at miyeon. “you wear it, you respect it. even if you made it ugly.”

“mine is conceptual,” miyeon said, trying to untangle hers from her sleeve. “it tells a story.”

aunty gave her a look. “yeah. a sad one.”

“she keeps lookin’ at you,” he said.

you didn’t ask who. you just lifted the edge of the tarp, pretending not to hear.

“don’t play,” keoni added, grinning. “you know who.”

“nah,” you said. “too hot to think.”

he snorted. “nah, it’s her making you sweat.”

you were saved by a call from one of the producers — they were wrapping early today to give the team enough time to get footage back to the hotel and prep tomorrow’s shoot. that meant packing up, a long van ride back, and the final few minutes of down-time where everyone felt a little looser.

you ducked out from behind the tree and crossed the clearing again, arms behind your back as the breeze shifted west. your steps slowed when you saw sana still kneeling by the lei-making mat, hands resting in her lap. she looked up at the sound of your boots in the dirt.

“hey,” she said, soft.

you crouched beside her, careful not to knock any of the materials still strewn around. “hey.”

her eyes traced yours for a second. a long one.

she looked at you a second too long to be casual. then, like it was just conversation, “so… is this your main job? or do you have a secret life?”

you blinked. “secret life?”

“mm. spy? florist by day, vigilante by night?”

you gave a small laugh. “nothing that interesting.”

her smile curved. “i don’t believe you.”

you hesitated. normally you kept the line pretty firm — smile, wave, answer only what they needed for the show. but the way she looked at you then, like the question was less for the show and more for herself… you found your voice.

“i help out at a café,” you said, eyes flicking toward the trees. “in town. a friend of my uncle’s runs it. nothing fancy, just coffee, pastries, regulars who like arguing about the weather.”

“sounds cozy,” she said.

“it’s loud.”

“still sounds nice.”

you glanced at her — her hair catching the light, her posture relaxed for the first time all day.

“you work a lot?” she asked.

you shrugged. “depends. here when they need me. café when the schedule’s light. not really the sit-still kind.”

she smiled again, but this time it folded deeper. “me neither.”

you didn’t mean to ask it — it just fell out. “do you ever get tired of cameras?”

her smile turned quiet. “yes,” she said, honest. “but… i like meeting people like this. places like this.”

you didn’t answer. you were still watching her eyes when she reached to adjust the lei near her knees. the thread snagged slightly and she tipped forward to fix it — just a little shift of balance, barely a stumble.

you caught her elbow before she could fall.

“careful.”

sana laughed, a bit breathless. “oops.”

you didn’t let go right away. her skin was warm. soft. a few staff glanced your way, but no one said anything. not this time.

keoni’s voice crackled from the radio on your hip. “van’s ready. we rollin’?”

you tapped the mic. “copy. heading back.”

you let go gently and stood, brushing dirt off your palm. sana followed, slower. her eyes still lingered on your face.

as the group began making their way back toward the main trail, you fell into step behind the crew, trailing just far enough to keep an eye on the path.

sana dropped back too, matching your pace.

after a while, she said — lightly, like it didn’t matter — “so… are you guiding us again tomorrow?”

you paused, then nodded. “yeah. you got me till the end.”

she smiled. bright. quiet.

“good,” she said. “i was hoping so.”

you didn’t say anything — not out loud. but you felt something shift in the way she looked at you again.

like she was filing something away. tucking it behind her smile.

you kept walking.

ahead, miyeon tripped over a root and screamed something about cursed trees. the crew laughed.

sana didn’t.

she just looked at you again.

the clouds barely held together above hanapēpē, drifting thin and drowsy like they'd overslept. the air smelled faintly of seawater and roasted beans.

you had your head bent over the espresso machine, steam hissing softly, a practiced hand steadying the portafilter. your apron, worn and flecked with milk dust, hung loose over your frame. same routine, different day. behind you, the regulars muttered about surf forecasts and the price of mangoes. someone’s kid laughed near the pastry counter. outside, the breeze carried the chime of a wind-battered bell on the door.

you didn’t look up right away when it opened.

your head was down, one hand steadying the portafilter as the espresso ran slow into the shot glass. the smell of milk steaming, the sound of someone slicing into banana bread behind you. your sleeves were rolled up above your elbows.

you glanced up, halfway through a pour.

and there she was.

sana stood near the door like she hadn’t just scoured the whole damn town for you. her hair pulled loosely back, a light blue tank just visible beneath an open white button-down that fluttered slightly when the door shut behind her. a floral skirt swayed at her ankles — patterned, soft, the same blue as her top. like sunlight filtered through water.

you blinked once. nearly over-poured.

she smiled.

"hey," she said, a little breathless. “so… you do exist outside of trailheads.”

your first thought was she matched me. your second was she looks like summer on purpose.

your third was somewhere between how the hell did she find me and don’t smile too much, you’ll look ridiculous.

“only on days off,” you replied, sliding the used portafilter aside. “and only when i need to fund my overly lavish lifestyle.”

she gave a soft laugh, stepping closer to the counter. her hands touched the wood like she was testing its warmth. “mystery solved.”

you raised a brow. “you asked around?”

her cheeks tinted just barely. “i didn’t have that much to go on. miyeon was no help. she said something like, ‘if you wander around with fate in your heart, you’ll find them.’”

you snorted. “sounds like her.”

“and… i did find you.”

you stared at her, fingers stilling on the counter. you weren’t used to people looking for you like that. especially not in a skirt that matched your whole outfit.

“what’ll you have?” you asked after a pause, because you needed to do something, because standing still in front of her felt dangerous.

sana leaned her arms on the counter, watching your face. “something simple. americano.”

“iced or hot?”

“surprise me.”

you glanced down at her skirt again. “iced. you look like you’ve been outside too long.”

she laughed, head tilting. “i have.”

as you prepped the shot, she watched — not in that casual way tourists do, but carefully. you realized you kind of liked her watching. you kind of hated how much you liked it.

“so…” she said, her voice light, “you didn't really say where this beautiful coffee shop were”

you shrugged, keeping your eyes on the espresso. “didn’t think you’d want more caffeine after miyeon.”

“well. miyeon and i got lunch. and then i wandered.” she shrugs slightly feeling as it wasn't worth to mention how she walked for an hour to find you and already had two coffee with miyeon earlier.

you looked up at her then. “wandered?”

her smile twitched. “yeah. i have a good sense of direction.”

you stared for a beat longer. you tamped the espresso with more pressure than necessary.

you didn’t answer.

steam rose between you. she leaned closer through it.

“i like when you’re like this,” she said, and her voice was gentle, not teasing. “you’re… not what i expected.”

you just turned back to the drink. because that thing in your chest — that old twitchy thing that didn’t like being seen — was already shifting too much.

“you’ve got a lot of expectations for someone you’ve known three days,” you said.

“maybe.” she reached out — just a little. and brushed her fingers against a napkin holder. like she wanted to reach you, but was afraid of spooking something. “but you let me ask questions. you don’t stop me.”

“not yet.”

“i think that’s why i came.”

you handed her the cup, warm between both palms. her fingers brushed yours when she took it.

“try not to spill,” you said. you reached for a ragged towel that seen better days while wiping the counter

she took it, brushing her fingers against yours. “are you always this soft when you flirt?”

you blinked confused still wiping the counter clean. “i’m not flirting.”

“okay,” she said, sipping anyway. “but you still haven’t told me if you’re single.”

that made your hand freeze mid-wipe on the counter.

you looked at her carefully. “you always open with that?”

“only when i’ve already watched someone make coffee for me, be soft with a group of grandmothers, and explain lava rock to a camera with their hands behind their back like they don’t want to exist.”

she let her fingertips trace along the edge of her cup, soft and aimless, like she didn’t know what to do with the silence she’d created. you watched her, the slope of her lashes, how the sunlight through the window caught in her hair like it belonged there. like she belonged here.

you wiped your hand on a cloth and came around. you sat across from sana by the window, the light slanting gold between you both.

you opened your mouth. closed it.

then: “...i’m single.”

you didn’t mean to speak. but your voice came out anyway.

she smiled, looking down at her cup like it was just a casual thing. the corner of her mouth lifted, not a smirk, not a grin—something lighter. quieter. like she'd known but wanted to hear it anyway.

“thought so,” she said. low, teasing, but her gaze dropped a second too late for it to be casual.

you leaned your forearms against the table, shoulder tilted in her direction. “you’re very confident for someone who called me mysterious like twelve times this week.”

“i didn’t say mysterious,” she replied, a little sing-song. “i said quiet. and maybe avoidant.”

you rolled your eyes. “you’re not helping your case.”

her laugh was soft. she swirled her cup absently, like she was stalling. then turned her head to you, half-curious, half-playful. “so… do you know who we are?”

you blinked. “you and miyeon?”

she made a face. “nooo, i mean, yes, but—like... the group i’m in.”

you tilted your head at her slowly. “uhh... twice.”

her brows rose, impressed. “you do know.”

you shrugged. “teenage girl i know is a fan.”

her eyes lit up. “really?”

“she’s not here,” you said. “so you’re safe.”

sana laughed, the real kind that crinkles the skin around her eyes. “and you?”

“me?”

“do you like us?”

i like you.

the words came up like steam, fogging your thoughts. but you didn’t say them. you just leaned a little forward and said, “i haven’t heard enough to say.”

her gaze caught yours. “maybe you should.”

“you offering a concert?”

she leaned forward a little. “i could.”

“hm.” she tapped her fingers on the side of her cup. “what if i did a solo performance? just for you.”

your pulse hitched. you blinked once, then exhaled a little laugh into your sleeve.

“you’re too fast,” you murmured.

“you’re too slow,” she shot back, still smiling.

another pause, a longer one. the room faded around her for a second.

your pulse did something strange.

you looked down, biting back a smile,

“so,” she said eventually, her chin resting on her hand. “how’s life these days? giving tours in the morning, drinks in the afternoon?”

“normal,” you said. “no camera at least ”

“i missed you guys already,” she teased. “keoni was my favorite.”

“he liked you too.”

she tilted her head. “what about you?” she leaned forward slightly, like the distance between your knees wasn’t already criminal.

you blinked. “what about me?”

“do you like me?”

it knocked the breath out of your chest. she was smiling, that same bright grin she gave everyone, but there was a question behind it she hadn’t quite hidden. her eyes didn’t match the joke.

you didn’t answer right away. your gaze dropped to her hands wrapped around her cup. the chipped polish on her nails. the slight red tint on her knuckles from the sun.

“i think you’re good at talking,” you said slowly.

she squinted, suspicious. “that’s not a yes.”

you shook your head, a quiet huff of a laugh leaving your lips. “that’s a very nervous yes.”

her smile curled, softer now. she looked at you like you’d just given her a secret.

she leaned forward a little, elbows on the table. “you never answer my real questions.”

“you keep asking them in public,” you said. “that’s your fault.”

she tilted her head. “is this public?”

your throat dried. the café was mostly quiet now, the only sounds the soft clatter of dishes in the back and the hum of a machine you’d forgotten was running. one of the baristas, kahi, glanced over.

you raised your hand, beckoning her.

“can you take over for a bit?” you asked. “gonna take my break.”

kahi smiled knowingly. “sure. take your time.”

sana leaned back in her chair like she’d just won something.

“so,” she said again, grinning. “do you get bored of guiding people around here?”

you shook your head. “not really.”

“why not?”

“because most people leave. and when they do, it’s quiet again.”

she tilted her head. “you like it quiet?”

you looked at her. “i like it when people mean it when they say they’ll remember.”

sana blinked. her lips parted just slightly, like she wanted to ask something else, but her phone buzzed on the table. her eyes flicked to the screen. miyeon.

she picked it up and typed something quick. then she stood slowly, brushing her skirt down.

“i have to go,” she said. “miyeon’s waiting.” she reached for her cup, drank the last of it, then hesitated. her fingers played with the edge of the saucer.

you nodded, standing too, out of instinct more than anything.

she took her time standing, fingers lingering on the table’s edge. the hem of her white overshirt fluttered a little when she turned toward the door.

you stood with her.

she hesitated there, right by the frame, like the sunlight didn’t know which one of you to choose.

you walked her out.

she turned once, soft steps pausing near the corner. “hey... do you have instagram?”

you hesitated. blinked. “uh… i mean. i barely use it.”

“but you have one?”

“…yeah.”

“give it to me anyway,” she smiled.

your fingers hesitated, then reached into your apron for your phone. you pulled it out and handed it over, watching her eyes light up as she typed.

she took it like it was normal, like this happened all the time. except she wasn’t searching for the usual account.

her thumb hovered.

“i’m giving you my private one,” she said.

you blinked again.

“don’t tell anyone.” her smile curved, just a little. “miyeon doesn’t even know i give this out.”

you stared at her.

she tapped around on your phone for a moment, then stifled a laugh.

“wait,” she said, flashing the screen at you. “this is really your username? brewing.beach?”

you looked. winced.

“you said you didn’t really use it,” she said, scrolling. “but this is criminal. zero posts?”

“i wasn’t lying.”

“no bio. no story. no highlights.” her eyes were wide with mock horror. “you’re just… a digital ghost.”

you took your phone back. “i log in. i just don’t live there.”

“yeah, i can tell.” she grinned. “i feel like i followed a shadow.”

“it’s mysterious,” you said flatly.

“it’s suspicious,” she corrected. “feels like i just gave my private account to a tourist who might disappear into the ocean.”

you raised an eyebrow. “isn’t that what you’re doing this week?”

she gasped. hand to chest. “that’s cold.”

you almost smiled. almost. “you’ll survive.”

“i better,” she said. “i just gave my secret account to a stranger with no posts and an unflattering username.”

you shrugged. “you didn’t have to.”

“mm,” she hummed, slow and dramatic. “but i wanted to.”

then her voice lowered. “don’t make me regret it.”

and then she looked up, full eye contact, like she could hear your heart going off in your chest. “that okay?”

“yeah,” you said, but it came out hoarse. “yeah. i won’t tell.”

her smile softened. she typed, handed your phone back, and her username was already followed.

then she didn’t move.

neither did you.

and that was when something in the air changed.

you thought she was about to leave, she even glanced toward the door, like she should—but her feet didn’t follow. instead, she turned back around.

and stepped closer.

your breath caught.

there was barely a handspan between you. her perfume was faint but sweet, like citrus and skin-warmed flowers. your heart thudded stupidly loud in your ears.

“you have this... way of looking at people,” she murmured.

you didn’t know what that meant, but you didn’t ask.

you couldn’t ask. not when she was this close. not when she was tilting her head, eyes flicking down to your mouth for half a second and then back up again.

you opened your mouth to say something—anything—but you didn’t get the chance.

she leaned in.

and kissed your cheek.

but not quickly. not playfully. not the kind you’d brush off with a joke.

no—she pressed her lips there like it meant something.

like it was a secret she couldn’t say out loud yet.

you felt it in your spine. your stomach. your knees.

it was soft. it was slow. it was warm enough to burn through the fabric of your shirt and straight into your bloodstream.

and when she pulled back—barely—her lips ghosted over your skin like she was memorizing it. like maybe she wanted to stay there.

your eyes didn’t open right away.

and when they did, she was smiling.

just a little.

the kind of smile that made the sun look second-best.

“see you around,” she whispered.

then finally—finally—she turned and walked out the door.

and you just stood there.

heart pounding. hand still curled around your phone. breath caught somewhere behind your ribs.

her lipstick light pink, faint, left the softest trace on your cheek.

you didn’t wipe it off.

you weren’t sure you ever could.

your cheek still felt her.

and somewhere in your pocket, your phone buzzed again—new notification. new follower.

shy.shibatozaki accepted your follow request

and suddenly, the room felt like it wasn’t yours anymore.

it was hers.

and you wanted her to come back.

you don’t remember the exact moment your face started heating up for no reason — just that it had something to do with her name lighting up your phone at 11:47 p.m., while the ocean outside your window made that low, steady hush, like even it was trying to hear what she’d say next.

the sheets were tangled around your legs. your hair still damp from the shower. a bead of water slid down your neck, caught in the collar of your shirt. it clung too close at the back. and your chest — it was doing that thing again. not thudding like fear, not fluttering like joy, just… loud. constant. like a knock that wouldn’t stop.

shy.shibatozaki 11:47 p.m. guess what me and miyeon are watching ! i missed you already i loved the coffee you gave ~ !

you didn’t even have to guess. you could already imagine her curled under a fuzzy blanket, face half-glowing in tv light, head leaning into miyeon’s shoulder. something warm stirred in your stomach.

shy.shibatozaki 11:48 p.m. also me and miyeon are wearing our matching pjs 💙🩷 anddd she took the yellow bear headband >:(( not fair right?? :(

a photo came with that one. slightly blurry, but enough to make your chest tighten — sana in blue pajamas, she was wearing her glasses and it was slipping down her nose, hair tied back lazily with a few strands falling over her cheek. miyeon was beside her, grinning while mid jump, wearing a yellow bear headband. it looked like home. she looked like the kind of perfect you didn’t want to blink at in case it vanished.

you bit your pillow and groaned into it.

then you answered. (on some nonchalant shi she aint even know it)

you 11:51 p.m. perhaps queen of tears..? thats the only kdrama i know hahaa...

shy.shibatozaki 11:52 p.m. HEYYY we're not watching qot! HOMETOWN CHA-CHA-CHA!! miyeon said i act like yoon hye jin..? BUT NO >:( anddd they eat so much in this drama :( i luvvv hawaii food but like ugh i miss korean foods :(

you stared at that message longer than necessary. something about it made you sit up. the air had cooled — you hadn’t noticed — but the breeze coming in smelled faintly of rain and seaweed. maybe you were imagining it, but it felt like a different kind of night.

you told yourself she was just being cute. she was always cute. it didn’t mean anything. her cheeks didn’t make your fingers tingle. her texts didn’t sit warm in your pocket. your chest wasn’t rising like tidewater with every buzz.

you were not smiling.

your phone buzzed again.

shy.shibatozaki 11:55 p.m. hellooo did u fall asleep..? earth to tour guide cutie?

you blinked.

cutie???

your legs were moving before your thoughts could catch up. you grabbed your keys. hoodie. slippers. hair still damp. didn’t care. you stepped outside. paused. cursed. ran back in for your wallet. stepped out again.

the streets were quiet — wet pavement glowing gold beneath the streetlights. your footsteps echoed softly. your hoodie clung to your back. a gecko darted across the sidewalk near your foot, but you didn’t flinch. your head was somewhere else. somewhere with blue pajamas and sleepy eyes that missed korean foods at midnight.

you passed the surfboard rental hut. slowed. stopped.

on impulse — stupid, reckless, flirt-level impulse — you pulled out your phone and sent a photo. an old one. from earlier this week. waves curling over the shore, a bright sky behind it, and someone surfing in the distance.

you 12:04 a.m hey, isn't chief hong like a surfer.. or something..? maybe i can help you learn how to surf yk? :) i'm good at riding the waves.

the second it sent, regret bloomed full-bodied through your spine.

wow, you regretted even saying that.

holy fuck should i delete that? was i too straight forward? was that too much? was that real? should you delete it? why did you say that???

shy.shibatozaki 12:05 a.m. WHATT YOU SURF!! AHHH YES maybe you can teach me when i do come back :) ill rate your flips maybeee from you arms~

you almost tripped over the curb outside the store.

you couldn’t even laugh properly. just gripped your phone, heart thrashing, and slipped inside the brightly lit corner mart like it might hold answers on a shelf.

you needed to focus. get the food. get out. do not spontaneously combust in the ramen aisle.

you got ramen. rice cakes. gim. sesame oil. carrots. pickled radish. banana milk. a new blender blade. more gochujang than one person should legally own. frozen mangoes. why. who knew.

you stared at the shopping cart.

“what the hell am i doing,” you whispered.

you don’t even like smoothies.

but your hand still reaches for strawberries.

back home, you dropped the bags on the counter, half-shivering from the night air, half-sweating from the chaos inside your chest. turned on a recipe video. leaned too close. muted it again. swore when the rice stuck to your hands. tried again. heartbeat climbing steadily, unreasonably, like it knew where this night was heading before you did.

you were mid-slice — carrots wet and bright on the cutting board — when your phone buzzed again.

       incoming video call:

       shy.shibatozaki

you wiped your hands on a dish towel and answered without thinking.

“yaaaah,” she whined, face filling your screen, voice low like she was trying not to wake miyeon. “where did you go? you disappeared.”

you pressed your lips together,

“just stepped out.”

“you didn’t reply to my text for like... nine minutes.”

“how do you know the exact time?”

“because i counted,” she whined. “you’re so mean...”

“just… had something to do,” you said, camera aimed slightly too high on purpose. the kitchen lights were on behind you.

“mmm,” she narrowed her eyes. “are you cooking?”

you tried not to look guilty. “why would i be cooking at midnight?”

“are you at your kitchen..?” she whispered.

you blinked, heart thudding. “...you’re seeing things.”

she pouted. “liar.”

you turned away, pretending to check something on the stove — when really, you were just trying to hide the dumb smile spreading across your face.

on her side, sana yawned. the blanket now tucked under her chin. her glasses had started slipping again, and she didn’t fix them.

“you’re not telling me what you’re making…” she mumbled, eyes blinking slower now.

“nothing important.”

“hmm.” she let that go, surprisingly. “oh, by the way… we might start preparing for our next comeback soon. nothing confirmed but i’m kinda excited. i want a sexy theme” she grinned sleepily. “if we get one… i’ll tell you first.”

you didn’t know what to say to that. you didn’t move. just kept spreading rice over gim like your hands had never learned to do anything else. your chest felt… weird. tight. like standing thigh-deep in surf, waiting for a wave you couldn’t see coming.

“and maybe,” she mumbled, almost to herself, “i’ll bring you something from seoul... like a signed photocard... or a bag of korean snacks... or me.”

or me.

your breath stalled.

she didn’t even seem to notice. her eyes fluttered shut, cheek pressed into her pillow. hair all tangled. lips parted slightly, like she didn’t even realize what she said.

your ears were on fire.

you didn’t say a word. didn’t dare to breathe too loud. just finished wrapping the kimbap roll with your heart pounding like it had picked up the rhythm of every wave slapping the shore that night.

not falling. you were not falling. this was just... curiosity. friendliness. a professional obligation to keep her happy and full.

you smiled. not because of what she said — but because she didn’t finish the sentence. her breathing slowed, soft. the blanket shifted a little as she turned, and her hand stayed on her cheek, curled like she was dreaming something warm.

the strawberry not yet a smoothie. the wind outside whispered her name again — like it was in on the joke. like the waves knew exactly how hard your heart was crashing tonight.

you didn’t wake her.

then you sat down on the floor.

looked at her again.

you weren’t falling. you didn’t do this. you didn’t blush. you didn’t cook for people who flirted with you at midnight. you didn’t send surfing thirst traps.

you weren’t insane.

some mornings feel scripted.

not by the sky or the sun or even the alarm — but by something quieter. something like fate, or a dream that refuses to end.

this is one of those mornings.

the first thing sana sees is the curve of light spilling through the curtains. the second is the soft hum of her phone, still propped under the pillow like a secret. the screen glows faintly at the foot of the bed. not loud, not obvious. just there. waiting.

“...miyeon?” she whispers, still half-asleep.

“present,” miyeon chirps from across the room, already in glam-mode with one eyebrow lined and her pink pajama slightly askew. she’s crouched near the mirror, filming, one hand holding a blush brush like a dagger.

“why is the call still—”

“shhh. don’t ruin it. we’re in the middle of a cinematic masterpiece.”

sana squints. the image is angled badly, tilted like someone dropped the phone and never bothered fixing it. the camera lens is fogged a little from the a/c, edges soft and cloudy like a dream.

but it’s enough.

you’re not speaking. not even looking. just... there. folding a shirt. your hair’s still damp from the shower. your white tank top clings slightly at the back, and the loose white trousers hang soft and low at your hips as you lean over to straighten something on the floor.

the light hits the back of your neck like it missed you all night.

like you were born inside a slow-motion montage. like the universe forgot to warn her that people like you exist in real life.

sana forgets to breathe.

“...why do they look like that,” she mumbles, blinking hard.

“right??” miyeon says, spinning the phone to record sana now. “like excuse me, who gave them the right to clean so attractively.”

“do they even know we’re still on the call…”

“and they’ve been like that for an hour. just tidying things in slow motion like they’re filming a skincare ad for lonely people.”

sana groans and hides her face in the pillow. “don’t say that…”

“you’re blushing.”

“i’m not.”

“you’re in love.”

“shut up—”

“you’re so in love it’s embarrassing,” miyeon says gleefully, zooming in on her. “look at how they're dressed up, they clean up good.”

sana peeks from behind the bear. “…they’re just… really clean.”

“do you think they're an ISFJ? they’re that quiet, competent character who always walks their lover home and then disappears without asking for anything.”

“miyeonnn—”

“sana,” miyeon sing-songs. “do you—wait for it—do you likey~?”

sana groans, kicking at the blanket harder. “you’re the worst.”

but then you look up.

no rush. no shock. just a glance at your screen like you already knew it was still on. your gaze flickers, soft and unhurried, before your lips curl into the gentlest, sleep-warm smile.

your hand lifts in a lazy wave.

“morning,” you say, voice low and quiet. “hope you two slept well. we’ve got the atv tour today, so… time to get up.”

sana short-circuits.

miyeon howls with laughter in the corner.

“you didn’t hang up…?” sana manages, barely above a whisper.

you scratch the side of your neck. “why would i?”

you sound so casual. too casual. like you didn’t just make her heart skip two entire steps.

but then — you pause.

just enough to tilt your head a little, like something’s still on your mind.

“also,” you say, almost as an afterthought. “you didn’t finish what you were gonna say last night.”

sana freezes.

miyeon drops her brush on the table in slow motion.

“so,” you add, still smiling, “i didn’t want to hang up.”

and that’s it. no dramatic music. no fireworks.

sana dies.

just the most quietly romantic thing anyone’s ever said to her.

sana curls deeper into the blanket, face burning so red it could power a city.

miyeon is filming everything.

“okay, bye now,” you say, eyes already scanning off-screen. “gotta get the keys from keoni.”

click.

call ended.

the screen goes black.

sana stares at the screen like she’s been hit by a truck made of flower petals and longing.

her fingers twitch.

her soul leaves her body and ascends into the soft sheets of the afterlife.

then she lets out a squeak so high-pitched it sounds like a dolphin being emotionally overwhelmed.

“THEY SAID THAT???” she cries into the pillow.

“they remembered i didn’t finish what i was saying,” she whispers into the pillow, half-horrified, half-melting. “and they said it in their morning voice…”

“they didn’t want to end the call,” miyeon repeats, gleefully filming the aftermath. “do you understand what level of romance that is? that’s a novel ending. that’s page 374 of a fanfic. that’s—”

“i can’t go on the atv,” sana groans, burying herself completely now. “i’ll crash it just looking at them.. i’ll never recover.”

miyeon just smiles like the devil herself.

“you’ve already crashed,” she says, scrolling back to rewatch the smile. “and you’re so not getting up.”

sana bolts upright. “you recorded it, right..?”

“duh.” miyeon holds the phone aloft like it’s a national treasure. “my phone was already rolling since you were asleep. i got the back muscles, the tank top, the morning voice, the part where they said they didn’t want to hang up because you weren’t done talking—”

sana lunges. “let me see it!!”

“oHOH,” miyeon squeals, twisting away like a gremlin, phone clutched to her chest. “you want the video?? you need the video???”

“miyeon, please.”

“say the magic words~”

“i will literally cry,” sana threatens, face already turning red as she tries to grab the phone again. “give me the—miyeon, i’m serious!”

“you’re serious?? like serious-serious??” miyeon’s eyes sparkle like she’s hosting a game show. “on a scale from one to ‘i’m-down-bad,’ how serious are we talking?”

“i won't buy you those tanned friends”

“no you won’t,” miyeon says smugly. “you’re too in love to be mean.”

sana lets out a wail and collapses into the blanket, face burning. “miyeoooonnn…”

“oh my gosh, she folded.” miyeon falls dramatically beside her. “someone’s in loooove.”

sana peeks from the covers. “just let me watch it once.”

miyeon hums. “what’s the magic word?”

sana glares. “airdrop it.”

miyeon gasps, delighted. “OH. OH??? she said airdrop!! she’s desperate. this is beautiful. hold on—lemme queue it up for full emotional impact—rewinding to the part where they scratch their neck, ready—aaaand play.”

sana watches.

watches the exact moment your voice, all soft and quiet and unbearably gentle, says it again.

“you didn’t finish what you were gonna say.”

“so i didn’t want to hang up.”

she actually squeaks. like a mouse. or a broken record. or a seventeen-year-old girl watching her first romance drama in 4k.

and then she slaps miyeon’s arm, hard.

“DON’T PLAY IT AGAIN—”

“TOO LATE, I’M LOOPING IT.”

“STOPPP—”

“it’s okay,” miyeon sighs, falling back onto the bed beside her. “if they looked at me like that and said that in that voice, i’d record it in 4k and build a shrine.”

sana turns slowly. “you mean you did record it in 4k.”

the atvs are parked in a half-circle near the trail’s edge, their engines quiet but still radiating heat. someone’s checking the tires, someone else is untangling cords for the mounted cameras. the air smells like red dirt and sun-dried leaves.

you’re wiping down the atv with a rag that was clean twenty minutes ago. the handlebar grips are dusted over, already sweating beneath your hands. your white tank clings a little from the humidity, loose at the edges but damp at the spine. the same white cotton trousers from earlier—creased, stained faintly at the knees—hang low and light at your hips. your black backpack leans forgotten by the tire, half-zipped, a water bottle poking out.

you don’t notice them watching you.

sana notices all of it. unintentionally.

“they’re gonna get dirty again in five minutes,” keoni says loudly from where he’s standing with sana and miyeon, watching you from across the lot.

“they’re too clean to accept that,” miyeon replies, biting back a grin. “look at that form. they’re washing it like it’s a first date.”

keoni raises a brow. “i’m just sayin’. no point polishing a pig.”

“don’t say that,” sana says, elbowing him with a soft smile. “the atvs are cute.”

“the atvs,” keoni mutters. “or them.”

before anyone can respond, you stand and stretch your arm out—then toss the dirty rag in a perfect arc. it lands square on keoni’s chest, leaving a dark smear on his light shirt.

he stares down at it.

you smirk, still flushed from the sun. “guess now you’re the dirty one.”

keoni lifts the rag off like it’s cursed. “you’re lucky i can’t throw this back. you’re wearin’ your best heartbreak outfit today.”

sana feels something in her chest clench slightly—unreasonably—but she laughs anyway. miyeon snorts and fans herself dramatically.

you’re laughing now too, leaning into the side of the atv where eunji—the writer—stands beside you, both of you mid-conversation. she says something that makes you tilt your head back and laugh harder, hand on your hip, face tilted toward her like this is normal. like this is yours.

sana blinks.

college, she remembers suddenly. that throwaway comment from before. the way eunji looked at you.

but then she shakes it off. maybe they just go way back. maybe it’s nothing.

“so,” keoni claps his hands once. “we divin’ these up or what?”

“dibs on riding with the prettiest,” miyeon declares, flinging her hand toward sana dramatically.

“alright,” keoni calls, tossing a small bag into the front of the seat. “miyeon—you’re with sana. we don't need you crashing all of us and possibly driving us off.”

a few of the crew laugh. people start pairing up, bags start getting tossed into backs, helmets passed around, bags pulled tight with lazy grunts. the clearing smells like hot dust and engine oil.

eunji is already slipping her sunglasses on, stepping lightly toward you.

you’re tightening the gear bag on the back of your atv, easy and quiet. eunji sits behind you like it’s second nature. your backpack bumps gently into her knee. she leans forward to say something near your ear and whatever it is—it makes you laugh.

sana watches that laugh.

miyeon watches her watching it.

then: “girl, you're jealous,” miyeon says flatly. “do you want me to swap?”

“i’m not—!” sana starts, then stops. “just—get in.”

miyeon grins, climbing on like it’s her birthday.

keoni throws his arm around one of the cameramen. “you better hold the camera steady..”

sana shifts slightly, adjusting the strap of her vest. she’s watching the way how you lean a little, how comfortable you look with her.

then, like it sneaks up on her:

“…shouldn’t they ride with the cameraman?”

it’s soft. too soft for the question to make sense, really.

keoni frowns. “why?”

“aren’t they the better driver?”

miyeon squints at her. “uhhh… why do you care so much all of a sudden?”

sana blinks fast. “i don’t.”

keoni shrugs. “they’re always the better driver. but eunji calls shotgun.”

sana looks away, pretending to adjust her strap.

miyeon leans into her side.

“someone’s jealous,” she sings quietly.

“shut up,” sana whispers, cheeks warm.

miyeon grins wide. “don't worry i'll try my best to hear what they're talking about!"

sana only looked back with a frown trying to make sense when miyeon was further away than her.

and then the engines start, one after another. the grove fills with sound, dust kicking, laughter overlapping, the hum of sun and wheels and things unsaid.

you don’t look back as the atv peels forward.

but sana looks forward at you.

and for a moment, it feels like she missed something that used to be hers, even if it never really was.

the beach greets you with its quiet curve of white sand, hemmed in by palms and black rock. no signs, no tourists—just the hush of waves and a wide blue that feels untouched.

you pull the atv to a slow stop at the edge, tires crunching lightly over shell bits and drift.

behind you, eunji swings off without a word. the sun hits her hair and shoulders like it’s warming up just for her.

“still can’t believe this place,” she says, shielding her eyes. “it’s like a movie set.”

you nod. toss the keys to your palm, slide your black backpack off one shoulder and keep it close.

eunji adjusts her sunglasses and starts toward the trees. you follow a few steps behind, half listening to the sea—until, loud and fast—

“YAAHHHHHH—” “sana ya we’re literally gonna die—”

a second atv swerves into view, kicking sand as it jolts to a stop just a few feet from yours.

sana is at the wheel—white tie-strap beach top, loose blue pants, hair already tangled from the ride. miyeon’s behind her, windblown and yelling, one hand still holding her phone up, clearly filming the chaos.

except....

now she’s wearing a green baseball cap (idk what kinda cap it is sorry.), the brim low and lopsided over her brow. and a pale blue long-sleeve thrown over her top, sleeves pushed up to her elbows like she borrowed it in a hurry.

you blink. she hadn’t had that on earlier.

your first thought is that someone from staff gave it to her. the sun’s stronger now, and she’d been squinting earlier, rubbing at her eyes when she thought no one was looking.

it makes sense.

still… you wonder if she asked. or if someone just noticed. offered before she had to.

you wonder if she would’ve asked you.

and then immediately hate that thought—because what would you have given her? your tank top?

you glance down. white cotton. thin, barely enough for yourself, let alone her. now your shoulders are out, your neck already warm, and you frown.

stupid. why didn’t you bring a hoodie or something?

why didn’t you even think—

sana beams, squinting. “we made it!!”

miyeon coughs dramatically. “barely.”

you’re already stepping forward, one hand steadying the atv.

sana swings her leg off and stumbles slightly, laughing. her eyes meet yours for just a second—and you offer your hand. she takes it without thinking, and you help her down. a little dust clings to her shoulder, and you glance away.

“was i that scary?” sana asks, brushing sand off her wrist.

“you were focused,” you say.

miyeon hops off next. “she was possessed,” she mutters. “she didn’t blink for three whole minutes. i checked.”

sana frowns. “yah. you were screaming into my ear the whole time.”

“i was saying your name in prayer.”

staff start laughing behind them finally arriving. one of the managers lifts a camera, catching the girls mid-bicker.

“let’s take photos before miyeon sweats off her foundation,” someone calls out.

“TOO LATE,” miyeon yells back, fixing her hair.

sana looks around. “wait… this place is way too pretty. i need to mark our territory.”

she digs a stick out from the sand, starts writing their names in huge curved strokes: sana ♥ miyeon. then reaches into her bag, pulls out a flag printout of a selfie—the two of them in bear headbands, cheeks puffed—and plants it in the sand like a little flag.

“perfect.”

it lasted for 20 seconds.

a wave creeps in, silent and sharp—and then rolls straight over it.

“NOOOO—!!” “sana do something!!”

the names dissolve. the flag topples.

you’re already walking toward it, knee-deep in saltwater in seconds. you crouch without a word, lift the soggy print gently, and hand it off as you walk back.

sana accepts it with both hands.

“…you saved it,” she says quietly, blinking down at the wrinkled photo.

you glance down. then back up. “…i mean. i tried.”

she reaches out like she’s being careful not to scare it. takes it from you with both hands. the photo is soggy. the ink’s a little smeared. one corner is folded.

“…still cute,” she says.

you rub the back of your neck. “it’s limited edition now.”

miyeon pouts. “the beach is jealous of our love.”

keoni steps in finally, waving the group into motion. “alright, girls, let’s go. hours to film a reel. and then we can like go shopping for souvenirs” his tone knowing at how influencers are so predictable

sana turns, still cradling the picture. “we’re taking some together, right?”

miyeon perks up. “of course. we need cute poses. maybe one where i pretend to propose.”

“again?” sana laughs.

“yah. it’s tradition.”

they start toward the rocks, still bickering, still smiling.

you follow at a slower pace—off-cam, quiet, steady.

and when sana glances back once, half over her shoulder, like she’s checking something she didn’t mean to leave behind—

you’re already looking at her.

while someone looks at the both of you.

the sky is soft and orange, like someone brushed it gently with gold and peach. the kind of light that makes everything feel like it matters a little more than it should. palm trees lean gently over the patio. somewhere below, the ocean taps against the rocks like it’s trying to get someone’s attention.

they’d just finished shopping—bags half-full, miyeon dragging her feet and whining about not buying enough of those tanned friends—and now everyone’s gathered at the long dinner table for one last shoot. the cameras are rolling. the mics are clipped. this is the final scene.

the ache is there.

you sit behind the camera setups, off to the side, your black backpack’s looped over one shoulder like always, like something unfinished. you haven't touched a plate. you just focus the frame.

you don’t eat.

you just watch the light fade.

and maybe that’s why you don’t realize you’re moving until you’re already pulling eunji aside—out of frame, around the corner of the beach patio where it’s quiet enough to hear the waves.

behind you, sana’s eyes flick up for a moment — casual. automatic.

she sees you turn the corner with eunji. she doesn’t look away.

“so, sana-ssi,” miyeon says into her mic, “what are you gonna miss the most about hawaii?”

sana hesitates.

her gaze lingers a beat too long at the edge of the patio.

off-camera.

eunji follows without question. “what’s up?” she asks softly.

you unzip your bag. the black one you’ve carried every day of the tour. from inside, you pull out a small tupperware—wrapped in cloth to keep the shape—and a smoothie bottle. it’s no longer cold. the condensation’s long gone. the ice melted hours ago.

“can you give this to her?” you ask, not looking up. “on the drive back. just say it’s from the crew if you want. i just—i don’t want to make it weird.”

eunji stares at the items. "oh.. kimbab?”

you nod. “and a strawberry smoothie.”

“there’s a note. inside the wrap. give it to her on the drive back. please.”

eunji smiles gently, hesitating on something before she then tucks the food into her own tote. “yeah. of course. i got it.”

you nod once. say nothing more.

and you don’t see the way sana looked up just then from her seat—eyes landing on you and eunji in the shadows. she blinks once. then turns back to miyeon.

on the patio, the camera’s still rolling.

“probably this view,” sana says suddenly, answering the earlier question. “or the shrimp.”

miyeon holds back a smile. “not the crew?”

“they’re part of the view,” sana jokes, looking straight ahead. but her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

she doesn’t say what she wanted to say.

not with you just around the corner, not with something she won’t understand tightening in her chest.

she glances toward the ocean.

not you.

the shoot’s over.

it ends in a blur of bowing staff, camera bags thudding shut, thank-yous muffled by tired voices and the low crash of the ocean below. someone’s still scraping plates into a bin. someone else is laughing near the curb. the whole place feels like the backstage of a play that ended five minutes too soon.

you stand by the entryway, tucked between two rusted railings and a low stone planter blooming with yellow hibiscus. your weight shifts slow in your shoes, like the ground isn’t quite yours. your hands stay buried in your pockets. it’s not for warmth. it’s for restraint.

you hear her before you see her. not her voice — not yet — just the soft scuff of her sandals on the pavement. the sound of someone light on their feet, like she’s trying not to disturb the night.

then:

“there you are.”

you turn.

sana’s walking over, hands tucked into her sleeves, eyes already finding yours like she’d been scanning the whole set for them. same soft top. strands of hair stuck to her cheek. her mouth is pinker than it was earlier — maybe from the sun, maybe from the drink miyeon forced her to finish.

and for a second, your heart is stupid enough to think she might run to you.

instead, she walks slowly. calm. unreadable.

“thought you left already,” you say.

“nope,” she replies, easy. “i was looking for you.”

your throat catches around nothing.

“me?”

“mm.” she glances away for a second — then back. “you kinda disappeared after wrap.”

“you noticed?”

she rolls her eyes. “you think i wouldn’t?”

“you were really good today,” you say quickly to avoid an awkward silence. “both of you.”

she blinks. “seriously?”

“yeah. miyeon too. you guys were— i dunno. like a good pair in a romcom..?”

“what if that's what we we're going for?”

“doubt it.”

she grins. a little bashful now.

then you add, “good luck, by the way. with the next comeback.”

“oh.” she tilts her head. “you remember what i said?”

“barely. and miyeon gave me a twice song quiz and uhh i failed...”

sana snorts. “which one did you miss?”

“all of them.”

“wow.”

“i’m a disgrace to my generation.”

she laughs again — and this time, she smooths a crease from your shirt, fingers brushing you so gently it feels like she’s saying goodbye without really saying it.

“hey,” she says. softer now. “thank you. really.”

her eyes flick to your mouth for half a second too long.

you don’t move.

“for what?”

“just… everything. for making this trip feel special. even when the cameras weren’t rolling.”

you swallow.

the words sit too neatly in your chest. they stack themselves like a house you start to believe in.

“same to you,” you say. “you made it easy.”

she glances at you again — not away from you, not past you — at you.

and in that moment, you believe it. you believe she means it.

you believe she’s holding something back, and maybe it’s only distance, maybe it’s only fear — but it’s not indifference.

“i’ll miss you,” she murmurs.

you freeze.

you want to ask if she means it. you want to ask if she’ll text. if this was ever more than just a week of light flirting and pretty lies.

but you smile anyway. not big. just enough. “i’ll keep failing your quizzes from afar.”

“and i’ll be disappointed in you from korea,” she shoots back, but it’s gentle. fond.

she waves once. then again when she’s at the van. you raise your hand, but she’s already turned away.

the door shuts. miyeon says something loud. sana laughs. they drive off.

you wait. just long enough to be sure she’s not coming back. just long enough to be sure that was the end of it.

then you sling your bag over your shoulder. it feels too light, like something’s been taken out of it.

maybe it’s just the part of you that believed you’d get to say more.

you’re halfway to the curb when someone shouts behind you.

“excuse me!”

you turn.

he jogs up, holding a small cloth-wrapped tupperware and a tumbler bottle, slightly fogged over but clearly warm now.

“this was left at the table,” the waiter says. “one of the guests forgot it?”

you stare.

for a second, you don’t move.

you don’t even need to open it.

you know.

the weight of it. the shape. the faint sweet smell leaking through the folds.

then slowly—slowly—you take it. unwrap it. see the handwriting you recognize. your own.

please eat well. you told me you miss this type of food. remember to tell me about your comeback. with all the love i can't say, your guide.

you stare at it.

the kimbab. the smoothie. the whole thing.

your hand curls tighter around the cloth. you feel the glass bottle shift inside. the smoothie’s warm now.

untouched.

you swallow. the ocean sounds louder all of a sudden.

your chest hollows out.

you stare at it for a long time.

not because you don’t understand —

but because you do.

you don’t even think of eunji. she wouldn’t forget something like this, right? not something made with care. not something that mattered to someone else that isn't her.

but sana—

she didn’t forget.

she chose not to bring it.

you rolled the kimbap in silence at 12am, hands shaky from too little sleep. blended the smoothie twice because the first one didn’t taste like you remembered her describing in one of those tv shows she was in. added an extra note. rewrote it when it felt too much.

you imagined her holding it on the ride to the airport. sipping it on the plane. maybe thinking of you, just a little.

you imagined it meant something.

but it didn’t.

not enough. not to her.

and then, without thinking, you turn and walk—past the entrance, down the small stone path that leads to the trash bins. you lift the lid. and drop the whole bundle in.

no hesitation.

just silence.

you let the lid fall.

and walk away with nothing but silence.

not even the lie that she cared.

two weeks.

that’s how long it’s been since hawaii.

since the wind tasted like salt and sunscreen, since your laugh still echoed when she closed her eyes. since miyeon dragged her half-asleep through customs, arms full of souvenirs they didn’t need but bought anyway, because it reminded her of you — stupid stuff, like the peach keyring you touched once at a market stall, the tiny charm shaped like a surfboard.

since sana sat by the plane window for six silent hours, headphones in but music off, the screen in front of her playing some romcom she didn’t watch. just static. just motion. just the city shrinking behind clouds, and the empty weight of a phone that hadn’t buzzed once.

you didn’t text.

and maybe she should’ve known then.

maybe she should’ve let go the moment the message bubble stayed empty. maybe she shouldn’t have memorized the time difference, shouldn’t have set silent alarms for 2:17 a.m., just in case you replied while she was sleeping — as if knowing the exact minute you might’ve sent something could stop her from missing it.

but she couldn’t help it. she was still waiting.

she took more photos than usual. not for instagram. not for the fancafe. just dumb little things — her coffee order, the new hoodie she thought you’d like, the earrings miyeon said made her look “way too pretty to be single.”

she saved them all.

none of them ever got sent.

it’s late now. practice ran long. her hoodie’s damp at the collar, some strands falling loose.

but her fingers are restless.

so she goes live.

the car is dark. quiet. the windows blur with streetlights, smearing gold across her cheekbones, and the screen lights her face just enough to catch the pink gloss still clinging to her bottom lip. her voice is a little hoarse, like it’s been tucked away too long.

“hi~” she says, drawing it out, soft and breathy. “did you miss me?”

hearts explode. comments fire in from all corners of the world.

she laughs, ducking her head, rubbing at her eye with the back of her wrist. “i look like a mess today, huh? no filters. bare face. very exclusive.”

“you look beautiful no matter what!!” someone writes.

she gasps, presses a hand to her heart. “don’t lie to me like this! not when i’m already so weak.”

fans fill the chat with crying emojis and heart showers.

“we had practice all day today,” she says, tucking a flyaway hair behind her ear. “comeback soon, right? do you guys wanna know the concept?”

they scream in the comments. she hums thoughtfully, as if considering.

“hmm~ what if i give you a hint? just a little one,” she says, holding her fingers close together. “okay. one word only. spicy.”

the chaos that follows makes her giggle for real. someone spams pepper emojis. someone else types “IS IT A DANCE SONG IS IT SEDUCTIVE??”

“yah! it’s a secret!” she scolds, then immediately leans closer to whisper, “...yes.”

she leans back with a wink. the mood is light. good. silly in the way she knows how to be.

but her thumb keeps slipping.

to the viewer list. to the names she doesn’t mean to look for.

and then —

@brewing.beach joined.

her breath catches. only for a second. just long enough that something inside her forgets to move.

you’re here.

you’re watching.

your name — your screenname — floats at the top of the list like a bruise she doesn’t want to press, but can’t stop touching.

she swallows. hard. finds her place in the conversation again.

“also,” she says quickly, “nayeon unnie tripped over her own shoe during cooldown. i wish i could show you, it was like… you know those baby deer videos?” she holds up both hands and wiggles them like flailing limbs. “legs everywhere.”

laughs fill the screen. someone tells her she should post the clip. another fan says you’re cuter than a deer though.

she smiles. lets it land somewhere softer. but the glow doesn’t stay long.

someone else asks about hawaii.

“miyeon said you had the idea for the vlog!! what was your favorite part?”

her breath sticks in her throat for a second too long.

but she makes her voice gentle. normal.

“filming was fun,” she says. “but… honestly, i was kind of out of it by the end.”

a beat. the comments fly too fast to catch.

“i think i got sunburned on like… just one ear?” she touches her earlobe. “very fashionable. very cool. right, once?”

they answer with chaos again. sunscreen jokes. marriage proposals. someone starts a fake petition called justice for sana’s ears.

she laughs, but it’s thinner now. quiet at the edges.

you’re still watching.

and still not saying anything.

you never did.

you didn’t say anything the day she left. not when she waved from the van. not when she said she’d miss you, even though her voice cracked on it. you didn’t reply to her message, didn’t text after the plane landed.

you didn’t even react to the gift.

she had made sure of it — she’d written her number on the back of a photocard, one she picked herself from a pack of outtakes. she wasn’t even looking at the camera in it, just smiling off to the side. the same way she always looked at you when she thought no one would notice.

she slipped it into the box. sealed it herself.

and asked eunji — sweet, harmless, helpful eunji — to give it to you while she was shooting with miyeon.

“just slide it to them when you say goodbye,” she whispered. “please?”

eunji smiled. said of course. said sure. said leave it to me.

but you never reached out.

and sana… believed you had gotten it.

for two weeks, she believed it.

in the back of this car, the memory hits her differently.

eunji's laugh too sharp.

her tone too playful.

how she never looked sana in the eye when she came back.

sana’s heart aches in the shape of something slow and sickening.

“anyway… i’m home now~” she says softly, even though the car is still moving. “i’ll rest. i’ll… i’ll message you guys next time, okay?”

lie.

the fans fill the chat with goodnights. hearts. we love you!!

she ends the live.

the silence after is unbearable.

her driver hums low under his breath. the city leans past the window in smears of yellow and gray. she watches her own reflection. the curve of her mouth. the shine of her eyes.

she unlocks her phone.

scrolls to your name.

still empty.

still no finally got your number.

still no thank you.

no i miss you.

she opens the messages anyway. stares at the blank thread. waits for it to become something else.

but it doesn’t.

it stays quiet.

the same way you did.

her eyes burn first.

but she doesn’t blink. not yet. just breathes.

once. twice.

then —

quietly. gently.

like it doesn’t even belong to her — like the heartache is someone else’s, and she’s just borrowing it for a while — the tears start to fall.

one slips past her cheek. then another. then they don’t stop.

they hit the fabric of her hoodie without a sound. soak into the sleeves she tugs up to her mouth. the kind of crying you do when you're trying not to. the kind that hurts more because no one sees it but you.

she curls tighter in the seat. presses her phone to her chest. wishes she never wrote her number. wishes she didn’t check. wishes she knew how to stop hoping.

the city moves on.

and sana stays behind, muffling her sobs into the hoodie she wore for you.

forgotten.

kino's note — took 2 weeks for this ahh writing.. i miss my beautiful girl so i thought to break my heart with this :D idk abt a part 2 but ill try my best.

[zylokv]

LOST IN TRANSLATION — J-LINE TWICE

" that whole ‘i wanna touch’ thing… we’ll save it for next time. "

synopsis — it’s 3 a.m. in los angeles when you step into an elevator with momo, sana, and mina, unaware that they’re members of TWICE. while they joke about your height and looks in japanese, you stay quiet, until..

notice — i don’t speak japanese, so any japanese phrases used in this story were translated using reverso/google translate and might not be 100% accurate. please forgive any mistakes—and feel free to gently correct me if needed! this is all just for fun and vibes. pairing — sana x mina x hirai momo x reader. disclaimer ! this is a work of fiction. while TWICE is a real k-pop group, the characters in this story are fictionalized based on their public personalities. i do not own TWICE—i only own the story and original character(s). this was written purely for entertainment purposes, with respect to all individuals involved. genre — oneshot.

the streets of downtown los angeles looked like they were holding their breath.

3:07am.

los angeles at 3am was a different kind of quiet. not empty—but softened, like the whole city had exhaled and gone still. the distant hum of traffic was a low pulse in the background, and the air, warm from a lingering spring day, still carried the faint scent of car exhaust and jacaranda trees in bloom.

you were already regretting your decision to hit the gym this late, but there was no turning back now. the oversized hoodie hung loose over your frame, the sleeves hiding half your hands. your gym bag thumped lightly against your hip with each step. you had your headphones on— no music yet, just the silence that came before the rnb playlist started.

insomnia had won again. and when sleep didn’t come, movement did. the gym in the basement was open twenty-four hours, and the thought of hitting the bag for an hour seemed better than staring at your ceiling for the third night in a row.

you hit the button for the elevator with your knuckle, yawning into your sleeve.

ding.

the moment the doors slid open, your brain short-circuited.

three girls were already inside, laughing. loud. barely holding onto their food as they turned around mid-conversation. the scent hit you first—soy sauce, grilled meat, something fried and sweet, maybe donuts. it was like walking into a late-night food truck festival.

they looked up in unison.

one had dumplings in her mouth. literally. mid-bite. the second had strawberry milk in one hand and a chicken sandwich in the other, her expression stuck somewhere between surprise and delight. and the third—hood up, sleeves over her palms—blinked slowly like she hadn’t quite caught up yet.

you stepped in, the doors closing behind you.

the silence was immediate.

momo swallowed first.

“背の高い”

(tall.)

you heard it. clear as day. but you didn’t react. just lifted your water bottle to your lips, watching the elevator numbers tick down.

sana leaned in toward momo, stage-whispering like she wasn’t absolutely audible. " まって、LAの人ってこんなにストイックなの？”

(wait, are people in LA really this intense?)

“たぶん。” momo smirked, eyes dragging from your shoes to your hoodie to your face. “でも、めっちゃタイプ。”

(maybe. but they’re totally my type.)

you kept your face neutral, eyes forward. the air smelled like sesame oil and seaweed snacks and something caramelized. there was a crunch—sana tearing into what looked like a fried chicken sandwich with absolutely no shame. mina stood closest to the elevator buttons. she glanced at you, then down at the floor. then back at you.

“アメリカ人ってああいう感じかな。” she mumbled, half to herself. (i guess americans look like that.)

“ああいう感じってどんな感じ？” momo asked, nudging her.

(what do you mean ‘like that’?)

“なんか…かっこよくて静か。” mina replied.

(like… cool and quiet.)

“それもあなたの好みですか？” sana teased, nudging mina’s arm.

(is that your preference too?)

“彼らはあなたの言うことを聞くことができません、さあ。” sana elbowed her, snorting. “ここアメリカよ？絶対わかんない。”

(they can’t hear you, come on. we’re in america. there’s no way they understand.)

mina turned pink.

you bit your lip, just barely hiding the smile tugging at your mouth.they didn’t know. they really thought you couldn’t understand a word.

“わたしがタイプって言ったのに。” momo muttered, fake-offended.

(i already called dibs.)

“じゃあジャンケンで決めよう。” sana offered, mouth full.

(rock paper scissors for it, then.)

“餃子があるから無理。”

(i’m holding dumplings, i can’t.)

you finally moved—shifted your gym bag onto your other shoulder. the elevator made a soft ding. one more floor.

the scent of sesame oil and fried chicken filled your nose. momo’s shoulder brushed yours as the elevator moved. her arm stayed close. too close. you could feel the warmth through your hoodie.

“彼らの腕を見てください” momo whispered to sana, thinking she was being slick.

(listen, seriously look at their arms.)

sana giggled. “触りたい”

(i wanna touch.)

“私たちはそうすべきでしょうか？” momo asked, completely unserious but somehow entirely serious.

(should we?)

then your phone rang.

you picked it up without a word, answered with the calmest voice you could muster.

“兄さん、今ジムに行くの。”

(brother, i’m going to the gym now.)

dead silence.

it was instant. you didn’t even have to look to know their eyes were huge. but you did. you turned your head just enough to see them in the mirrored elevator wall—wide eyes, open mouths, and a dumpling midair in momo’s chopsticks.

you continued, casually. “エレベーターの中で面白いことを聞いたばかりだ ちょっと面白い”

(just heard some interesting stuff in the elevator. kinda funny.)

a strangled noise came from behind you.

“日本語…？” mina blinked.

(japanese..?)

“彼らは完璧にそれを話します..” sana whispered, scandalized and thrilled.

(they speak it perfectly..)

you hang up the slight sound evident. you turn your head slightly.

sana was slack-jawed, strawberry milk and chicken sandwich forgotten. momo was wide-eyed, mid-bite again. mina looked like she wanted to melt into the floor.

you gave them a slow smile—lazy, just a little smug. “ありがと。ちなみに、私はそれらの賛辞を早く聞きました。”

(thanks. i heard those compliments earlier, by the way.)

“やっば…” sana whispered, covering her face.

(oh no...) mina made a sound that might’ve been a laugh. or a squeak. maybe both. also looked like she wanted to disappear into her hoodie forever.

you took a step toward the door. paused. let the silence simmer. “君たち3人でゲームを決めよう。” you said, smiling. “誰が勝っても私は地下室にいるよ。”

(you three will decide who win. whoever wins ill be in the gym basement.)

ding.

you stepped out as the doors slid open, tossing a glance over your shoulder.

“「触りたい」ってことは…次回に取っておきましょう。”

(that whole ‘i wanna touch’ thing… we’ll save it for next time.)

the last thing you heard before the elevator doors closed?

“なぜ彼らはあなたのタイプだと大声で言ったのですか!？”

(why did you say out loud that they were your type!?)

"サナ、あの人に触れたいって言ったでしょ!"

(sana, you literally said you wanted to touch them!)

“やめて…” (please stop...) — mina.

kino's note — your sleep deprived writer is back! (sort of) missed my pretty girls and i got this inspo while out on a run at 6am

[zylokv]

FALLING LIKE SNOW, RETURNING LIKE WAVES, ALWAYS BACK TO YOU. — MINATOZAKI SANA

❝ and now you know why you never texted her back. ❞

synopsis — the air still feels colder, it's been three years already. but, what happens when you come to the place where she is? this time it's snowfall and not the waves, but, you still fall. notice — angst with a happy ending. unrequited love, miscommunication, implied sabotage, idolxnon-idol, written with realism, metaphors, and a slow and painful unravelling love story. pairing — minatozaki sana x reader ! disclaimer ! this is a work of fiction created purely for entertainment purposes. all events are fictional. while this story may feature public figures (e.g., sana from twice), it is not meant to reflect their real thoughts, actions, or relationships. please remember: nothing depicted in this story actually happened. PART 1!

there weren’t any waves tonight.

no crashing surf. no salt in the air. just snow—falling quiet and slow, melting where it touched the balcony railing. the sky above was a pale smear of gray, the city below wrapped in stillness. it wasn’t warm here. not even close.

you wrapped your hands around the mug eunji gave you and didn’t say much. the heat from the tea barely reached your fingers.

eunji stood beside you in her thick knit sweater, elbows tucked on the ledge, her breath fogging into the cold. “it’s weird, right?” she said softly. “i always forget how quiet it gets when it snows.”

you nodded once, eyes fixed on the empty street below.

no gulls. no sandals on pavement. no haze of summer climbing up your arms. just winter settling deep into your coat. and you realized

you missed the waves.

“it’s not like back then,” eunji said, almost smiling. “but… welcome back, anyway.”

you glanced over, finally. she was gazing at you with that look she always used to give you after class, like you were still eighteen and she’d never really let go of that version of you. the one who used to skip lectures to take her to the beach. the one who waited on the porch for someone else, but still smiled when it was her.

you nodded again. “thanks.”

she watched your face for a second longer before looking down at the city—sprawled wide and glittering beneath the snow.

seoul.

you hadn’t planned to come back. not really. it just… happened. a break. a reset. just two weeks, you told yourself. just something different. just long enough to forget the shape of her name when you whispered it to the sea.

but the waves weren’t here.

just snow.

and eunji, still beside you.

----

you were sitting on the guest bed half-dressed, half-scrolling through your phone, when something slipped out from between your clothes. a photo. bent edges, too-bright colors, definitely planted by keoni.

you stared at it for a second. yeah. that trip. the one before everything cracked open. before she left. before you stopped waiting by the ocean and started pretending you were fine.

a knock came at the door. gentle. careful.

“hey,” eunji called, voice muffled. “you wanna eat out tonight? there’s a place i used to love. not too far.”

you set the photo down on the pillow, face down. “sure,” you said, standing slowly. “let me grab my coat.”

by the time you stepped outside, seoul had shifted. it was always moving, never still—lanterns glowing over storefronts, snow clinging to the curbs, steam rising from food carts like smoke from a dream.

eunji took you somewhere small and tucked between older buildings. warm inside. smelled like chili paste and grilled meat and soup still bubbling in clay pots. you sat across from her, half-listening, half-scrolling. it was comfortable.

then the noise hit—laughter too loud from a table near the back. high-pitched. bubbly. a girl’s voice calling out something in a dialect you didn’t catch.

you blinked. “sorry, i need to use the bathroom real quick.”

you made your way past the hostess stand, turned a corner too quick, and bumped into someone going the opposite way. solid hit. shoulder to shoulder.

“sorry,” you said quickly, barely looking up and just leaving not having time because if you looked more you'd probably piss yourself infront of them. “my bad—sorry.”

outside, sana stood still for a breath. her brows drawn together, her hand still slightly raised like she meant to stop you.

“…weird,” she murmured while returning to their table.

“what is?” jihyo asked as sana sat back down.

sana tilted her head, brushing her hair from her cheek. “i think i just ran into someone i used to know.”

“you say that in every city,” nayeon said, rolling her eyes. “maybe it’s just your soul recognizing other famous souls.”

“no,” sana said, quieter. “this one felt… familiar.”

jihyo gave her a long look, but sana just shook her head, waving it off. “nothing. i’m fine. are we ready to go?”

they stood, coats in hand, talk already shifting to something else. but sana glanced once more toward the hallway before following them out.

you came back to your table a few minutes later. the noise had died down. just quiet chatter and plates being cleared. eunji poured you tea like nothing had happened.

you smiled faintly, glancing out the window. the snow was still falling. soft. unbothered. beautiful.

you didn’t know why your chest felt tight.

but you smiled anyway.

-----

you should’ve said no.

you were already halfway to the studio when it hit — the feeling you’d been ignoring all morning. that slow, creeping dread in your chest that had nothing to do with traffic and everything to do with how easily you’d said sure, i’ll come help. you thought it was just a favor. you thought eunji needed an extra hand. you thought she’d meant it the way old friends mean it — practical, casual.

the studio smelled like damp wires and instant coffee. someone’s leftover tteokbokki still clung to the air, sharp and sweet and cloying. you lingered near the door, arms folded, head ducked low. just another helping hand, no name, no label. someone asked you to move lighting equipment. another passed you cables. no one knew who you were, right?

you leaned against a wall, pretending not to exist. sleeves rolled up, a box of cables still in your hands because someone asked and you didn’t know how to say no. you weren’t sure how long you’d been standing there, but the knot in your throat had been present since the moment someone said, “eunji’s partner’s here!” and no one corrected them.

you caught her smirk from across the room. just for a second — the way her lip twitched up and then down again, feigned annoyance splashed with something else. something like satisfaction. she raised a brow as if to say, play along, and you did. stupidly. like you always did.

you didn’t even have time to respond before you felt it. arms wrapped tight around your middle. a full hug. not brief, not subtle. not a greeting, not exactly.

you froze. eunji pulled back and laughed against your shoulder like it was an old joke only you two knew. “what? no hug back?”

you smiled. thin. held the tension in your arms. and when she turned to yell something over her shoulder, you slipped your jacket off and folded it in your hands like it was nothing. like the fabric hadn’t just absorbed her perfume.

you didn’t want to smell like her.

“wah, i can see why eunji liked you..” someone said, walking by with a garment bag slung over one shoulder. they gave you a toe-to-head look.

you nodded once. short, tight smile. no words. too scared to embarrass her. too tired to lie. too hopeful that maybe — maybe this didn’t mean anything. eunji didn’t stop the others either. just rolled her eyes, not harshly — more like letting them have their fun. she even laughed when one stylist asked if you were picking her up for a date or just doing free labor out of love.

you wiped your palms on your jeans when no one was looking.

you drove with one hand on the wheel and the other digging faint half-moons into your thigh. the car heater was on low. your jacket sat balled up in the backseat.

hyeri flopped into the back like a sunbeam given legs. “thank you for the ride!” she beamed, fastened her seatbelt with a little grunt, then poked her head between the seats like a curious puppy. “eunji said her friend was coming but i didn’t know you were so cute.”

you blinked. eunji snorted.

“so, how long have you two been together?” hyeri chirped.

your throat dried up. “since college,” you said, quietly. meant since we met. meant just friends. meant not like that.

eunji leaned back, arms crossed, sunglasses on indoors like she was famous. “mm,” she said, clearly enjoying herself.

“that’s so cute,” hyeri squealed. “like, campus sweethearts? ugh, goals.”

you didn’t reply. just kept your eyes on the road, white lines passing like skipped heartbeats. eunji said nothing else. didn’t correct her. didn’t clarify. just sat there, smug in the seat beside you. when you dropped hyeri off, she waved at both of you like you were a matching pair.

eunji leaned her head back, lips curled, not saying anything. and that silence stretched — long and thick — all the way through traffic, through the music humming soft from the radio.

until finally, you said it. “you weren’t gonna tell them they were wrong?”

eunji scoffed lightly, not looking at you. “you’re the one who said since college.”

“i meant—” your voice cracked. you swallowed it down. “i didn’t mean it like that.”

“then why didn’t you correct her?”

you didn’t answer.

“exactly.”

the rest of the drive was quiet. uncomfortable. your hands gripped the steering wheel too tight. at a red light, you said softly, “i don’t want this. i don’t want to be part of some fake dating rumor.”

“it’s not a rumor,” eunji replied, suddenly cold. “it’s a joke.”

“it’s not funny to me.”

her jaw clenched. she didn’t look at you. “then don’t come next time.”

you blinked. hurt bloomed sharp in your chest. “…sorry,” you muttered.

you bit the inside of your cheek and didn’t say the rest. she was right — you could’ve said something.

meanwhile, back at the studio, the staff were in stitches. sana twirled her drink in one hand, watching the last of the team clean up. laughter still rang from the wardrobe area, one of her members helping and thanking the staff.

“where’s eunji noona?” she asked, light but curious. “and hyeri?”

“her partner picked her up,” someone grinned. “the quiet one? came by to help earlier. kinda cute. real domestic.”

“partner?” nayeon turned. “finally?” even jihyo was laughing now, muttering “about time” as she packed up her water bottle. nayeon made a teasing noise. momo pretended to swoon.

sana smiled with them — wide, amused — but her fingers tapped her cup slowly, rhythm offbeat. “partner, huh?” she repeated. voice soft. a little too soft. “since when?”

“we don’t really know,” someone said. “they looked like they weren’t from here… tan, brownish hair…”

“mm,” sana said, the smile staying but not quite reaching her eyes. “that’s sweet.” she turned back toward the room, slow and thoughtful, eyes a little distant.

supportive. curious. but something tugged behind her ribs. something that didn’t sit right.

-----

the snow doesn't fall like back home. in hawaii, it rains sideways—warm, impatient, sudden. it crashes against the windows with sound. but here, in seoul, the cold is quiet. it sneaks in through your sleeves, clings to your lashes, and whispers in your breath.

you hadn't planned to come this early, but guilt is a heavy thing to carry in silence. you didn’t know why you’d cooked so much. well. maybe you did. maybe you knew exactly why your hands had reached for the pot before you were even fully awake.

you shift the lunch bag in your hands, the weight of kimbap, steaming soup sealed tightly, and lomi salmon still warm under layers of foil. one last thing: a note tucked between the containers, folded awkwardly like you never learned how to apologize out loud.

“sorry for yesterday. hope today’s better.”

you thought about leaving it at the desk. slipping it quietly to a staff member and walking off before anyone asked who it was from. but the bag was warm against your palms. and something about the sky made it hard to leave things half-finished today.

you don’t do half-things anymore. not after that night when you stood with your phone in your hand, your chest caving in, and no one answered.

your boots squeak a little against the polished floors. you glance around. "hey," you ask one of the women near the monitors, "sorry, do you know where i can find eunji?"

she tilts her head. “oh, you’re her—” before she can finish, another voice cuts in. "she’s in the break room, far end." you turn, about to thank the new voice—but the woman freezes slightly, mid-step. dressed casually, no heavy makeup, and still looks like she stepped out of a screen. then someone from behind calls, "jeongyeon! we need you at the monitor again."

you don’t wait to hear the rest.

a half-step of recognition, and a full-body cringe. you force a tight smile, nod quickly, muttering thanks before walking off, fists tightening in your hoodie pocket.

you head to the break room. open the door and—

"ah!" one of the younger staff claps her hands. "eunji-ssi, your partner’s here!" you freeze. but eunji just laughs, startled, maybe a bit flustered. “stop it,” she says with a half-smile. you try to smile, though your hoodie feels too warm now under the weight of everyone’s gaze.

a few staff members were sipping hot drinks, still rubbing sleep from their eyes. and yet—every glance tilted toward you.

eunji rises, brushing past them and meets you near the counter. “you didn’t have to come yourself,” she says softly, eyes flicking to your damp hoodie.

“you’re freezing,” she mutters, stepping closer, brushing snow from your hood. the movement is brief. careful. almost affectionate.

you clear your throat. “i uh… made you food.” her eyes soften. “oh. like… food food?” “kimbap. soup. some stuff from home.” you scratch your cheek. “sorry for snapping at you yesterday.”

“you shouldn't apologize, i was...” she stops. pride catching in her throat. “so dramatic,” you cut in gently, knowing she won’t admit fault, placing the bag down.

"what is this?" someone peeks in. "oh, wow—this smells amazing. is that... soup? and kimbap!" "wait—what’s this? wah! lomi salmon? you’re hawaiian?" you smile faintly. “yeah. born and raised.”

“no wonder,” a woman mutters. “your vibe’s different. warm.” "they really cooked this?" another teases. “wow. is this what it’s like to have a partner?”

eunji groans. “don’t start.”

"no, seriously,” someone says. “they show up early, they cook, and they’re cute. where do you find people like this?”

someone finds the note. reads it aloud. “ugh, i want a partner who apologizes with food.” “look at their hoodie—they're freezing just to bring it over!” you stiffen, ears burning. eunji lifts a hand in warning. “guys, let them breathe.”

you glance at her, surprised. and for once — no teasing in her voice. just that steady calmness she rarely used when others were around.

she looks so much like home — the version of her from college — your heart drops.

you flush, tugging your sleeve. eunji doesn’t say anything, just hands out the extra kimbap. her silence is enough.

you turn to leave, stepping backward. your hoodie up, hands bare, pink with cold. shoulders hunched, your shoes leaving faint, damp prints on the tile — melting snow and whatever came before it.

you turn the corner. don’t glance back.

but sana glances.

her head snaps toward the sound — a soft click, a faint voice saying “thank you for the hawaiian food, eunji’s partner!” — her eyes catch movement across the hallway. her breath falters.

she knows that walk. that build. that way your sleeves hang past your wrists. the curve of your back in the cold. the way you always walked like the world was too loud and you wanted to slip through it unseen.

“what the…” she whispers already stepping forward.

one step. two— “sana,” jihyo’s voice cuts through. “hey. don’t wander. we’re wrapping up.”

sana freezes mid-step. “just a second—” she says. “we’re literally on the last chorus,” jihyo calls.

sana turns, half-dazed. “i thought—” but when she looks back— nothing. just an empty corner.

no hoodie. no footprints. just cold air and silence.

she stares. something inside tightens — not panic, but worse. hope.

“you okay?” jihyo asks. sana swallows. “yeah. i just thought i saw…”

“a sasaeng?” nayeon raises a brow. “no,” sana says quickly. “just… someone i used to know.”

“should i tell the coordi team?” jihyo asks. “no,” sana insists. “it’s fine.” but it’s not fine. her chest is doing that thing again — full and empty all at once.

momo heads back inside. nayeon walks past, grabbing her water. “what was that about?”

“she thought she saw someone,” jihyo says. nayeon leans into sana. “someone you used to date?”

sana doesn’t answer. just laughs. hollow.

because inside, everything is screaming.

because if it was you—why didn’t you say anything?

why does she want to run after you so badly she can barely breathe?

----

the practice room hums with motion.

sana sits on the floor, back against the mirror, her phone tilted low in her lap. across the room, dahyun is spinning in place while jihyo laughs breathlessly, clapping to some beat only they seem to hear. nayeon’s in the corner making tiktoks, and momo’s retying her shoes for the third time. it’s warm, the windows fogged up from the body heat, the air full of sweat and noise and the faint smell of grape vitamin water.

and sana isn’t listening to any of it.

her eyes are fixed on the screen. or rather, what isn’t on it.

no posts. no profile picture. no bio. just your name. just the unchanging emptiness of your instagram.

“twenty minutes,” nayeon calls, peering over sana’s shoulder. “you’ve been staring at that for twenty minutes.”

sana clicks the screen off. “i haven’t.”

“is it one of your old lovers?” nayeon grins. “you saw someone earlier and now you’re sulking like a ghost walked by.”

sana flushes. “they weren’t a lover.”

“oh?” nayeon nudges her foot. “but you wanted them to be?”

“yah,” jihyo warns lightly, “leave her alone.”

but sana is already gone again, in her head. back to that hallway. the brush of cold air when the break room door opened. the way that hoodie slouched just right over familiar shoulders. the slope of a back she hasn’t seen in years — still tall. still quiet. still unreadable.

and then that staff voice echoing down the corridor — thank you for the hawaiian food, eunji’s partner!

sana rubs her chest. it doesn’t help. it aches in that sore, bruised way, like an old song stuck in her bones. the kind of pain that deepens the longer she stares into it.

she turns her screen back on. sighs. still nothing.

"what if you made a new account," she mutters, voice soft, pleading. “what if you moved and didn’t tell anyone? what if you’re hiding on purpose?”

she searches again. again. tries every spelling, every username she thinks you’ll use. flips through mutuals. searches tagged photos. nothing. nothing. nothing.

her brows draw together. she shifts her legs up, hugs her knees to her chest.

“you’re so mean,” she pouts under her breath, the words small and cracked. “do you really not miss anyone? not even a little? not even me?”

the light in eunji’s apartment is low — cold through the window, blue-grey on the counter. your half-finished breakfast sits cooling by the counter near the sink: rice, leftover soup, two limp rolls of kimbap.

you pick one up. hesitate. bite it anyway.

the taste is the same. sesame oil, salt, a little sweetness. but it catches in your throat halfway down. you cough once. then again, harder.

you remember the first time you made something like this — how you folded the rolls with care, how you set them down with a half-smile and an awkward, quiet hope. you remember holding your breath when you offered it, as if the tiniest motion might break whatever fragile thing hung between you. and you remember the silence that followed — heavy, hollow, not rejection exactly, but something colder. something final. she never took it. not then. not ever. she walked away.

the snow outside drifts steady past the window, silent and endless. it paints everything in soft white, too quiet, too clean. it’s so far from hawaii it stings. no crashing waves. no warm sidewalks. just cold that presses deep into your ribs.

you press a palm to your chest. it doesn’t help. you feel stupid.

you set the half-eaten kimbap down, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve, annoyed at the way it still tasted like memory. your phone buzzes once — a weather alert. more snow coming.

you sigh, unlock your phone, and tap keoni’s name without thinking.

he picks up on the second ring. "yo," he says, voice thick with sleep. "you miss me or somethin’? it’s barely nine here.”

“yeah,” you mutter. “needed a reminder why i left.”

“damn,” he snorts, “you call me just to insult me? cute.”

you lean an elbow against the counter, stare out the kitchen window. snow's collecting unevenly on the sill. “nah. just... breakfast didn’t go well.”

“you’re still cooking sad meals?”

“tried to make kimbap. almost died.”

keoni laughs like it's familiar. “classic. what was it this time — too much rice? veggies?”

“no, man. choked.”

“even better. death by nostalgia.”

you pinch the bridge of your nose. “don’t start.”

but he’s already going. “this about hawaii? you know you're going back like in three days.. or maybe someone from hawaii?”

you don’t answer.

“bro,” keoni says, “you always get like this when winter hits. i remember. you’d come back from the beach and just go full existential. same tone. same tired voice. same ‘i don’t care’ act.”

you flick a speck of rice off your hoodie. “maybe i just miss the weather.”

“nah, you don’t miss the weather. you miss people.”

“what people?”

keoni pauses — too long. then: “you still think about her? not the one from last summer. the one before. the— what was her name... park chaeyoung?”

you exhale sharply. "you’re really digging."

"just checking where your head's at. you had a streak, remember? that tattoo artist in makiki, the girl who worked at the smoothie truck—"

"okay, okay."

"i’m just saying," keoni teases, voice lighter now, "you used to be the heartbreaker, and now you’re choking on your own cooking like some washed-up lead in a breakup drama."

you snort, leaning your forehead against the cabinet. “you’re insufferable.”

“yeah, but you keep calling.”

you go quiet. your fingers drag along the rim of the counter, slow, idle.

keoni softens. “for real, though. you okay?”

you nod even though he can’t see. “yeah.”

“you sure?”

“…not really.”

you hear him shift on the other end, probably sitting up, probably frowning in that overly concerned way he always does when you say something honest.

“you need anything?” he asks.

“nah. just heading out for a bit.”

“wear your coat. you get cold easy.”

“okay, mom.”

“you’re welcome. and hey — you’ll be alright.”

you end the call with a small exhale, but it sticks in your throat on the way out. the apartment is quiet again. still too quiet. the kind that seeps under your skin and just stays.

you drop the phone face-down on the counter. stand there a second. then two. your hand brushes absently over the jacket hook, but you don’t reach for it yet.

your shoulders sag a little.

the soup is cold. the kimbap sits limp and untouched beside the sink. you stare at it too long, eyes blurring slightly before you even realize you're not blinking.

you swallow hard. shift your weight. shake your head once, like it might clear something out.

“this was a mistake,” you whisper. not to anyone. not really even to yourself. just to the silence. “coming here. should’ve just... left it back in the college days.”

you press the heel of your palm into your eye. it burns. when you blink again, your lashes feel wet.

you’re not sure when your chest started hurting — not the physical kind. the other kind. the kind that makes your throat close and your stomach turn and your fingers feel just a little colder than before. like something’s off balance.

you don’t know what’s wrong with you.

seoul isn’t bad. it isn’t. people are kind. the city shines at night. the food is good.

but it all feels... wrong.

you glance at the jacket still hanging. stare at the door. your pulse skips for no reason.

something’s missing.

you don’t know what, but it’s loud. the absence. it rattles in the walls, curls beneath your ribs. it’s in the corners of the room, in the way the heat never quite warms your fingers, in the way the streets feel too full but still lonely.

your hand finally reaches for the coat. you fumble the zipper. breathe in, shaky. tug the sleeves on like muscle memory.

the snow then greets you like it knows everything.

and you don’t even flinch.

----

the evening tastes like metal — like old coins, cold wind, the edge of something unfinished.

you walk seoul like it’s borrowed.

your steps echo too loud on empty sidewalks, too slow to belong here. behind fogged windows, strangers laugh over beer and tteokbokki. the streets pulse warm with life, but none of it touches you. your gloved hands stay tucked in your pockets. scarf pulled high. hood drawn low. not hiding — just… detached. you don’t know what you’re looking for. maybe a memory. maybe peace. maybe nothing.

snow hadn’t been in the forecast. but still, it starts — soft, drifting, clinging to hair and sleeves and streetlamps. your breath clouds the air.

you cross at a blinking light, pass a steaming cart of roasted chestnuts, nod politely at the ahjumma selling candied sweet potatoes. her smile falters when she sees your face — like she almost recognizes something in it. or maybe it’s just your eyes. they’ve been glassy all day.

a song plays from a café behind you. gentle, string-heavy.. It reminds you of beach bonfires back home. 

you don’t let the memory finish.

your boots hit a patch of ice.

someone slams into you.

“oh—” you stagger back. the other body slips — there’s a startled gasp, arms flailing, then the unmistakable thump of a fall.

“shit—are you okay?” you stumble with her, one hand reaching out, the other already pulling your coat off. she lands hard, knees to concrete. the snow’s picking up. you crouch beside her, already draping the coat over her shoulders without thinking.

“sorry, i didn’t see—here, let me—” you say patting your coat onto her shoulders, panic creeping up. “you alright? are you hurt? please don’t be—”

you reach out to steady her.

and then she looks up. your breath lodges in your throat.

the girl doesn’t speak. just stares — stunned, still, blinking flakes off her lashes.

“…why do i keep bumping into people in seoul,” you murmur, trying to laugh, trying to defuse the sudden tightness in your chest.

she doesn’t laugh.

her hand rises slowly to her mask. she pulls it down.

and the world breaks open.

fuck.

you flinch like her name was a slap. your mouth opens, closes. your heartbeat lurches.

you look away first. of course you do.

“you—” your voice caves in on itself. you look away, throat burning, the snow sticking to your lashes now too.

she’s still sitting on the cold pavement, the coat slipping slightly down her arms, her fingers frozen in the air where they nearly reached for you.

sana’s lips part, stunned.

she doesn’t move to stand. doesn’t blink. just stares up at you like the moment itself is unreal — like if she breathes too hard, you’ll disappear again.

“you…” she finally whispers. “you’re really here.”

you force yourself to look at her again. your eyes flicker to her knee, where a small scrape blooms red. guilt spikes in your ribs.

but so does something else. something bitter. something old.

“yeah,” you manage. “guess i am.” your hands curl into fists inside your sleeves.

you want to ask her why. why she never called. why she let everything rot between you.

but you can’t. you don’t get to ask anymore.

you reach forward — stiff, — and help her up without looking at her. she wobbles slightly, then finds her footing. your hand lingers just a moment longer than it should.

and when you try to step back—

she grabs your wrist.

not enough to pull you in. just enough to stop you from walking away.

you freeze but you don’t look at her.

you retract your hand like it's been poisoned. “it’s slippery,” you say, too sharp. “you should be careful.”

she doesn’t move. her voice breaks. “i… i thought—”

a vibration hums from her pocket. her phone. she reaches for it blindly, never taking her eyes off you.

“…unnie?” her voice is raw. “yeah. i’m fine. just… slipped. i’ll be there soon.”

her eyes flick to yours, pleading.

you step back.

you don’t know what to do with the ache pounding behind your ribs.

you glance once at the scrape on her knee, at your own coat still hanging awkwardly over her frame.

then you step back again.

the snow’s falling heavier now. catching in your lashes. numbing your fingers.

“take care, sana,” you say, eyes fixed on the space beside her.

then you turn and walk.

no second glance. no goodbye in your tone. nothing.

just the weight in your chest tightening with every step away.

and behind you, she’s still standing there — clutching the phone, your coat sagging over her shoulders, her lips trembling.

the streetlamp glows soft over her hair. the snow keeps falling.

and she doesn’t chase after you.

she just watches you disappear again.

like the first time.

-----

it had been a few days since that night.

seoul after dark looked like a painting still drying — amber streetlamps dripping across the pavement, shop windows blinking like soft hearts in the cold. your breath fogged in the air, scarf tucked to your chin, hands shoved deep in your coat pockets.

“next time, it’s your turn,” you said, walking beside eunji.

she grinned. “my turn to what? get eaten alive by mosquitoes while you drink overpriced smoothies?”

you laughed. “yeah. exactly.”

you turned a corner. the crowds thinned, noise fading to stone alleys and old rooftops. paper lanterns swayed above. for a second, it felt like hawaii again — quiet and open. except colder. lonelier.

“it’s nice here,” eunji said, slowing. “different. but nice.”

you nodded. her hand hovered close to yours.

then her phone buzzed.

she glanced at it. sighed. “manager. give me a sec?”

“i’ll wander,” you said.

“sure?”

“won’t get kidnapped. probably.”

she snorted and stepped away, phone already to her ear.

you walked on, through older streets where café windows glowed and the air smelled like grilled fish. couples leaned close inside, but you didn’t stop.

until you heard it.

a voice — soft, panicked.

“…i’m waiting for someone. please.”

you turned.

there she was.

hood slipped, mask crooked, pressed against a wall. two men stood too close. one whispered something near her ear. her eyes searched, fast, desperate.

she didn’t see you.

you exhaled. stepped forward.

“there you are,” you called, loud and sure. “honey, i’ve been looking everywhere.”

sana flinched. the men turned.

you reached her side, arm sliding around her back. she tensed — but didn’t move away. not when you tucked her hair behind her ear, not when you leaned in like this was natural.

“sorry,” you said, loud. “she gets lost easily.”

“who are you?” one asked.

“her partner.”

“she didn’t say anything.”

“she doesn’t need to.”

you tried to guide her away — but one grabbed her wrist.

you didn’t think. your fist met his face. not clean, but hard. he stumbled, hit a bin.

the other shoved you.

you ducked his swing, shoved him back. fists, elbows, cold breath. messy. desperate.

he landed a punch — your lip split. blood on your tongue.

you kneed his stomach. he dropped. then hands pushed you from behind — you hit the ground, everything ringing.

“stop!” sana’s voice, cracked and terrified.

you grabbed an ankle, yanked. he fell. you pinned him, breath ragged.

“try it again,” you spat. “touch her again.”

he swore. the other pulled you back. a tangle of limbs and cursing — knuckles, feet, the sting of winter air.

finally, they fled. bruised. bleeding. spitting.

you didn’t move. not yet.

sana was kneeling beside you, hands hovering.

“you’re bleeding,” she whispered. “why would you—”

“are you okay?” you rasped.

she stared like she’d never seen you before.

“you’re shaking,” she whispered. “can you stand?”

you tried. legs buckled, and she caught you — one hand on your arm, one at your back.

“you’re not going to a hospital?” she asked.

“ just busted lip,” you muttered. “i’ve had worse.”

“when?” her voice cracked. “in what world is that normal?”

you looked away. “i’m fine.”

“you’re not.”

she fixed your coat, fingers trembling. her voice softened.

“come back with me.”

you blinked. “what?”

“just for a bit. so i can clean that up.”

you looked at her — jaw tight, legs pressed together like she was still cold.

“…you sure you know how to fix a split lip?”

“no,” she said. “but i can google it.”

you almost laughed.

“you really don’t have to—”

“i still have your coat.”

you blinked.

“i never gave it back.”

“so let me return it,” she said. “at my place.”

the silence stretched.

and you could feel it — how different her voice was. not playful. not teasing. just soft.

eunji.

the thought flickered.

you hadn’t told her where you were.

your hands curled.

sana still waited. still watched you.

you opened your mouth. closed it.

and finally — “...no.”

-----

“shit… sana—”

you groaned, sharp through your teeth. her name came out hoarse. low. too much breath tangled inside it.

your head tipped back against the armrest, shoulders tense, hands clenched into the hem of the coat she made you take off. warm legs straddled your lap, soft weight pressing into your thighs. every movement made you flinch. not from discomfort. not exactly.

her fingers brushed your jaw, tilted your face up again. “stop moving,” she muttered. “you’ll make it worse.”

“you’re making it worse,” you hissed, eyes fluttering shut. “what are you doing—”

“cleaning it,” she snapped, then winced. “sorry. i mean—i’m trying.”

your eyes cracked open.

she was kneeling over you, sleeves shoved up, a wet towel caught between her fingers like she was about to perform minor surgery instead of dabbing at your busted lip. it looked like a scene from a movie. the kind with slow lighting. a girl hovering over a wounded lover, flushed and tender.

you blinked. tried not to laugh. “you ever seen a medical drama?”

sana’s brows pinched. “what?”

“like grey’s anatomy. or literally any film with a medic. you dab. not scrub.”

“i’m not scrubbing!”

“you’re scrubbing, sana.”

“you’re bleeding!”

“i was bleeding.”

she scowled at you, then dipped the towel into the warm bowl of water on the side table again, wrung it out with far too much force.

your breath caught.

her hair brushed your cheek. her thigh shifted just slightly against yours. she smelled like shampoo and something faintly floral — something too gentle for the way your jaw throbbed.

“this is the weirdest thing i’ve ever done,” she mumbled.

“you’re literally on top of me.”

“i didn’t have space!”

“you could’ve just—” you gestured vaguely, “—sat next to me.”

“but then you’d have to lean back and i’d have to, like, hover weirdly and i didn’t want to make it more uncomfortable—”

“this is more uncomfortable.”

she froze. “i didn’t mean—” you sighed, dropped your head against the cushion again. “nevermind.”

she didn’t say anything. just softened her touch, dabbing more carefully at the corner of your mouth. gentler now. almost apologetic.

“…sorry,” she said quietly.

you didn’t answer. not because you were mad — just because something about the way she said it made your chest pull too tight. not playful. not guilty. just… sorry. like she’d wanted to say it for a long time.

her knee brushed yours again, unsure, like she didn’t know whether to stay or get up. finally she climbed off and sat beside you. the towel rested between you now, wet and red.

you could still hear her breathing — a little unsteady. her eyes were soft now, lingering on the cut on your lip, the bruising across your cheekbone. you didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything.

her voice came quiet. “how’s hawaii?”

you blinked, slow. “hot,” you said after a beat.

she looked up. “are you adjusting okay to seoul?”

you let out a laugh. flat. “i’m not staying. it’s just a vacation.”

“still,” she murmured, “you like it?”

you hesitated. “…i like the han river.”

she tilted her head. “just that?”

you didn’t answer. didn’t say you hadn’t explored much because eunji’s schedule was always full. didn’t say you were afraid of being alone. you just shifted your gaze, watching the soft yellow light of her apartment spill across the wooden floor.

sana was still holding the towel.

she stared down at it, twisted in her hands. then, suddenly—

“i hated not knowing if you were okay.”

you turned to her, slowly.

“when you left,” she said, barely above a whisper. “when the messages stopped. i thought about it a lot. i kept checking—just to see something. anything.”

you blinked, face unreadable. “well. you wouldn't know.”

she looked up sharply. “what?”

you swallowed, tasting metal still. “we weren’t in contact.”

her face shifted — not angry, but straining to hold something back.

“i had your instagram.”

you let out a breath of disbelief, jaw tight. “i don’t use it much.”

lie.

you knew her tour dates. her outfit choices. you’d liked exactly zero posts, but you’d seen them all.

you stood slowly, brushing your jeans off. her apartment was small but beautiful — warm light, low furniture, a little bookshelf with soft pink covers and tiny candles shaped like hearts. it was too clean. too curated. it didn’t feel lived in.

it felt like her.

you were biting your lip before you even realized. not from pain — from something else. something restless in your chest.

then your phone buzzed.

eunji.

you stared down at the screen, thumb frozen above it.

sana’s eyes tracked the movement. her expression shifted — not readable at first, then quiet, then tighter. her gaze dropped.

you stepped back toward the couch, reaching for your coat. the other coat, too — the one you gave when you met. it was draped across the armrest, familiar weight in your hands.

you didn’t realize until then how quiet the room had gotten.

you were halfway to the door when her voice stopped you.

“…why didn’t you ever reach out?”

you turned.

she was still seated, her back slouched slightly now, head low. her voice came soft, almost like it wasn’t meant for you.

you stared at her.

your hand gripped the doorframe.

“you were the one,” you said, each word cutting clean, “who didn’t want to stay in touch.”

she flinched — not visibly, but enough.

her mouth opened, breath catching.

“i gave you my nu—”

the door swung open.

“sana?” jihyo’s voice rang out.

“what the hell—” momo froze in the entryway, food bag hitting the floor with a loud, greasy splat.

“uh…” nayeon scanned the room. “sorry. are we interrupting something?”

you froze, coat over one arm, the other half-raised from where you’d been reaching for the door.

your arm dropped. coat draped over it. you bowed stiffly. deep.

no one said anything else.

you stepped past them, through the narrow hallway. cold air met your face.

you didn’t look back.

and sana still didn't follow you.

----

the door shut behind you like the last line of a poem that never resolved.

sana didn’t move.

not even as the silence expanded — thick, suspended, trembling at the edges. it filled the room in your absence. wrapped around the walls. curled beneath the couch.

momo broke it first. her voice cracked like a mismatched chord.

“wait. was that—was that your partner?”

jihyo didn’t answer. she just looked at sana the way you look in a mirror after crying — cautious. careful. like the reflection might flinch.

nayeon bent to pick up the fallen food bag, her usual teasing stripped down to something quieter. “sana… who was that?”

no reply.

her hands were still twisted in the towel, knuckles pale from how tight she was holding on. her coat had slipped off one shoulder, like she’d started to move but forgot how. her face wasn’t blank — just stunned. like someone bracing for a wave and realizing too late they’d already drowned.

no smile. no laugh to deflect. no shrug to send the moment skipping across the surface.

just one breath.

deep. tired. from somewhere inside her she didn’t want anyone to hear.

jihyo stepped closer, a hand gentle on her shoulder. “you should talk to them.”

momo sat beside her, voice quieter now. “they looked like they weren’t coming back.”

sana’s lips parted. her eyes stayed closed.

when she finally spoke, it was soft. stripped down.

“i don’t even know where to start.”

nayeon joined them on the couch, her voice like a lifeline. “start anywhere,” she said. “just don’t wait until it’s too late.”

silence stretched again. waiting.

a buzz.

sana’s phone vibrated against the wooden table. once. like a heartbeat.

she leaned forward.

glanced.

then froze.

jihyo leaned in. “what is it?”

but sana was already moving.

standing so quickly the towel slipped from her hands and fell to the floor with a wet sound. it lay there forgotten, red-stained and wrung out like her.

she didn’t answer.

and the weight of something unspoken had finally broken the surface.

---

the cold bit first. not in your skin, but somewhere deeper — tucked just beneath your ribs, where old memories fester. it wasn’t the kind of cold you could dress for. it was the kind that reminded you of things. of quiet heartbreak. of silence stretched too long. the kind that made you ache even in your bones.

the han river looked different at night — less like water, more like glass. unmoving. half-asleep. the wind skimmed its surface like fingers trailing over old scars, soft and unkind. your footsteps slowed without you meaning to, gravel grinding under each step as the snow began to fall in fine, hesitant flakes. it wasn’t quite winter yet, but the season had started whispering at the edges.

you wandered down the path you remembered from your last visit — a small, hidden curve near the water, where the trees leaned low like they were trying to listen. here, the noise of the city faded. the sky opened up wide and quiet. even your thoughts sounded too loud.

you sat down.

no one else was around. just you, the frost, and the city lights across the water flickering like stars someone forgot to wish on. the bench beneath you was damp and cold, and your fingers curled into your sleeves out of instinct. somewhere nearby, a car passed — distant and muffled — then everything was still again.

your phone buzzed.

you didn’t look. another buzz. you didn’t move.

eunji.

you stared at the name glowing faintly in the dark, then finally tapped out something dull, mechanical:

i just got lost. i’ll be back soon.

you left her on read.

your thumb hovered over the camera app for a second. the river. the snow. the faint blur of light. you took a photo without thinking and posted it. no caption. not even a filter.

it looked more like a memory than a real place. something half-dreamt. like you could reach through the screen and touch a version of yourself that didn’t exist anymore.

you exhaled, long and shaky. the air tasted sharp, metallic. like it could cut.

then — footsteps.

slow, deliberate, crunching through snow.

you didn’t turn around right away. your whole body tensed, your heart ticking faster against your ribs.

“if i get murdered right now,” you muttered, voice flat, “at least it’s poetic.”

no one answered.

but you felt it. that shift in the air. the way the cold paused.

you turned and saw her.

sana.

not just standing — but running. or maybe she had been. her hair was wind-tangled, her cheeks flushed deep from the cold. she looked breathless, lashes tipped in snow, like the world had tried to stop her and she hadn’t let it. she didn’t speak. not at first. just stood there like she was trying to believe you were real.

your chest pulled tight.

“how—”

she stepped forward. her voice barely carried. “your story.”

her eyes searched yours. and for a second — a real, whole second — you saw her how she used to look at you. like you were a question worth asking.

the snow fell slow between you, soft and endless, like even time didn’t want to intrude. her breath came out quick, uneven clouds in the air. she looked like something you shouldn’t touch — too fragile, too out of reach.

you swallowed. “did you come all the way out here for that?”

she nodded once. her mouth opened, then closed again, like she didn’t trust her voice. it shook, anyway.

“why…” she tried.

you waited.

then it hit — like something breaking loose all at once. she shouted, “why didn’t you ever contact me?!”

her voice split the cold open.

your heart lurched. you flinched — not visibly, but inside, where everything had been trying to hold steady.

her voice ripped through the cold. it cracked something open. inside you. inside her.

you flinched. not from the sound — from the grief.

“i gave you a picture,” she went on, chest rising too fast. “back in hawaii. i wrote my number on it. i… i waited. i checked. i thought you just didn’t want to—”

her voice broke like glass on pavement.

you stared at her. stunned. the air between you was quiet again, like the river itself had gone still, holding its breath.

“…i never got it,” you said.

sana blinked.

“what?”

you stepped forward slowly. your voice was low, flat, and too calm for how hard your heart was beating.

“i never got a picture. or your number.”

she just stared.

"what do you mean—" sana stepped closer. her boots left small, lonely prints in the snow.

your jaw clenched.

"you didn’t even acknowledge the food i gave you," you said, your voice tight. "i asked eunji to pass it to you. i thought that was your answer. i thought you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

her brow furrowed, confused and sharp with emotion. “what food?”

"what food?" she said again, louder, desperate now. “what are you talking about?”

you looked at her. saw the confusion. the hurt.

it wasn’t a lie.

a sick weight pulled in your stomach.

“did you give your number to eunji?”

she nodded, slowly. lips pale. “yeah. she said she’d—”

and that was it.

the drop.

that moment just before the fall, where everything hangs still, perfect, poised — and then it shatters.

your body reeled like it had been pushed.

you caught yourself on the edge of the bench.

the snow didn’t stop falling.

it landed on your hands. your shoulders. the back of your neck. it melted there. turned cold to water. turned water to silence.

you laughed once. it sounded like it hurt your throat.

“she never gave it to me,” you said. not looking at her now. “she never gave me anything.”

the silence stretched.

the river rippled, dark and slow.

“i checked,” she said, voice cracking. “i kept checking. your instagram. just to see if you were okay. if you remembered me. i didn’t want to text first. i didn’t want to be stupid—”

"you weren’t," you said. too fast. too bitter.

sana flinched.

“we were both stupid,” you added, softer. “just for different reasons.”

she didn’t speak. just looked down at her hands like they were broken things. like maybe they were the problem.

and the snow kept falling.

light, and relentless, and quiet.

for a second, it felt like hawaii again. that last day. that last look.

but colder.

colder than anything. colder than the wind.

and all that time — all those years — you’d both been waiting.

for each other.

for nothing.

-----

you should’ve walked away.

but instead, your hand moved first. quiet. like instinct, or something older. you stepped forward, took your extra coat, and gently draped it over her frame.

she blinked.

not at the coat — at you.

your hands stayed on her arms a second longer than needed. the fabric was too big for her. it swallowed her up. still, she looked so small inside it. fragile, like something you couldn’t bear to drop again.

you shook your head once, slow. not at her. not at you. just the ache.

then, without a word, you turned toward the street.

she followed.

you didn’t look back, but you heard her behind you — her steps crunching against the snow, her breath hitching in a way that didn’t sound like cold anymore.

the snow kept falling, more tender now, like the sky was softening too. the streets were quieter out here, shining in the pale yellow of old lamps and flickering signs. your footsteps were slow. hers, unsteady. she had to hug the coat tighter to her chest just to believe it was real.

because none of this felt real.

a week ago you were still a ghost. an ache behind her ribs. and now you were here, your shadow stretching long beside hers, your scent faint on the collar she curled into.

you found a convenience store. the kind with flickering lights and soft fluorescent hums. warm. too warm. the bell above the door chimed like a lullaby.

the light inside the convenience store buzzed faintly, humming low like it knew not to speak too loudly. outside, the snow fell slow — quiet little ghosts drifting past the windows. inside, it was warmer, but not by much. just enough to thaw fingers, not hearts.

then the light — cold and artificial, but merciful. she blinked through it, watching as you nodded politely to the cashier and led her to a tiny seating area by the window: just two plastic chairs, a metal table, and a dusty radiator ticking faintly.

“sit,” you said, quiet.

she did. still shivering a little, still glancing over her shoulder, like the spell might break.

you were already at the aisles — grabbing ramen cups, pouring water into a machine, picking out bottled drinks with practiced hands. she watched you like it was a ritual. like you’d done this a thousand times before — maybe alone, maybe with someone else. the latter hurt more than she expected.

you came back with a tray. placed it down gently.

one bowl slid toward her. “it’s hot.”

you sat across from her in the narrow seating area tucked beside the instant noodles aisle. the plastic chairs were flimsy, slightly uneven. one wobbled under sana’s weight every time she shifted, but she didn’t complain. she was wrapped in your extra coat — the one you’d taken from her place earlier, now draped over her shoulders like it had never belonged anywhere else. it dwarfed her frame. swallowed her neck. but she didn’t adjust it. didn’t even try to pull it tighter.

your hands were red from the cold. one held a plastic fork. the other nursed a canned coffee gone lukewarm.

you glanced up when she chuckled softly — just a breath, just enough to be heard over the low whir of the heater overhead.

“ice cream in winter?” she asked, nodding to the half-melted cone near your tray.

you stared at it, then gave a small shrug. “i never really adjusted. not to seoul’s winter.”

your voice came out quieter than you meant. it didn’t sound like a statement. more like an apology to no one.

sana looked at you for a long time.

then, gently, “how long have you been here?”

you hesitated. fiddled with the tab of your drink. “two weeks.”

she blinked. “that long?”

“eunji invited me,” you said. the name caught in your throat, dry and sharp. “i didn’t really plan to stay.”

you didn’t tell her that you hadn’t even unpacked fully. you didn’t say anything more.

and sana didn’t press.

outside, a car passed slowly, headlights skimming across the snow-covered glass. inside, the air felt too still.

her knees brushed against yours under the table. not fully — just the softest graze. like breath against skin. like memory.

neither of you moved.

she turned her face slightly, watching you from beneath her lashes.

“…when are you leaving?”

you exhaled, low. the steam from your cup twisted into the air between you.

“tomorrow.”

a pause.

then a frown bloomed between her brows. not sudden — slow and reluctant, like it hurt to let it show.

she looked down. “that’s soon.”

you nodded once, then broke your gaze to stare out the window again. the world outside felt unreal. just frost and blur and noise you couldn’t name.

she was the one who broke the silence again. quietly. carefully.

“you and eunji…”

her voice trailed.

you turned your head back toward her. she wasn’t looking at you. her fingers were curled around her can of corn tea, knuckles faintly white.

you watched her.

then shook your head once. “no.”

sana blinked. her lashes trembled, catching the light.

“the day at jyp…” she started, voice unsure. “they said—”

“it was an act.” your voice was low, rougher than before. “she didn’t want to look bad in front of staff. so i… i went along with it.”

you paused. frowned deeper. your gaze dropped to your lap. your hands had curled into fists without you noticing.

“honestly,” you said, “i'm disappointed in her.”

sana stayed silent.

you rubbed your thumb against the edge of the table. your eyes didn’t lift. “i wanted to be closer to you before. not… hidden. not kept away like some—”

you didn’t finish the sentence. just let the words hang, fraying.

“i don't like it.”

the heater clicked once. the sound of the soup boiling behind the counter faded. even the workers had gone quiet, leaving the space around you dim and flickering.

then—

“did you… date anyone after i left?” sana asked.

you blinked once. didn’t answer.

your fingers twitched. your shoulders curled in slightly.

then, slowly, you nodded.

“yeah,” you said. voice stripped bare. “fuck, i did date to forget about you.”

the words fell like something you couldn’t catch in time. as soon as they left your mouth, your body recoiled — just slightly — a wince folding your brow, your gaze falling.

“sorry,” you muttered quickly. “i didn’t mean to— sorry for the curses, sana...”

you shifted an inch away, as if trying to put space between your shame and her silence.

but sana didn’t move.

you kept your head down. your voice cracked quieter now. “i tried. i really tried. to forget you. to un-feel it. to fill the space you left. even if you were there for only a week.”

your jaw tensed. “nothing worked.”

a beat passed.

her knee touched yours again, this time firmer. not an accident. and still, she didn’t move away.

your eyes lifted.

she was looking at you like she hadn’t stopped. her cheeks were flushed, but not from the cold. her breath was caught in her throat.

her voice came out like silk rubbed raw. “i didn’t date anyone.”

you stared.

“i was waiting for you,” she said.

and the air left your lungs.

like a door closing inside your chest.

your pulse stuttered. your fingers curled into your palms. the coat slipped slightly off her shoulder, but she didn’t fix it. her eyes were glassy. the corner of her lip trembled.

you didn’t speak.

you couldn’t.

the heater buzzed. your soup had gone cold. her knees were still touching yours. her fingers still clutched the cup, as if anchoring herself in the moment.

neither of you moved.

and outside, the snow kept falling. quiet. steady. like it had never stopped.

the ringtone broke first.

not loud. just a sharp little jingle against the quiet hum of the store. sana blinked, slow — like surfacing from a dream — and fished her phone from the coat pocket you’d lent her.

she glanced at the screen. didn’t hide it.

jihyo unnie~

you didn’t say anything. just lowered your gaze and gently stirred the noodles in your cup, their steam softening the tips of your lashes.

she answered.

“hello?”

her voice was gentle, a little dazed.

and then — jihyo’s voice, from the other end, sharp and unmistakable, even without speaker on. fast, worried, scolding. like a leader who’d paced her apartment three times already. “yah, sana! where did you even go? you didn’t take your coat! what were you thinking—”

you slurped your noodles quietly, trying to stay small in the background. your ears were pink.

“unnie, i’m okay,” sana said, trying to keep her tone light. “really. i’m warm now.”

“don’t lie! did you even eat anything?”

sana glanced at you. her eyes softened. her voice followed.

“…i’m eating now.”

your hand froze for a moment around your fork. your ears burned red geez, why did she look at you and not her food..

but then jihyo’s voice cut again — lower now, more teasing. the kind that pokes just enough to hit the nerve. “okay, okay. just let us know if you and your partner made up already. seriously, you two gave us a heart attack today—”

sana jolted.

you coughed — too hard — and choked on a mouthful of noodles, smacking your chest once, eyes wide.

“what—” you wheezed.

sana scrambled to hang up. “okay love you unnie bye!!” she rushed into the phone, her voice rising three pitches in panic before she jabbed the red button.

silence.

then sana slowly turned her head to you, her eyes round as moons. her cheeks glowed crimson. she tried to stammer something but failed.

you stared at her. still chewing.

then, wordlessly, you checked the time on your phone. you look flustered and slightly tried to hide your phone's wallpaper hoping she won't see. 11:03 pm.

you exhaled. stood up. started gathering the trays.

“…let’s get you home.”

she didn’t argue. just nodded, small. the coat slid down her shoulder again. you reached over without thinking and fixed it for her, brushing her collar gently back into place.

she looked away too fast.

the walk to the curb was quiet. the snow had softened again, sticking in your lashes, whispering into your collar. your hand hovered near her elbow once, just in case she slipped.

you hailed the first taxi that passed. it was old, yellowed, with soft fabric seats that smelled faintly of coffee and dust.

you opened the door for her.

not smoothly — your hand slipped a little on the handle — but you managed it. and still, you kept your eyes averted as she stepped in.

she smiled.

you followed after. sat beside her in the back, not too close, but close enough that her sleeve brushed yours.

the driver glanced back at you through the mirror. “where to?”

sana named her apartment building.

you nodded faintly.

then fished out your wallet. thumbed a few bills nervously, then leaned forward slightly toward the driver.

“…uh. two payments, sir. one for her place, one for me, and… could you wait for me while i take her up? i’ll give extra.”

your voice cracked a little near the end.

the driver blinked.

then smiled.

“such a cute couple,” he said warmly. “of course i’ll wait.”

you made a strangled noise and sat back in your seat like you’d been pushed.

sana pressed a hand over her mouth.

“ugh. cutie,” sana whispered to herself, like she couldn’t help it. the word dropped from her lips like it had been begging to be said.

her ears were red. the kind of red that crept down her neck. her knees knocked gently against yours again as the car rolled forward, but this time, she didn’t flinch or pull away.

you groaned under your breath, hiding your face.

the car moved. outside, the snow turned to lace against the windows. inside, everything was warmer now — from the heater vents, from the nearness, from her smile lingering on you.

you looked away — out the window, anywhere. the city was all smudged lights and wet reflections. your heart pounded too loud for such a quiet ride.

you didn’t speak.

you just sat there.

quiet, hearts loud, knees almost touching.

and for once — her silence didn’t hurt.

—

the taxi rolled to a stop with a gentle lurch. before the wheels had even settled, you were already pushing the door open, stepping out quickly and glancing over your shoulder just to make sure—

“careful,” you muttered under your breath, eye flicking to where sana was stepping down onto the pavement. she wobbled slightly, so you moved closer, as if your presence alone might catch her.

she didn’t fall. but she glanced up and caught you watching.

you looked away, muttering a quiet “sorry,” and turned to face the driver again.

“we’ll just be a minute,” you said, tugging your wallet from your coat pocket.

the driver, older and kind-faced, waved a hand. “it’s alright. i’ll take a smoke break. take your time, young love.”

you flushed. again. nodded quickly. “thank you. really. i won’t be long.”

you turned back to sana, who was already halfway to the door, glancing back at you with a tiny, lopsided smile. you caught up without thinking. you caught up in the lobby, breath shallow, coat still hanging awkwardly off your shoulders as the glass doors hissed shut behind you. she was already pressing the elevator button — hair slightly damp from the snow, fingers twitching from the cold.

your steps slowed beside her. not from hesitation — but from the weight in your chest.

you could feel your pulse under your palm. loud. impatient. like it couldn’t believe this was real.

the elevator pinged.

you shifted slightly, feeling the edge of her coat sleeve brush yours. her arm was warm. or maybe it was you. or maybe it was just the heat between you that wouldn’t stop rising.

she pressed the button to her floor. didn’t speak. neither did you.

but your hand didn’t leave your chest.

your heart wouldn’t let you.

the elevator climbed. you swallowed.

a soft ding.

the elevator opened.

you stepped out with her. the hallway was dimly lit, carpet soft beneath your shoes, the kind of silence that echoed.

when she opened her door, the scent hit you first — faint jasmine and something warmer underneath, something lived-in. the place was tidy but full. plush furniture, warm wood, golden light from standing lamps. not overly fancy. but not cold either.

like her.

warmth.

the apartment greeted you like a memory: mismatched slippers by the door. it was warmer than you remembered. more alive. more hers.

you looked around, slower this time. eyes tracing the edge of her countertops, the curve of the furniture. the spill of light from the kitchen. your coat still hung on her shoulders, loose and oversized, like it belonged there.

“you can keep the coat,” you said, suddenly — before you could think. “i mean. it suits you.”

she raised an eyebrow. “it’s yours.”

“still looks better on you.”

a beat passed — then she looked away, flustered. her cheeks pink again.

you stepped further in. something dark on the floor caught your eye — a towel. stained faintly with blood. your breath hitched, but you bent down quietly, lifting it by the corners like it was fragile. you carried it to the kitchen sink and ran water over it, gently squeezing out the worst of it.

“you didn’t have to,” she said softly behind you.

"it's my mess. and i wanted to."

you turned. she was still standing in the same place, hands in your coat pockets, watching you with a gaze that melted like candlewax. slow, fond. like she was memorizing something.

you cleared your throat.

but she was watching you.

smiling.

you cleared your throat. dropped your gaze. “sorry, i didn’t say this earlier, but… your apartment’s really pretty.”

“mm.” she turned, flicking on a lamp near the window. it bathed her face in warm amber. “it’s big, huh?”

you nodded, still glancing around. your fingers brushed the back of a chair as you passed. “yeah. i didn’t notice these doors before either. they’re—huge.”

“they’re for the future,” she said, casually.

you blinked. turned back. “huh? like… storage?”

she smirked. not even trying to hide it. “no. for when i have a family.”

your breath caught.

you looked at her.

she was still smirking. still smug. eyes sharp with amusement.

“…not a house?” you asked, dumbly.

and her grin widened like the moon. “oh? so you want a house?”

you opened your mouth. closed it. opened it again. your face flushed hot. too fast.

“n-no,” you stammered, looking at the door, the wall, anything that wasn’t her. “i mean yes—i mean—i should go, the taxi guy’s waiting, he probably—”

“ah,” she said, still grinning, still holding back a laugh. “didn’t mean to scare you.”

“you didn’t,” you muttered.

you stepped back, nearly tripping over the shoe rack. she laughed again. then — quieter, this time — she said, “will you be online later?”

you paused.

then nodded. “if you want me to text, i will.”

she didn’t answer right away. just nodded slowly, her gaze dipping to the floor. her fingers brushed the edge of your coat sleeve again — once, almost absentminded — before stepping back.

you didn’t look back when you left. couldn’t.

your heart was too full.

you opened the taxi door and stepped in. the car was warm, still humming softly with the radio. the driver looked up in the rearview mirror and smiled.

“she’s a beautiful woman,” he said, pulling gently away from the curb.

you looked down at your hands. they were shaking. you pressed them together.

“…yeah,” you whispered. “overbearing. complicated. loud sometimes.”

you smiled.

“but i like it..”

i like her.

the driver didn’t reply.

but he smiled to himself.

and when the city lights passed by again — golden halos, bright snow falling, seoul glowing like something alive — you finally felt it in your bones.

this place didn’t feel like a memory anymore.

for the first time, it felt like it fit. like it filled something in you.

like it wasn’t just seoul.

it was hers.

and maybe — slowly, finally — it was yours too.

—---

the taxi slowed in front of your building.

you hadn’t said much after that last glance through the window. hadn’t even looked at the driver until now. the soft warmth in your chest was starting to settle, and underneath it — colder, sharper — was the memory of why you left the apartment in the first place.

you nodded, quietly. “thanks.” you gave him the extra money like you promised.

he gave you a knowing smile, then tapped the steering wheel. “take care, kid.”

you stepped out into the dim entry lights. the door buzzed open. your shoes echoed on the tiled floor. each step up the stairwell felt heavier than the last.

and when you opened the door to her apartment — she was already there.

“where the hell were you?”

eunji.

she was standing barefoot in the hallway, sleeves pushed up, eyes frantic and glistening. the moment she saw you, she rushed forward, her arms wrapping tight around your shoulders.

you didn’t move.

“you ran off,” she whispered against your shoulder. “you didn’t answer. i didn’t know where—”

“i saw her.”

you felt her body tense.

you pulled back just enough to look at her.

“i met sana,” you said again, quieter this time. “outside. I helped her with something..”

eunji’s eyes flickered. her arms dropped.

she stepped back. “what did you do?”

the way she said it — not what happened, but what did you do — stung.

your frown deepened. “why does it sound like i’m in the wrong?”

“i didn’t say that,” she muttered.

you stared at her. and then, finally, you said it.

“why did you keep her away from me?”

she flinched.

“i—” her mouth opened, then closed. her eyes darted. “i didn’t.”

you shook your head, once, slowly. “eunji.”

she still didn’t meet your eyes.

“you’ve been lying. you know how i can tell?” your voice cracked slightly. “i know you since college, eunji. i already memorized everything about you.”

a long silence stretched between you.

then, like something broke loose, her voice came out sharp and trembling.

“what was i supposed to do?” she said. “what if she broke you? i thought you’d forget. i thought if i didn’t say anything, you’d finally—” 

she paused. her jaw clenched.

“—you’d finally see me.”

your breath caught.

her hands were curled into fists at her sides.

“do you know what it felt like?” she said, voice lowering. “watching you fall in love over someone who will leave you? and every time you picked yourself up, you never looked at me. not really. even when i stayed. even when i held you through it all first.”

you didn’t know what to say.

your hands dropped uselessly to your sides. your heart was pounding again, for a very different reason now.

“i loved you,” she whispered. “i—i love you. i’ve been here this whole time, and you never even—i just wanted you to see me.”

her voice broke on the last word.

the apartment was so quiet you could hear the low hum of the refrigerator, the soft hiss of the radiator.

you finally looked up at her.

your voice, when it came, was hoarse. tired.

“…i’m sorry.”

her face crumpled.

you stepped forward, slowly. not to hug her — but to be near, to not leave her alone in this.

“i’m sorry, eunji. you didn’t deserve to wait for someone who couldn’t give you what you wanted.” your voice trembled. “but i still love her. i tried to stop. i did.”

you swallowed.

“but i saw her again, and it’s like—nothing ever left. it’s still her.”

she shook her head, tears now slipping past her lashes, silent and fast.

“i didn’t mean to hurt you,” you added, soft. “but lying to me… taking that choice away from me… that wasn’t fair either.”

eunji’s shoulders shook once — a breath, a sob, maybe both.

and for a long time, neither of you spoke.

just two people, standing in the dim hallway of a too-quiet apartment. one full of regret, the other full of a love that still belonged to someone else.

—-

you zipped your suitcase halfway, then paused.

your arms rested on the edge. your breath hung low in your chest.

the apartment was dim, lit only by the desk lamp in the corner, where its faint yellow glow hit the open drawers, the scattered socks, the half-packed shirts folded too neatly for how tired you were. your shadow shifted as you sat back on your heels, thumb pressed to your ribs like it could slow your heartbeat down.

it had been hours since eunji closed her door behind her.

you didn’t sleep. you couldn’t. not after everything. not with the silence so loud it pressed behind your eyes like a weight.

you had said sorry. over and over. you meant it.

she had cried. she hadn’t yelled, even when she could have. she just listened. and when you finally hugged her goodnight, her fingers trembled against your back. she hadn’t said goodbye. just nodded.

you knew what that meant.

it wouldn’t be the same anymore. and maybe that was fair.

but still, your heart ached.

you stared down at your phone for a long moment. then, finally, you typed.

hey... just wanted to say i talked to eunji tonight.

you hovered. then added:

she told me she liked me. that’s why she never told me about you.

you hesitated — then hit send.

the response came slowly. a full minute passed. then two.

finally, sana replied:

oh...

then:

i didn’t know that. that must’ve been hard for her. and for you.

you pressed your lips together.

then, after another pause, you typed:

i felt sad for her. but i told her she deserves someone who’ll wait for her the way she waited for me. and... i told her i’m sorry. and that i want to learn to love someone else now.

your heart stammered. you stared at the message.

then, softer, you added:

i told her i want to learn to love you.

this time, sana didn’t respond for a while.

meanwhile sana's tired eyes were fluttering open, her breath catching as she sat up, hair mussed, blanket slipping down her shoulder.

your phone vibrated.

you’re serious?

you smiled, fingers warm now.

yeah. if you’re still okay with that.

sana’s reply came faster this time.

are you kidding i’m smiling so hard i look stupid rn

then, a minute later:

let’s start tomorrow pick me up at 10?

you stared at the screen, heart suddenly too full for your chest.

you typed back:

okay. 10. i’ll see you tomorrow.

you didn’t say goodnight. didn’t need to.

the lamp buzzed faintly above you. outside, the city was quiet.

and for the first time since you arrived in seoul — maybe for the first time in years — you finally smiled without doubt.

—-

you knock twice, then once more, softer. the morning's quiet. the hallway still carries a hush from the night. when the door clicks open, it’s like the whole world exhales — and standing there is sana, wearing a long-sleeved blue polo with thin white stripes tucked loosely into light jeans.

you blink. then laugh under your breath.

“you’re kidding,” you say, eyes dragging down her outfit. “we match.”

she stares at you for a second, then bursts into a small laugh — pink already blooming high on her cheeks. “no way.”

you step back a little to show her the full view: same soft denim, same sky-blue shade, sleeves rolled once at the forearm. same understated attempt to look casual. it’s like the universe couldn’t help itself.

“just like hawaii,” you murmur, and it must be the way your voice drops that makes her quiet for a moment, tucking her lip between her teeth before smiling again.

“you ready?” she asks, tilting her head.

you nod, and she grabs her keys. neither of you say it, but the walk is slow. slower than usual. like your feet are afraid of where the sidewalk ends.

the café is quiet this early. just the barista humming, some jazz whispering through ceiling speakers. you order a java chip, and sana asks for an iced americano. the contrast makes you grin.

“haven’t changed at all.”

she sips from her straw with a smirk. “i miss the way you made the americano.."

you find a small table by the window. the street’s bright with summer, the light scattering over her hair, her sleeves, the way she holds her cup with both hands like it anchors her. there’s a silence, but it’s not heavy. it’s careful. a breath between pages.

“i keep thinking,” you start, “that it’s been three years. but this feels like yesterday.”

sana looks up, a little surprised. then: “yeah.”

you stare down at the melted whip of your drink. “like hawaii never ended. like i blinked and suddenly you’re here again.”

“i thought it’d be awkward,” she says quietly. “but it wasn’t. with you, it just… never is.”

you nod, slow. and then, almost as an afterthought, you add, “my flight’s at nine tonight.”

a pause. she doesn’t look at you when she says it.

“i know.”

your gaze lifts. “you know?”

her fingers tighten around her cup. “i mean… nothing. doesn’t matter.”

you don’t press. you want to — your chest twists at the way she shifts her eyes — but something in you says not now. not when the minutes are ticking toward evening. not when this, too, is a kind of goodbye.

after the last sip, you walk her home again. she walks close this time. not quite brushing your arm, but not far.

at her door, she hesitates.

“thanks for today,” she says, and you try not to memorize the way her hair falls into her face.

“yeah,” you smile. “it was perfect.”

you walk away before you can say anything else.

you get home by seven. your suitcase is already by the door. eunji’s waiting with your passport and keys, quiet but steady.

in the taxi, neither of you talk much.

when you reach the airport, she steps out first.

“i’m sorry,” she says again, voice thinner than usual.

you hug her tight, the way you used to when you didn’t know what was coming next.

“you’ll be okay,” you whisper. “you’ll meet someone who waits back.”

“you better text me when you land,” she mutters.

“you better get some sleep.”

you smile. she does too, a small one, then watches you go.

it’s 8:45 pm when you text sana.

i’m here now. airport’s loud. thanks again for earlier. it meant a lot.

there’s no reply. you check again at 8:50. then 8:57.

you sit near your gate, hoodie pulled up, watching people come and go. no notification.

at 9:10, they call final boarding.

you sigh, shoulders heavy, and stand. your feet drag a little.

your phone buzzes once, but it’s a flight update.

you board slowly. last one in line.

someone behind you shouts — a voice, high and clear, feminine.

“wait—!”

you half-turn, but your headphones are in. just another late passenger, probably. you don’t look back.

when the wheels lift, seoul disappears in blue and blur. your phone stays dark.

but your heart — your heart feels full.

just like hawaii.

and this time, you don’t feel like you’re leaving something unfinished.

but even if the timing cracked and shifted — you were lucky enough to find her again.

–-

“i missed you, hawaii, you goddamn—!”

your voice cracks mid-shout as the wind knocks you sideways and the surfboard flies clean out under you. saltwater slams into your face. keoni’s cackling in the distance, the kind of laugh that could peel paint off walls. “yo, language! the ocean hears you!”

you burst up from the water, slick hair clinging to your forehead, arms raised. “i don’t care, keoni! hawaii missed me too!”

keoni rides past with a crooked grin, cutting the waves like he owns them. “hawaii missed you, sure — but not your godawful form.”

you flip him off with both hands, still grinning. your whole body aches from the burn of salt and sun and joy. you haven’t laughed this hard in weeks. your skin is hot, stretched tight across your bones. you're soaked in everything good.

“bite me!” you yelled back, grinning hard, your chest aching with something bright and stupid and real.

you hadn’t laughed like this in weeks.

not since seoul. not since—

you reached the shore, board under your arm, water dripping off your sleeves. and for a moment, as the sun burned high above and the wind kissed your skin, it almost felt like none of it happened. like you imagined her, the airports, the flower, everything.

because the truth was... you never texted sana again.

after the airport. after the flight. you said nothing.

not because you didn’t want to.

and now, with your feet digging into warm sand and your heart still stubborn in your chest, you let it all go — tipped your head back, shouted to the sky:

“i missed you, hawaii!”

and that’s when you heard her laugh.

not in your head.

real.

you turned, squinting into the sun.

and there she was.

barefoot in the sand, wearing a soft white beach dress that clung lightly to her frame. the breeze tugged at the hem. her hair was loose, glowing gold at the ends. she had something behind her back.

and her smile —

oh.

your chest cracked wide open.

she was here.

and now you know why you never texted her back.

because she was already beside you.

you blink water from your lashes. her hair’s longer. cheeks pinked up from the sun. she doesn’t move — not until you’re almost close enough to touch.

“hi, ten out of ten flips earlier by the way.” she says, soft rating your flips when you were surfboarding, as if the day hadn't already shouted it in every way.

you don’t answer at first. you just step forward, dripping and breathless and still stunned, and you hold something out to her — a tiny pink flower, fragile in your fingers.

“come here,” you murmur.

she tilts her head.

you step closer, push back her hair, and gently tuck the flower behind her left ear.

she blinks. her breath catches.

she doesn't say anything. she doesn't need to. she turns, just slightly, lifting her phone. sunlight spills over the shoreline. she snaps a photo — just her, the ocean behind, the flower bright against her hair.

then she posts it.

you both sit down after that, side by side in the sand, knees almost touching. keoni’s still out there, flipping over waves like he’s auditioning for a commercial. you whistle once and he throws you a salute.

your phone buzzes.

m.by__sana just posted a photo.

you tap it. you like it. you’re the first one.

sana turns her head slowly. "you liked it?"

"hell yeah, i liked it. first like. i win."

she chuckles, opening her own phone. the screen lights up with chaos.

chaeyoung: UNNIE YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING ON A DATE NOT INTERNATIONAL ESCAPE??? nayeon: why is your dress WHITE WHAT ARE WE MISSING jihyo: we let you skip practice for a date WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN ANOTHER COUNTRY? jeongyeon: send us the coordinates rn dahyun: marry them or don’t come back. tzuyu: pretty unnie~ mina: just sends a GIF of a slow clap momo: yah, i spat out my ramen when i saw the post..

sana rolls her eyes, locks her phone, and tosses it onto her towel.

“not gonna answer?” you ask.

she shrugs, gaze shifting to the sunset. “maybe later.”

you look at her then. how the orange and pink light reflects in her eyes. how the flower’s still tucked behind her ear. how she hasn’t stopped smiling since she arrived.

she catches you staring. lifts a brow.

“what?”

“nothing,” you murmur. “it’s just—”

you gesture at the sky, the waves, her, all of it.

“it’s beautiful.”

she leans her head on your shoulder, warm and real and solid beside you.

“yeah,” she whispers. “it is.”

and this time, no one was leaving.  no one was late. no one was missing the moment.

because she came.

and this was the ending you both chose.

kino's note — kino will be offline for a while—school begins this week, and the days ahead already feel heavy with numbers and names i haven’t met yet. there’s a mina oneshot/series quietly forming somewhere in the back of my mind. it might take time. thank you for waiting, even when i disappear. 🌙

[zylokv]

FLEETING GLANCES. — minatozaki sana

❝ it’s hard not to feel jealous when you’re out there looking like that… and with someone else that close. ❞

synopsis — a solo artist’s rising fame comes with secrets—most notably their hidden relationship with sana from twice. a sensual performance stirs up jealousy and unspoken tension.

word count ! — 1.9k

— minatozaki sana x reader !

genre — oneshot.

music bank was alive with energy, a sea of fans cheering outside and idols gathered in their assigned spots under the venue lights. the rows of chairs were set up perfectly, giving just enough space for the camera to capture every group in attendance. you, a rising solo artist who had been making waves in the industry, sat near the front. the cameras loved you, and even the smallest shift in your seat had fans online buzzing.

behind you, twice was seated together, their dynamic as lively as ever. sana’s attention, however, was only half on her members. her gaze flickered to you more often than she’d like to admit, lingering on the way your outfit was tailored just right. her lips twitched as she fought the urge to smile.

"yah," momo whispered, leaning in close, "you’re staring so hard it’s a miracle their head hasn’t caught on fire yet."

sana shot her a look, one that said, not now. momo just laughed quietly, nudging nayeon, who was already grinning like she knew too much. nayeon leaned forward, whispering across the group.

“sana, you’re so obvious. even the fans are gonna catch on at this rate.”

“stop it,” sana muttered, her cheeks flushing pink. she glanced at the camera positioned nearby, suddenly hyper-aware of its lens. “i’m just watching the performances like everyone else.”

jeongyeon raised an eyebrow, sipping her water. “sure. except you’re watching one specific person, and they’re not even on stage yet.”

jihyo tried to intervene, her leader instincts kicking in. “alright, leave her alone. it’s not like she can help it.”

meanwhile, you were completely unaware of the chaos brewing behind you. well, mostly unaware. you could feel their eyes on you, could sense sana’s gaze lingering longer than the others’. a small smile tugged at your lips, but you kept your focus on the stage, where bts was performing with their usual explosive energy. the cheers from the crowd were deafening, the fans’ lightsticks waving in unison.

beside you, irene from red velvet gave you a polite nod, which you returned casually. the two of you had worked together before, so the greeting was natural, but even something as small as that didn’t go unnoticed by twice. nayeon elbowed sana, motioning subtly toward you and irene.

“look at that. they’re already stealing other idols’ attention. should we be worried for you?”

sana didn’t dignify that with a response, though her jaw clenched just slightly. her fingers toyed with the hem of her dress as her mind raced. she trusted you—of course she did—but the tiny flicker of possessiveness inside her was impossible to ignore.

“are you jealous already?” nayeon whispered into sana’s ear, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “they only said hi to irene.”

“i’m not jealous,” sana shot back, though her tone lacked conviction. her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her dress as she glanced at you again, only to see you focused on the performance.

jihyo chuckled quietly, leaning closer to sana. “you’re so obvious. relax, unnie—they’re being polite.”

sana pouted, her brows furrowing slightly. “i know, but... ugh, look at how casual they’re being, like they didn’t just text me good luck before walking in here. they’re too good at this secret thing.”

the members around her snickered, enjoying the rare sight of sana struggling to keep her cool. but as playful as their teasing was, they all knew how deeply she cared for you.

when bts finished their performance and the applause died down, the event took a brief break, with hosts taking over to engage the audience. staff members weaved through the rows, preparing for the next set of performers. it was during this lull that sana finally mustered the courage to lean forward, calling your name softly.

you turned at the sound, meeting her eyes with that infuriatingly charming smirk of yours. “minatozaki,” you greeted, your tone warm but teasing.

“you’re up next, right?” she asked, keeping her voice casual even as her heart raced.

“yeah,” you replied, leaning slightly closer. “you’ll be watching, i hope.”

her lips parted to respond, but nayeon cut in before she could, leaning over dramatically. “oh, don’t worry. she’ll be watching so hard it’ll look like she’s your personal camerawoman.”

sana shoved nayeon back into her seat, her face burning. “ignore her,” she muttered, earning a soft laugh from you.

before the exchange could go any further, a staff member approached, signaling for you to head backstage. your performance was coming up, and it was time to prepare. you stood, giving sana one last glance, your gaze lingering just enough to make her heart skip a beat.

as you walked away, momo leaned toward sana, her grin as wide as ever. “so, how does it feel knowing you’re dating someone who can make half the venue swoon just by existing?”

“quiet,” sana hissed, though she couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto her lips. she shifted in her seat, trying to calm the fluttering in her chest.

backstage, you were all business. the stylists adjusted the fit of your outfit, ensuring everything was perfect for the cameras. your backup dancer, a strikingly beautiful woman who matched your energy perfectly, gave you an encouraging nod as you ran through the final details of the choreography.

when it was time, you stepped onto the stage, your confidence radiating with every step. the music started, low and sultry, building slowly as the lights dimmed to focus solely on you. the choreography was precise, every movement deliberate. your backup dancer mirrored you effortlessly, the two of you creating a magnetic pull that had the audience holding their breath.

in the crowd, the reaction was immediate. fans screamed, their lightsticks flashing wildly as they watched you command the stage. twice, however, had a very different reaction—particularly sana. her eyes widened as the choreography grew more sensual, her jaw tightening when your dancer’s hand slid across your shoulder, lingering just a moment too long.

“unnie,” tzuyu whispered, clearly amused, “you’re crushing your water bottle.”

sana looked down, realizing tzuyu was right. she quickly set the bottle aside, her focus snapping back to you. no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

“it’s just a performance,” jihyo reminded her, though even she looked a little impressed. “they’re a professional.”

“i know,” sana muttered, though her tone was unconvincing. her fingers gripped the edge of her seat as she watched you tilt your head back, your voice hitting a powerful note that sent chills through the crowd. you were magnetic, and she hated that everyone else could see it too.

“unnie, calm down,” tzuyu teased sana, who was biting her lip in a poor attempt to suppress a deep frown. “it's their job.”

"yeah," dahyun chimed in, "but have you seen their performances? they killed it—and by 'it,' I mean sana’s patience."

when the performance ended, the applause was deafening. you took a bow, your breathing steady despite the demanding choreography. as you left the stage, you couldn’t resist glancing toward twice’s section, catching sana’s eyes for a brief moment. her expression was unreadable, but you could sense the tension.

backstage, your phone buzzed with a text. it was from sana: we need to talk later.

you smirked, typing back quickly: jealous?

her reply came almost instantly: yes. and you’re lucky you look good doing it.

you chuckled, pocketing your phone as you headed to your dressing room. you could already imagine the conversation waiting for you later, and the thought sent a thrill down your spine.

-----

as the car hummed softly beneath you, sana’s gaze stayed locked on yours, her eyes flickering with unspoken emotions. the teasing tension from earlier had melted into something heavier, something that made the air feel electric. your hand, still holding hers, gave a reassuring squeeze, but the way your thumb brushed along her knuckles was deliberate, almost testing the waters.

“you’re quiet,” you murmured, your voice dipping lower, coaxing her to respond.

she exhaled, her lips pressing into a pout before she finally spoke. “it’s hard not to feel jealous when you’re out there looking like that… and with someone else that close.”

your fingers shifted, interlacing with hers. “you know it’s all for show,” you said softly. “it’s just the job. none of it means anything.”

her eyes searched yours, and the way her walls crumbled just slightly made your heart clench. “i know,” she whispered, though her voice faltered. “but it’s not easy.”

you leaned closer, your free hand reaching up to cup her cheek. your thumb brushed across her skin, warm and smooth, and she instinctively leaned into your touch. “you’re the only one who matters to me, sana,” you said, your tone firm, as though willing her to believe it. “no one else comes close.”

her breath hitched, and before she could reply, you tilted your head, closing the small gap between you. the kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though testing her mood. but when her hands reached up to grip your shirt, pulling you closer, the hesitation dissolved.

she kissed you back with a fervor that made your pulse quicken, her fingers curling into the fabric as if she couldn’t bear to let go. the soft press of her lips against yours deepened, growing more insistent, more desperate. the confined space of the car seemed to shrink around you, the world outside fading into irrelevance.

you pulled back slightly, just enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against hers. “you sure you want this?” you murmured, your voice husky.

her answer came without hesitation. “always.”

the way she looked at you—eyes dark and filled with something you couldn’t quite put into words—made your resolve snap. your lips found hers again, more demanding this time, and she met you with equal intensity. her hands roamed up your chest, and you couldn’t help but let out a low groan as she tugged you impossibly closer.

your hand slid down to her waist, pulling her into your lap. the new position made her gasp softly against your mouth, her fingers clutching at your shoulders for balance. your lips trailed down to her jaw, then to the delicate curve of her neck, where you pressed open-mouthed kisses that left her trembling.

her breath came in short, uneven bursts, her fingers threading through your hair as you nipped lightly at her collarbone. “we shouldn’t…” she started, though her voice lacked conviction.

“we’re alone,” you murmured against her skin, your voice rough. “no one’s going to know.”

her laughter was soft, breathy, as though she couldn’t quite believe how reckless you were. but instead of pulling away, she tilted her head, giving you more access. her body pressed flush against yours, and the heat between you was almost overwhelming.

you didn’t push further, knowing the setting wasn’t ideal, but the way your hands roamed her back, and the way her lips found yours again, made it clear that neither of you wanted this moment to end.

when you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your faces flushed and your eyes locked in a shared understanding. sana’s lips curled into a small, satisfied smile, her jealousy from earlier entirely forgotten.

“you’re lucky i love you,” she teased, her voice light but filled with meaning.

you grinned, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “i’m the lucky one,” you said softly, leaning in to press a final kiss to her forehead.

the ride back was quieter, but the tension between you was undeniable. you knew this wouldn’t be the end of the conversation—or the night.

-----

a/n — my girl.

[zylokv]

a vow undone. — a series

synopsis — an arranged marriage ties myoui mina to the reader, but a hidden secret threatens their fragile bond. as the truth surfaces years later, they must face betrayal, unexpected alliances, and the struggle to rebuild trust.

pairing — myoui mina x reader.

disclaimer ! — this story contains themes of infidelity, toxic family dynamics, and angst balanced with moments of reconciliation and growth. before diving into this story, i want to make it clear that i am not glamorizing toxic relationships, infidelity, or abusive family dynamics. additionally, the portrayal of the idols in this story is entirely fictional and does not reflect their real personalities or lives.

status — complete.

part one — a deal of convenience.

synopsis - caught in an arranged marriage with the cold and calculating myoui mina, a reluctant heir must navigate the world of power, family expectations, and a growing attraction that neither of them wanted.

part two — the early mistake.

synopsis - the distance with mina seems to disappear when her walls starts to crumble, a switch from her old personality?

part three — flash from the past

synopsis - a new page in mina's book.

part four — key to chaos

synopsis - revelation at its finest.

part five — vow undone.

synopsis - the betrayal hits harder when it comes from someone you thought had your back.

part six — when does it end?

synopsis - a series of misfortune.

part seven — over my dead body, jennie.

synopsis - till death do you part, right? why does it feel like you're the only one that fulfilled that vow.

special part — time of death. i love you.

synopsis - for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.

‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎date started ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎12/27/24

‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎date ended ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎01/25/25

kino signing out :)

[zylokv]

TIME OF DEATH, I LOVE YOU. — myoui mina

❝ you're my spouse on paper, however you're not my responsibility.❞

synopsis — for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.

word count ! — 14k

— myoui mina x reader !

notice — heavily inspired by @neoplatinum, aswell as cozuzi and queen of tears.

disclaimer ! — this story is a work of fiction. the portrayal of characters, events, and relationships does not reflect the real lives or personalities of any individuals mentioned. themes of infidelity and emotional conflict are explored, but the intention is not to glamorize toxic behavior.

series masterlist !

SPECIAL CHAPTER !

the scene was a blur of white coats and red streaks, of urgent voices calling out numbers and instructions that mina couldn’t process. her focus stayed on you, pale and unmoving on the stretcher as paramedics pushed you through the hospital corridors. every step felt like a nightmare she couldn’t wake from, her breath hitching with each glance at the blood staining your shoulder, your shirt, and the gurney beneath you.

the oxygen mask over your face rose and fell with shallow breaths, a frail sign of life that both comforted and terrified her. mina’s trembling hand gripped the edge of the stretcher, running to keep up as they wheeled you toward the emergency room. her legs felt like they could give out at any moment, but she didn’t let go. she couldn’t.

her hand clung to the edge of the stretcher, her knuckles bone-white against the metal as she ran to keep up. her legs threatened to give out with each step, but she refused to let go. every glance at you—your face pale and smeared with blood, the oxygen mask pressing against your lips—felt like a stab to her chest.

she hadn’t realized her tears were falling until they dripped onto your arm, mingling with the streaks of red already there.

“move aside,” someone said, reaching for her arm, but she jerked away, her voice sharp and broken. “no. just a moment.”

the stretcher slowed briefly as they reached the emergency room doors, and mina leaned over you, her breath catching as she studied your face. you were slipping away—she could feel it. your eyelids fluttered weakly, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. the sight was unbearable.

“you’re okay,” she whispered, though her voice cracked on the words. she forced herself to speak, her tears falling faster now. her breath hitched as she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. “i’m here. i’ll be here when you wake up.”

usually you'd be able to reassure her, not this time. her heart felt like it shattered all over again.

“why?” she choked out, her voice breaking under the weight of her grief. “why do you always have to be the hero? why do you always put yourself in harm’s way? don’t you see what you’re doing to me?”

she cupped your face with trembling hands, her fingers slick with your blood. “you don’t get to leave me. not this time. not again.”

her voice cracked as she lowered her forehead to yours, her tears slipping down her cheeks to stain your skin. “you’re going to wake up. you’re going to see me, and i’ll be here. i promise. i’ll be here.”

her words faltered, and for a moment, her mind was dragged back to that day—to the cold hospital corridors, the shouting voices, and the sight of you being taken from her while she stood helplessly, screaming your name. she remembered the desperation, the guilt, the agony of not being able to stay by your side.

not again.

this time, she wouldn’t let them take you from her. she wouldn’t let you wake up to somebody else.

the stretcher began to move again, slipping from her grasp as the nurses rushed to wheel you through the double doors. mina reached out, her hands shaking as if trying to hold onto you, to tether you to her somehow.

her knees buckled as the doors slammed shut, the sound echoing in the empty hallway like a final, resounding blow.

she collapsed onto the cold tile floor, her hands clenching into fists, stained with your blood. silent sobs wracked her body, her chest heaving with the weight of her despair. her tears dripped onto the floor, mixing with the crimson streaks that marked the path you had taken.

“please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “please, don’t leave me. not this time.”

but the hallway offered no answers, only the distant hum of machines and the haunting echo of her cries.

------

the sharp squeak of hurried footsteps echoed down the hospital corridor as your father rushed in, his coat disheveled, his tie hastily loosened. his eyes darted around, searching desperately until they landed on her—mina, slumped against the cold tile wall, her hands trembling in her lap, smeared with blood that wasn’t hers.

“mina,” his voice broke as he approached, his usually composed demeanor shattered by panic. he crouched in front of her, his hands hovering uncertainly before finally gripping her shoulders. “what happened? where are they?”

mina looked up at him, her face pale and streaked with tears, her lips quivering as if the words refused to leave her. she opened her mouth, but all that came out was a choked sob.

“mina,” he pressed, his voice trembling, desperate for answers. “did… did they—” he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, but his eyes searched hers for confirmation, for denial, for something. “the cops… they said they got shot. is it true?”

mina’s head dipped low, her hair falling over her face as she began to shake. “i… i’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, cracking with each word. “it’s my fault. they… they took the bullet for me.”

your father froze, the weight of her words sinking into him like a leaden anchor. his face contorted, a mix of pain and disbelief flashing across his features. “they… they took a bullet for you?” he echoed, his voice strained.

mina nodded, her tears falling freely now. “i told them— i didn't want them... i—” her voice broke entirely, and she buried her face in her bloodied hands, the guilt crushing her like a wave. “i’m so sorry. i couldn’t stop them. i couldn’t—”

your father’s throat tightened as he watched her crumble in front of him. for a moment, he was silent, his own emotions warring between anger, fear, and overwhelming grief. but when he saw the despair etched into mina’s face, his expression softened.

“mina,” he said gently, his voice thick with emotion as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “this isn’t your fault. do you hear me? this isn’t your fault.”

she shook her head violently, her sobs growing louder. “it is. it is. if it weren’t for me, they wouldn’t have—”

“stop.” his voice was firm but kind, cutting through her spiraling thoughts. “listen to me. they made a choice—a reckless, selfless choice. but that’s who they are. they would never let anything happen to the people they care about. you know that.”

mina looked up at him, her face a mess of tears and anguish. he offered her a shaky smile, his own eyes glistening. “they’re strong,” he said, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his own fear. “and they’re fighting right now. we have to believe that.”

just then, hurried footsteps filled the corridor, and mina’s parents appeared, their faces etched with worry. her mother stopped abruptly, her hand flying to her mouth as she saw her daughter—her usually composed, graceful daughter—reduced to a trembling, crying figure on the hospital floor.

“mina…” her father’s voice wavered as he approached, his brows furrowing deeply. he crouched beside her, his large hand resting on her shoulder. “what happened?”

her mother knelt beside her, cupping her face with both hands. “mina, darling, why are you crying? what happened? tell us.”

mina looked at her parents, her tears spilling over once more as she struggled to form the words. “it’s them,” she whispered hoarsely. “they… they got shot.”

her mother’s gasp echoed through the hallway, and her father’s face darkened, his hand tightening slightly on her shoulder.

“they… they took the bullet for me,” mina admitted, her voice cracking again. “they saved me, and now they’re in there, and i don’t even know if—” she broke down entirely, sobbing into her hands as her mother wrapped her in a tight embrace.

her father glanced at your father, his expression hardening. “how could this happen? how could they let it get this far?”

your father sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his own grief. “i don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “but we’re all here now. that’s what matters.”

mina’s sobs filled the hallway, a raw, guttural sound that shook everyone to their core. her mother stroked her hair, whispering soothing words, while her father placed a protective arm around both of them.

for the first time in a long while, mina allowed herself to be vulnerable, to let her emotions consume her without restraint. and in that moment, surrounded by her parents and yours, the cold hospital corridor became a place of shared anguish, silent prayers, and fragile hope. -----

the sterile, blinding light of the operating room illuminated the tense faces of the surgical team. the air was thick with urgency, the steady beeping of the heart monitor providing a fragile sense of stability as they worked.

“patient has a gunshot wound to the shoulder,” the lead surgeon announced, his voice firm but calm. “entry wound is clean, but there’s considerable damage to surrounding tissue and suspected involvement of the subclavian artery. prepare for vascular repair. we need to stop the bleeding now.”

the team moved with precision, instruments clinking as they were passed back and forth. a nurse suctioned away the pooling blood, revealing the torn, reddened flesh of the shoulder.

“blood pressure dropping—80 over 50,” a nurse called out, her voice tight with concern.

“let’s move! i need better visualization,” the surgeon barked, his gloved hands steady as he worked to locate the bullet.

the anesthesiologist glanced at the monitors, adjusting the flow of oxygen. “heart rate’s steady for now, but keep an eye on the blood loss.”

another nurse moved swiftly to hang a fresh unit of blood, the crimson liquid flowing into your veins in a desperate attempt to keep your body stable.

“there it is,” the surgeon said, his voice sharp with focus. with delicate movements, he used forceps to carefully grasp the bullet, lodged dangerously close to the subclavian artery. “this is going to be tricky. if we nick the artery…” he trailed off, the implication heavy in the room.

the team held their collective breath as the surgeon maneuvered the bullet free, a small, jagged piece of metal now gleaming under the harsh surgical lights.

“got it,” he announced, dropping the bullet into a metal tray with a soft clink.

a brief sigh of relief rippled through the room, but it was short-lived.

“massive bleeding from the artery,” another surgeon called out. “clamp! now!”

a vascular clamp was quickly applied, and the lead surgeon’s hands moved deftly to repair the torn artery. sutures were placed with precision, the bleeding gradually slowing as the repair took hold.

“pressure’s stabilizing,” the anesthesiologist reported, her voice lighter. “but they’re not out of the woods yet.”

just as the tension seemed to ease, the heart monitor emitted a sudden, piercing tone—a flatline.

“cardiac arrest!” the anesthesiologist shouted, her hands flying to adjust the oxygen flow.

the room erupted into chaos.

“start compressions, now!” the lead surgeon barked, stepping back to let the nurse press down on your chest with calculated force.

the defibrillator was rolled closer, its cold, clinical whine rising as it charged.

“charging to 200 joules,” the technician announced, their hands moving deftly to attach the pads.

the team collectively held their breath. “clear!”

a jolt coursed through your body, momentarily lifting your chest off the table. all eyes flicked to the monitor, desperate for a sign.

nothing.

“no response,” the anesthesiologist confirmed, her voice tight.

“charge to 300. we’re not losing them!” the surgeon growled, his determination cutting through the fear that gripped the room.

“charging to 300. clear!”

the second shock surged through your body, the room eerily silent except for the sound of the defibrillator and the flatline that still screamed from the monitor.

“come on, fight!” the nurse performing compressions shouted, her voice cracking.

the surgeon’s hands clenched into fists as he stared at the monitor, willing it to flicker back to life.

but it didn’t.

“one milligram of epinephrine,” the anesthesiologist called, injecting the medication into your IV line in a last-ditch effort.

they waited, the flatline echoing in their ears, time stretching unbearably.

the surgeon’s voice was heavy, nearly broken. “resume compressions. we go again.”

the camera of your life seemed to pan away, leaving the sterile lights of the operating room and the frenzied team blurred in the distance. the cold, unrelenting sound of the flatline remained, cutting through the quiet despair. -----

the waiting room had grown eerily quiet, save for the muffled hum of hospital machinery and the occasional announcement over the intercom. mina had finally fallen asleep on one of the stiff chairs, her head resting awkwardly against the armrest. her parents and your father sat nearby, their exhaustion etched into their faces.

your father leaned back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his face before reaching into the inner pocket of his coat. when his hand emerged, it held a small, slightly worn photo, the corners bent from years of handling. he stared at it for a moment, a faint, wistful smile tugging at his lips before he slid it across the table toward mina’s parents.

“you know,” he began, his voice low and soft, “they were always fearless, even as a kid. this was taken during their swimming lessons—back when they were training for lifeguard certification. they were only seven, but already saved a kid at that age.”

mina’s mother picked up the photo, her brows knitting together as she studied the image. in it, a young version of you stood at the edge of the water, goggles pushed up onto your forehead, your grin wide and confident. the waves crashed behind them, but you didn’t seem to care—fearless, just as your father had said.

“this beach…” mina’s father murmured, leaning closer to get a better look. his eyes narrowed slightly, as though he was trying to place it. “it looks familiar.”

your father nodded, his smile tinged with nostalgia. “it’s a small cove down south. we used to visit every summer when they were younger. they loved the water—spent more time swimming than on the sand. always said they want to save more people some day.”

mina’s mother’s expression suddenly shifted, her lips parting as if a long-buried memory had just surfaced. she glanced at her husband, her voice trembling slightly. “do you remember, darling? that summer… the beach we used to visit every year when mina was a child?”

mina’s father straightened, his eyes widening as realization dawned. “of course. we went there every year until she was about six or seven. but…” his voice trailed off, his brow furrowing. “there was that one time—”

“when she almost drowned,” mina’s mother finished, her voice barely above a whisper. she clutched the photo tighter, her hand trembling. “she was playing in the shallows, but the tide came in so fast. we couldn’t reach her in time. she was pulled under…” her voice broke, and she glanced at her husband, tears welling in her eyes.

“but someone saved her,” mina’s father added, his tone growing steadier. “a child. they pulled her out of the water and brought her back to the shore. by the time we got to her, the child was gone. we never even got their name.”

your father’s eyes sharpened, and he leaned forward. “you thought it wasn't a lifeguard?”

mina’s father nodded. “yes, they had short hair and goggles. we assumed…” he trailed off, glancing back at the photo.

“it was bambam,” mina’s mother said suddenly, her voice tinged with certainty. “at least, that’s what we thought. he’d gone to the beach with his family the same summer. we assumed he was the one who saved her because she mentioned playing with him that day. that’s why they became so close afterward—she believed he’d saved her life.”

your father’s lips parted slightly, his gaze flicking back to the photo. “but it wasn’t bambam,” he murmured, his voice laced with quiet disbelief keeping the information to himself.

your father’s gaze sharpened, and he leaned forward, his breath catching in his throat. “how old was mina?”

“six,” her mother replied, her voice trembling as she looked at the photo again. “it was that beach. i’m sure of it now. and the child who saved her… they had the same goggles.” she said smiling as she points to the picture of you wearing your goggles

the weight of her words settled over the room like a thick fog. your father exhaled sharply, his hand running through his hair. “so it was them,” he murmured, almost to himself.

but before anyone could say more, the sound of hurried footsteps and urgent voices echoed down the hallway. the three of them turned toward the source of the commotion, their conversation forgotten in an instant.

“we need extra hands in OR-2!” a nurse called out, her voice tight with urgency as she pushed a gurney past the waiting area.

mina stirred at the noise, her eyes fluttering open just as her parents stood. “what’s happening?” she asked groggily, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

her mother rushed to her side, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “it’s nothing, sweetheart. just stay here and rest.”

but mina’s eyes narrowed, her gaze darting toward the direction the nurses had gone. “no,” she said, her voice firm despite the hoarseness. she stood abruptly, swaying slightly before steadying herself. “it’s them, isn’t it? something’s wrong.”

“mina, wait—” her father started, but she was already moving, her footsteps unsteady but determined as she followed the voices.

when she reached the double doors leading to the emergency room, they slammed shut in front of her, the red “authorized personnel only” sign glaring back at her like a cruel taunt. she pounded on the door, her fists hitting the cold metal with a desperation that matched the tears streaming down her face.

“let me in!” she cried, her voice breaking as her parents caught up to her, trying to pull her back. “please, let me in! i need to see them!”

“mina,” her mother pleaded, wrapping her arms around her daughter and pulling her away from the door. “you can’t go in there. they’re doing everything they can. you have to trust them.”

but mina shook her head violently, her sobs tearing through her chest. “i can’t just wait out here! i can’t—” her voice cracked, and she slumped against her mother, her strength giving out as the weight of everything came crashing down.

behind the doors, the muffled chaos of the emergency room continued, a cruel reminder of how close you were to slipping away. and all mina could do was cry, her tears soaking into her mother’s shoulder as her father held them both, his own face etched with a pain he couldn’t hide. -----

FLASHBACK

the sun hung high in the cloudless sky, bathing the beach in golden light. the sound of waves crashing against the shore mixed with the laughter of children playing tag and the whistle blows from the lifeguard stations scattered along the coast.

you were only seven, but the confidence you carried made you seem older. the red lifeguard shirt you wore was oversized, practically swallowing your small frame, but you wore it like a badge of honor. you were in training, after all—a junior lifeguard, part of the summer program for kids who wanted to help keep the beach safe.

“all right, everyone, focus!” your coach, a burly man with a booming voice, called out as he demonstrated CPR techniques on a dummy. the group of kids around you nodded earnestly, some practicing the motions on their own.

you were about to ask a question when a piercing scream shattered the idyllic scene.

“mina! someone, help! my daughter—she’s in the water!”

your head snapped toward the sound. a woman stood at the edge of the shore, her hands clutching her face in sheer panic. her cries were frantic, desperate, as she pointed toward the deeper waters.

“please, help her! she’s drowning!”

the beach seemed to freeze for a moment before erupting into chaos. a man—you assumed it was her husband—was already sprinting into the water, his movements frantic as he searched for his daughter. lifeguards nearby grabbed their equipment, blowing whistles and shouting orders to clear the area.

“stay put, all of you!” your coach barked, his eyes narrowing at your group. “this is no place for kids. the professionals will handle it.”

but your feet were already moving before the words registered. adrenaline coursed through your veins, and you couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.

“hey! stop!” one of the older lifeguards shouted as you tore past him, but you didn’t listen. your gaze was locked on the water, on the faint glimpse of something—or someone—struggling against the current.

the waves grew stronger the farther you went, and the saltwater stung your eyes, but you pressed on. you could barely make out the small, flailing figure just ahead.

mina.

she was six, her tiny arms thrashing as the tide pulled her under. her face would surface for a fleeting moment before disappearing again, her cries muffled by the roar of the ocean.

your heart pounded as you pushed through the water, your breath labored but determined. the world around you seemed to blur—her mother’s screams, the shouts from the lifeguards, the crashing waves—all of it faded into the background.

you reached out, your fingers brushing against her arm just as another wave dragged her under.

“got you,” you muttered under your breath, lunging forward and grabbing her firmly. her body was cold, her movements weak, but she was still breathing—barely.

“hold on,” you said, though you weren’t sure if she could hear you.

with every ounce of strength you had, you kicked against the current, pulling her toward the shore. the weight of her small frame and the force of the waves made it harder than anything you’d ever done before, but you refused to let go.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, your feet found the sandy bottom. you dragged her the rest of the way, collapsing onto the wet sand as the lifeguards rushed toward you.

you barely registered the commotion—the parents crying out, the lifeguards checking her vitals. all you knew was that she was breathing, her tiny chest rising and falling shakily.

“kid, what were you thinking?” your coach’s voice cut through the haze, equal parts furious and relieved as he grabbed your shoulder.

“i… i couldn’t just watch,” you said, your voice trembling but firm.

he stared at you for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “go back to the group. now.”

you glanced back at the girl—mina, though you didn’t know her name at the time—as her parents gathered her into their arms, tears streaming down their faces. her mother held her close, while her father looked up at the lifeguards, his gratitude spilling out in hurried words.

you didn’t stay to hear it. slipping away quietly, you returned to your group, your coach’s sharp gaze following you the entire time.

it wasn’t until much later that you realized you hadn’t even introduced yourself. maybe fate will bring you back together and you can save her life again? -----

the morgue was unbearably cold, the kind of chill that seeped into bones and refused to leave. the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting an almost sickly hue over the room.

on the steel table, a body lay motionless, shrouded in a pristine white sheet. the stillness in the room was deafening, broken only by the subdued murmurs of two doctors standing at the foot of the table.

“no pulse,” one of them said quietly, their voice flat yet tinged with exhaustion. their gloved hand slipped away from beneath the sheet, as if reluctant to confirm the obvious.

“it’s over,” the other replied, their tone heavy with resignation as they glanced at the monitor nearby. the jagged peaks of a heartbeat were absent, replaced by an unwavering flatline.

“time of death…” the first doctor paused, their gaze lowering to the clipboard in their hand. “1:43 a.m.” the words hung in the air, suffocating, final.

the second doctor let out a small sigh, setting down the stethoscope they’d been holding. their hands moved to remove the sheet, revealing just enough of the figure beneath to confirm details for the report. the stark contrast of lifeless pale skin against the sterile steel table felt almost too vivid under the artificial light.

“they lost too much blood,” one of them murmured, more to themselves than anyone else. “there was nothing else we could’ve done.”

there was no reply. only the faint scratching of a pen against paper as the first doctor began documenting the events, their writing meticulous and methodical, but their expression betrayed the weight of the moment.

“what a shame,” the second doctor finally muttered, shaking their head. “so young.”

the first doctor nodded absently, flipping to the patient file and double-checking details for the report. their fingers lingered on the edge of the page before finally turning it.

there, in stark, clinical handwriting, was the name:

kim jennie.

-----

the white walls of the waiting room seemed to close in as time stretched unbearably thin. mina sat with her head buried in her hands, her trembling fingers curling into her hair. her parents sat beside her, silent but tense, their eyes fixed on the swinging double doors that separated them from whatever fate was being decided beyond.

your father stood, pacing back and forth, his hands fidgeting with the edges of his coat. his usual calm and composed demeanor was nowhere to be found. instead, he looked as though he were barely holding himself together, the strain of the situation etched deeply into his face.

then, the double doors burst open.

two surgeons and a nurse emerged, their scrubs streaked with crimson, their faces pale and worn with exhaustion. the lead surgeon, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a sharp, clinical gaze, scanned the room briefly before stepping forward.

“mr. and myoui family,” he began, his voice calm but laced with a weight that made the air in the room grow heavier.

mina shot up from her seat, her parents following suit, while your father froze mid-step. the sight of the blood-streaked gloves made their stomachs churn.

“how are they?” your father asked, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.

the surgeon pulled off his gloves slowly, methodically, the motion almost maddeningly deliberate. “the situation was... critical,” he started, his eyes meeting theirs, but his expression gave away nothing.

mina felt her knees buckle, her mother’s hand quickly steadying her. “please,” mina’s voice cracked, raw and desperate. “just tell us. are they... are they okay?”

the surgeon let out a slow breath, glancing briefly at the others before continuing. “we encountered severe complications—”

mina’s heart dropped, the room spinning.

“—but we managed to stabilize them in time.”

it took a moment for the words to sink in. your father blinked, as though trying to process what he had just heard. “they’re... they’re okay?” he asked, his voice trembling.

the surgeon nodded. “they lost a significant amount of blood, but the bullet missed any major arteries. we were able to stop the internal bleeding and repair the damage. they’re not out of the woods yet, but they’re alive and stable. they’ll need close monitoring and time to recover.”

mina let out a strangled sob, her hands flying to her mouth as tears streamed down her face. her parents wrapped their arms around her, relief flooding through them in waves.

your father staggered back, his legs giving way as he sank into a chair. his hands covered his face, his shoulders shaking as the tension that had gripped him finally broke.

“can we see them?” mina’s father asked, his voice thick with emotion.

the surgeon hesitated, glancing back at the doors. “not yet. they’re still in recovery, and we need to monitor them closely for the next few hours. but i assure you, we’ll let you know as soon as they can have visitors.”

mina nodded, her tears unstoppable but now tinged with relief.

the surgeon offered a small, reassuring smile, though his exhaustion was evident. “they’re lucky,” he added, his voice soft. “it was a close call, but they’re strong. they fought through it.”

as he turned and walked back through the doors, the weight in the room began to lift, replaced by a fragile sense of hope.

mina collapsed back into her seat, her body trembling with the aftershocks of fear and relief. “thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, though she wasn’t sure who she was thanking—the surgeon, the universe, or whoever had been listening to her silent prayers.

the waiting room fell quiet again, but this time, the silence was different. it wasn’t the oppressive weight of dread but the tentative stillness of hope, fragile and delicate, yet unwavering.

-----

mina sat slumped in the chair by your bed, her face buried in her hands. the hospital room was suffocatingly quiet, save for the constant beeping of the heart monitor. her hair was a mess, dark strands sticking to her tear-streaked cheeks.

"you know, you could at least twitch or something," she muttered, her voice muffled. "just to let me know you’re still in there. but no, you have to be dramatic about it."

she let out a humorless laugh, looking up at you with red, swollen eyes. "you’re probably loving this, aren’t you? making me sit here, worrying myself sick while you take a nap. typical."

she reached out to brush a strand of hair off your forehead, her fingers lingering for a moment. "you always were stubborn," she murmured, her voice softening. "but this is just cruel."

time passed in a blur, the hospital room becoming a constant in her life. her parents had tried coaxing her to leave, even for just a few hours, but she refused. the thought of not being there when you woke up—because you would wake up—was unbearable.

hiro had visited once, his tiny voice breaking through the heavy silence. “mama, when will they wake up?” he’d asked, his big eyes filled with worry.

mina knelt to his level, forcing a smile despite the lump in her throat. "soon, sweetheart," she said, brushing a hand through his hair. "they’re just resting."

but as soon as he left with momo, mina’s resolve crumbled again. she refused food, refused sleep, refused to leave your side. her parents had to practically force her to drink water.

"you look like a zombie, mina," sana had said, plopping down in the chair opposite her. "honestly, if they wake up and see you like this, they might pass out again."

mina had glared at her, too tired to come up with a witty retort. "thanks for the pep talk, sana."

"anytime," sana had replied, leaning back in her chair. "but seriously, eat something. you’re not helping anyone by starving yourself."

now, hours later, mina was back to silently begging you to wake up. she leaned over the bed, her hands gripping the rails as tears welled up in her eyes.

"if you can hear me," she whispered, her voice shaking, "just… just give me something. a twitch, a blink, anything. please."

suddenly, your fingers twitched. mina froze, her heart leaping into her throat.

"no way," she breathed, staring at your hand like it had just performed a magic trick. then your eyes fluttered open, and she gasped, stumbling back so hard she almost tripped over the chair.

"you’re awake," she whispered, her voice trembling. she turned, ready to run out and call for a doctor, but a weak tug on her wrist stopped her.

mina turned back, her eyes wide as you held onto her. your breathing mask muffled your words, but she could still make them out. "are you… okay?"

she blinked, her jaw dropping. "am i okay?" she repeated, her voice rising in disbelief. "you almost died, and you’re asking if i’m okay?"

your lips curved into the faintest smile. "you look like… you haven’t slept in days."

"because i haven’t!" she snapped, though the tears streaming down her face betrayed her anger. "do you think I’ve been here doing yoga? i’ve been losing my mind, waiting for you to wake up!"

you squeezed her hand weakly, your eyes soft despite the exhaustion clouding them. "sorry… didn’t mean to worry you."

"oh, you didn’t mean to—" she cut herself off with a shaky laugh, her emotions swinging wildly between relief and frustration. she wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. "you’re impossible."

your smile faded as you gazed at her, your voice barely above a whisper. "mina… are you okay?"

her breath caught, her hands trembling as she gripped the bed rails. "why are you worried about me?" she choked out, her voice cracking. "you’re the one who almost—"

she couldn’t finish the sentence, the weight of it too much to bear. instead, she collapsed into the chair beside you, her head resting against your arm as her tears soaked into the hospital gown.

"i love you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "and you’re not allowed to scare me like this again. do you hear me? never again."

-----

you leaned back against the headboard, exhaustion sinking deep into your bones. the machines around you hummed softly, their steady rhythm the only sound in the quiet hospital room. mina sat at the edge of your bed, her freshly washed hair falling over her shoulders, her fingers twisting the edge of her sweater.

she hadn’t spoken much all day, but you could feel the storm brewing inside her. when she finally broke the silence, her voice was trembling, barely above a whisper.

"this is all my fault."

you turned your head, your brows furrowing. "mina—"

"don’t," she interrupted, her voice sharp and cracking all at once. she looked up, her eyes rimmed red, tears glistening like they were ready to fall at any moment. "don’t tell me it’s not. if i hadn’t… if i hadn’t done what i did, none of this would’ve happened."

you stared at her, unsure of how to respond. the weight of her guilt was suffocating, and you could feel it pressing down on both of you.

"you wouldn’t be here," she continued, her voice breaking. "you wouldn’t be lying in this bed, hooked up to these machines, barely able to breathe on your own. i did this to you."

"mina, stop," you said softly, your voice carrying the kind of weariness that only comes from surviving something that should’ve ended you.

she ignored you, her tears spilling over as she buried her face in her hands. "i ruined everything. i destroyed us. and now… now you’re suffering because of me."

your chest ached—not just from the physical pain but from the sight of her breaking down in front of you. you reached out, your hand weak and trembling, and placed it over hers. "mina, listen to me."

she shook her head, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. "how can you even look at me? after everything i did… i betrayed you. i broke your trust. and now i’m watching you pay the price for my mistakes."

"mina," you said, your voice firmer this time. she stopped, her tear-filled eyes meeting yours, and you could see the sheer depth of her guilt staring back at you.

"this isn’t just your fault," you said quietly. her eyes widened, and you pressed on before she could interrupt. "it’s mine too."

her mouth opened, but no words came out. you took a shaky breath, willing yourself to say what you’d been avoiding.

"before the accident… even before i lost my memory, i forgot something important. i forgot how much you mean to me. i let myself get so blindsided by what you did that i decided to forget how much i loved you. i forgot to be there for you… through thick and thin, like we promised."

mina’s breath hitched, her hands flying to her mouth as if the words had physically struck her.

"i convinced myself that it didn’t matter anymore," you continued, your voice cracking. "that we didn’t matter. and i let that anger consume me. i stopped fighting for us, mina. i stopped loving you."

she let out a choked sob, shaking her head in disbelief. "no… you didn’t deserve this. none of this is your fault."

"it is," you said, your voice trembling. "because love isn’t just about being there when it’s easy. it’s about being there when it’s hard—when it hurts. and i wasn’t. i let my pride and my pain get in the way of us."

"but i pushed you away," she whispered, her tears streaming freely now. "i made the mistake. i broke us."

"and i let us stay broken," you said, your voice soft but resolute. "mina, we both failed. we hurt each other. but we’re still here. we’re still breathing. and that has to mean something."

her shoulders trembled as she wiped at her tears, her voice shaking. "how can you still say that? after everything i’ve done… how can you still believe in us?"

"because we made a promise," you said, your gaze locking with hers. "through sickness and health, right? through thick and thin. i forgot that before, but i’m not forgetting it now."

mina let out a shaky laugh, the sound tinged with disbelief and sorrow. "you’re too good for me," she whispered, her hands reaching out to cup your face. "you always have been."

"and you’re too stubborn to give up," you said, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite the tears in your eyes. "so let’s stop pretending like this is the end. we’ve got too much left to fight for."

she stared at you, her lips trembling as fresh tears spilled over. then, slowly, she leaned in, her forehead pressing against yours.

"i’m sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. "i’m so sorry for everything."

"me too," you said, your voice barely audible. "but we’re here now. and that’s what matters."

for a moment, the weight of everything—of the past, the pain, the mistakes—lifted just enough for hope to shine through. and for the first time in what felt like forever, you both allowed yourselves to believe in the possibility of something better.

-----

you were propped up on the hospital bed, still stiff and sore from the accident. mina sat on the chair beside you, her eyes glued to her phone as she scrolled through some article. the quiet hum of the machines filled the room, and you were grateful for the rare moment of peace.

“you look like you’re trying not to fall asleep,” you muttered, breaking the silence.

mina glanced at you, her brow arching. “and you look like you’re trying not to breathe too hard. what’s your point?”

you snorted, instantly regretting it as a sharp pain shot through your chest. you winced, clutching your side. “ow. damn it, mina, don’t make me laugh.”

mina’s teasing demeanor vanished instantly. “hey, are you okay?” she asked, leaning closer. "i didn't even say anything funny!"

“your face is funny enough,” you shot back weakly, smirking.

mina rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. “wow, the audacity of someone who can’t even sit up straight without looking like they’re about to pass out.”

despite the pain, you chuckled again, wincing as you did. “stop, seriously. my body hurts. i think even my eyelashes are sore.”

mina bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her. “fine, fine. no more jokes. you’re too fragile right now.”

“fragile? i’m indestructible,” you retorted, though your grimace immediately undermined your words.

she shook her head, finally letting out a laugh—soft, warm, and entirely unintentional. the sound was enough to make your chest feel lighter, even if it physically hurt.

“you’re impossible,” she said, shaking her head fondly.

“and you’re still here,” you replied, your voice softer now.

before she could respond, a stifled noise echoed from the hallway. neither of you paid it much attention, too caught up in your exchange.

“fine,” mina said, crossing her arms dramatically. “i’ll just sit here and be silent, then. you can entertain yourself.”

“finally,” you said, leaning back against the pillows, trying to hide your grin.

she stared at you for a few seconds, then muttered, “you’re insufferable.”

you couldn’t help it—you laughed again, only to immediately groan in pain. “stop it, seriously,” you said, wincing.

“stop what? i’m not even trying!” mina said defensively, though the smile on her face betrayed her amusement.

what neither of you realized was that you weren’t alone. just outside the slightly ajar door stood mina’s parents, your father, momo, and sana, all watching silently with amused expressions.

“look at them,” mina’s dad whispered, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“they’re falling in love all over again,” your dad added, his voice tinged with warmth.

“ugh, it’s so cute it hurts,” sana said quietly, clutching her chest dramatically.

momo, on the other hand, looked completely indifferent to the emotional scene unfolding in front of her. “wait, my bag’s still inside,” she muttered, squinting at the room.

“seriously, momo?” sana groaned, smacking her arm lightly. “love is literally in the air, and you’re worried about your bag?”

“well, it’s a nice bag,” momo muttered defensively, crossing her arms.

“let’s give them some space,” mina’s dad said, smiling as he placed a gentle hand on his wife’s shoulder. “we’ve got some time to grab a meal anyway. i’m sure they could use the quiet.”

“yes! food!” momo’s eyes lit up, her previous concerns about the bag instantly forgotten. “where are we going?”

sana rolled her eyes but followed the group as they began to leave, herding momo along like an unruly child.

“don’t forget your bag,” sana muttered sarcastically.

“oh, thanks for reminding me!” momo chirped, turning back briefly before sana dragged her away.

“sorry about her. she’s been like this since middle school.” sana mumbles shaking her head in disapproval

“have not!” momo protested, but sana didn’t let her finish, dragging her out of the hall.

mina’s mom stifled a laugh, shaking her head. “let’s leave them alone. they deserve this moment.”

with that, the group quietly stepped away, though not without sana muttering something about momo’s terrible sense of priorities.

inside the room, completely unaware of your guy's audience, you and mina finally fell into a comfortable silence. as the door clicked shut, you glanced at her, watching the soft smile playing on her lips.

“what?” she asked, catching your gaze.

“nothing,” you replied, shaking your head. “just… thanks for being here.”

she reached out, her fingers brushing yours lightly. “where else would i be?”

the moment lingered, warm and full of unspoken words, as the world outside seemed to melt away.

love was definitely in the air.

-----

you leaned back against the headboard, finally able to sit up without wincing every two seconds. mina perched on the edge of the bed, the tray of soup balanced on her lap. she held up a spoonful, her expression somewhere between patient nurse and smug caretaker.

“okay, open up,” she said, her tone light but commanding.

you raised an eyebrow. “you know, you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“and you’re really stalling,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes playfully. “now eat before i dump this on your lap.”

you sighed dramatically, opening your mouth. the soup was warm and soothing, but you made a show of smacking your lips like a child. “wow, this is... edible.”

“oh, you did not just insult my soup,” mina said, her jaw dropping in mock offense. “you know i made this from scratch, right?”

“scratch, huh?” you teased, pretending to examine the spoon. “does ‘scratch’ mean opening a can now?”

mina gasped, setting the tray down on the bedside table. “that’s it. starve.”

you reached out, grabbing her wrist before she could retreat. “okay, okay! i take it back. it’s amazing. the best soup i’ve ever had. michelin-star worthy.”

“that’s what i thought,” she said, smirking as she picked up the spoon again.

after a few more bites, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“what’s so funny?” mina asked, eyeing you suspiciously.

“this just feels so... different,” you admitted, leaning back. “last time she tried to feed me like this it was like my body rejected her.”

mina’s eyes widened. “wait—are you serious?”

“it was jennie,” you admitted with a chuckle. “she wouldn’t stop fussing over me. i couldn’t stand it.”

mina couldn’t hold back her laughter, a soft, melodic sound that filled the room. “so you were a menace, huh?”

“a certified menace,” you confirmed, smirking. “but with you? it’s easy. comforting, even.”

her laughter faded, replaced by a soft smile that made your chest ache in a completely different way. she didn’t say anything, but her eyes spoke volumes.

“you’re full of surprises,” she said after a moment, scooping up another spoonful.

“oh, you have no idea,” you replied, leaning forward slightly.

she tilted her head. “oh? care to elaborate?”

“did you know i used to train to be a lifeguard?” you said, leaning back with a smug grin.

mina blinked. “a lifeguard? you?”

“yep. saved a couple of lives,” you said casually, as if it were no big deal.

“are you sure you didn’t just sit on the chair looking cool with sunglasses?” she teased.

“hey, i’ll have you know i was fully certified,” you said, feigning offense. “you’re looking at a hero, mina.”

she snorted, shaking her head. “all right, hero. what else?”

“well,” you said, pretending to think, “i was also a karate and boxing champion. black belt.”

mina stared at you, her jaw dropping. “are you even real?”

“and,” you continued, ignoring her disbelief, “i played a few instruments growing up. piano, guitar, drums—you name it.”

she groaned, throwing her head back. “is there anything you didn’t do?”

“i’m just answering your questions,” you said with a shrug. “oh, and i was also class president. twice.”

mina narrowed her eyes. “okay, now you’re just bragging.”

“hey, you asked,” you said, smirking.

she groaned, throwing her head back. “how am i supposed to compete with that?”

“you don’t have to,” you said, your tone softening. “you’re already perfect.”

mina froze, her cheeks turning pink. “stop being cheesy.”

“i mean it,” you said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “you’re everything, mina.”

mina paused, her hand stilling for just a moment before she let out a small laugh. “you’re just saying that because i’m feeding you.”

“no, seriously,” you said, sitting up a little more. “i feel like... i don’t know enough about you. like, really know you.”

she blinked, clearly caught off guard. “you already know plenty.”

“not really,” you said, shaking your head. “we jumped straight into this marriage without... taking the time. and i want to know everything, mina. the good, the bad, the embarrassing.”

mina hesitated, her gaze dropping to the bowl in her hands. “everything?”

“everything,” you repeated, your voice soft.

she exhaled slowly, setting the bowl down on the bedside table. “okay... but don’t laugh.”

“no promises,” you said, grinning.

she rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile on her face. “well... when i was a kid, i wanted to be a ballerina. i even took lessons for years.”

“that tracks,” you said, nodding. “you’re ridiculously graceful.”

mina’s cheeks turned pink. “yeah, well... i quit when i was thirteen. i didn’t think i was good enough.”

“that’s impossible,” you said immediately. “you’re good at everything.”

“i’m not,” she said quietly. “but thanks for thinking that.”

you frowned, leaning forward a little. “what else? tell me more.”

she bit her lip, thinking. “i used to collect plushies. like, obsessively. my entire bed was covered in them. my parents used to joke that there wasn’t room for me to sleep.”

you laughed, the image of a younger mina surrounded by plushies too adorable to handle. “do you still have them?”

“some,” she admitted, smiling. “but most of them are in storage.”

“we’re bringing them out,” you said firmly. “i want to see them all, and i want to know what you named them.”

mina laughed, a genuine, melodic sound that made your chest ache in the best way. “you’re ridiculous.”

“you married me,” you pointed out, grinning.

she shook her head, but the smile didn’t leave her face. “fine. your turn again.”

“what else do you want to know?” you asked.

she tilted her head, studying you. “what’s something embarrassing about you? something no one else knows?”

you groaned, leaning back. “you’re really gonna make me do this, huh?”

“absolutely,” she said, smirking.

“okay, fine,” you said, sighing. “when i was ten, i tried to impress this kid at school by climbing a tree. long story short, i got stuck, cried for half an hour, and had to be rescued by a fireman.”

mina burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand. “you’re kidding.”

“i wish,” you said, grinning despite yourself. “it was the most humiliating day of my life.”

“that’s amazing,” she said, still laughing. “i can’t believe you’ve been a hero and a damsel in distress.”

“hey, it’s called range,” you said, smirking.

her eyes softened, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. then, almost instinctively, you leaned forward, and she met you halfway.

the kiss was gentle at first, her lips warm against yours. but as the moment deepened, it became something more—something raw and unspoken.

when you finally pulled back, mina’s face was flushed, her eyes wide. “you... you’re supposed to be resting.”

“can’t help it,” you said, grinning. “you’re impossible to resist.”

mina buried her face in her hands, groaning. “you’re going to be the death of me.”

“better me than your soup,” you teased.

“that’s it,” she said, reaching for the tray. “i’m done feeding you.”

you laughed, grabbing her wrist again. “okay, okay! truce?”

she laughed softly, shaking her head. “you’re annoying.”

“and you’re perfect,” you said, grinning.

“stop,” she said, rolling her eyes. but the way she squeezed your hand told you she didn’t really want you to.

and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt exactly as it should.

-----

hiro climbed up on the bed with an air of determination, his tiny hands gripping the edge of the blanket as he hauled himself up beside you. “are you still sick?” he asked, tilting his head, his round eyes wide with concern.

“not sick, just tired,” you replied, ruffling his hair gently. “but i’m getting better, thanks to you and your mom.”

“me?” hiro asked, pointing to himself.

“yeah, you,” you said, grinning. “your hugs are magical, didn’t you know?”

his face lit up. “i have magic hugs?”

“the best ones,” you said, pulling him closer for a quick squeeze.

hiro giggled, settling in beside you. “mommy said i can stay for a little while. can i show you something?”

“of course,” you said, leaning back against the headboard. “what do you got?”

hiro pulled out a small stack of drawings from behind his back, spreading them out proudly on your lap. “i drew these! this one is you, and this one is mommy, and this one is me!”

you picked up the drawing of yourself, smiling at the colorful stick figure wearing a cape. “you made me a superhero?”

“because you are!” he said earnestly. “you saved mommy and me.”

your chest tightened, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “thanks, buddy. this is the best drawing I’ve ever seen.”

“really?” he beamed.

“really,” you said, reaching for another drawing. “what’s this one?”

“that’s us at the beach!” hiro said excitedly. “we’re building a sandcastle, and mommy is bringing us snacks!”

“sounds like a perfect day,” you said, smiling. “we’ll have to make that happen when I’m better.”

hiro’s eyes lit up. “promise?”

“promise,” you said, holding out your pinky. he linked his tiny pinky with yours, sealing the deal.

after a few more minutes of showing you his artwork and telling you elaborate stories about his drawings, hiro started to yawn.

“getting sleepy?” you asked, brushing his hair back gently.

“no,” he mumbled, but his eyelids were already drooping.

“come here,” you said, shifting slightly to make room for him. he curled up beside you, resting his head on your chest.

within minutes, his breathing evened out, and you realized he’d fallen asleep. you couldn’t help but smile, your hand resting lightly on his back.

you watched him for a moment, your chest tightening with a warmth you couldn’t quite describe. it felt… perfect.

a soft click made you open them again, and you spotted mina standing in the doorway, her phone in hand.

“are you taking pictures of us?” you whispered, raising an eyebrow.

“maybe,” she said, grinning. “you two are too cute to resist.”

“blackmail material for when he’s older?” you teased.

“absolutely,” mina said, stepping closer. her gaze softened as she looked at the two of you. “but mostly because I don’t want to forget this moment.”

“come join us,” you said, patting the empty space beside you.

she hesitated, then shook her head. “i don’t want to wake him. besides, you both look too peaceful.”

you smiled, your heart swelling as you looked down at hiro. “thanks for giving me this.”

mina’s eyes glistened, and she leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “thank you for being his hero.”

“always,” you murmured, closing your eyes again.

hiro had curled up beside you, his little hand clutching yours as he let out soft, steady breaths. you adjusted the blanket over him, careful not to wake him, and leaned back against the pillows. your own eyelids felt heavy, the steady rhythm of hiro’s breathing lulling you closer to sleep.

just as your head began to droop, you felt the bed shift slightly. mina had slipped in beside you, moving with practiced care. she settled on hiro’s other side, her movements slow and deliberate.

“you’re sneaky,” you mumbled sleepily, cracking one eye open.

“shh,” she whispered. “go back to sleep.”

you didn’t have to be told twice. within moments, you’d drifted off, the warmth of hiro tucked against you and mina’s presence on the other side filling the space with quiet comfort.

at some point, mina must have nodded off, too. she lay with her head resting against your shoulder, her arm draped protectively over hiro. the three of you looked like the picture of peace, nestled together as if the world outside didn’t exist.

the door creaked open softly, and a muffled gasp broke the silence.

“oh. my. god,” momo whispered dramatically.

“look at this,” sana chimed in, her voice equally hushed but tinged with excitement.

“don’t wake them,” your dad said, though he didn’t stop himself from pulling out his phone.

mina’s parents leaned in closer, their faces lit up with soft smiles. “it’s perfect,” her mom whispered, snapping a photo.

“we should frame this,” momo said, her face practically glowing with mischief.

“or make it the family holiday card,” sana added with a smirk.

“don’t be ridiculous,” mina’s dad said, though even he was taking pictures with his phone.

hiro stirred slightly but didn’t wake, and neither did you or mina. the family quickly tiptoed out of the room, whispering excitedly among themselves.

the three of you stayed sound asleep, unaware of the impromptu photo session that had just taken place.

and somewhere in the haze of sleep, mina shifted closer to you, her head resting comfortably against yours as her hand brushed against your arm. if she was awake, she might have blushed. but for now, she was content, her family whole and happy in the quiet glow of the moment.

-----

the day was perfect for a family outing—blue skies, a gentle breeze, and the sound of kids laughing echoing across the park. hiro was practically buzzing with energy, darting toward the playground the moment you stepped foot onto the grass. you and mina strolled behind him, fingers brushing occasionally as you walked.

settling onto a bench near the jungle gym, you watched hiro scale a climbing wall that was clearly meant for older kids. “look at him go,” you said with a chuckle, shaking your head. “he thinks he’s training for the olympics or something.”

mina smirked, resting her chin in her hand. “he gets it from you. always aiming higher than necessary.”

“oh, so now it’s my fault?” you teased, nudging her gently.

she laughed softly, and for a moment, everything felt easy, natural. her hand slid toward yours, her fingers brushing over your palm, but as they grazed the spot where your wedding ring used to sit, her smile faltered. she quickly pulled her hand back, tucking it into her lap.

before you could say anything, a cheerful voice cut through the air.

“well, if it isn’t my favorite troublemaker!”

you turned to see nayeon, her signature bright smile lighting up her face as she approached. “wow, it’s really you!”

“nayeon?” you said, grinning. “what are you doing here?”

“just enjoying the day,” she replied, pulling you into a friendly hug. “and look at you! you’re looking so much better than the last time i saw you.”

mina’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as she watched the interaction, her fingers tightening slightly on the edge of the bench.

“uh, nayeon, this is my wife, mina, you've met her before.” you said, gesturing toward her.

“mina! i’ve heard so much about you,” nayeon said, extending a hand. “it’s great to meet you again.”

mina smiled politely, though her grip was firmer than necessary. “likewise.”

“nayeon’s an acquintance,” you explained, glancing at mina. “we met—”

“at a bar,” nayeon interrupted with a laugh. “you remember that? you were sitting there looking like the world had ended, and i had to save you from being lonely?”

mina’s smile tightened. “how… kind of you.”

“it was nothing,” nayeon said with a shrug. “but honestly, you were a mess back then. i’m glad to see you’ve got your life together now.”

mina’s eyebrow twitched. “yes, well, they’ve had plenty of support.”

nayeon didn’t seem to notice the subtle edge in mina’s tone, but you definitely did. when nayeon finally left after some more reminiscing, mina turned to you, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable.

“so… she’s just a friend, huh?”

“mina,” you said with a chuckle, “nayeon is like ten years older than me.”

“and?” mina shot back, her lips pursed. “some people don’t care about age. and the way she was looking at you…”

“she wasn’t looking at me any particular way,” you replied, fighting a grin.

mina huffed, crossing her arms tighter. “she practically sparkled every time you smiled at her. i’m surprised she didn’t sit on your lap.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at her jealousy, leaning in closer. “are you seriously jealous right now?”

“i’m not jealous,” she muttered, though the slight blush creeping up her cheeks betrayed her.

“you’re adorable when you’re jealous,” you teased, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

she turned her head away, trying to hide her growing smile. “stop.”

“you’re even cuter when you’re trying to act unbothered,” you added, earning a playful shove from her.

“i’m serious. stop,” she said, though her laughter bubbled up despite herself.

back home, hiro was already knocked out on the couch, clutching a stuffed animal mina had sneakily bought for him earlier in the day. you smiled as you carefully carried him to his room, tucking him in with a soft blanket.

“he had a good day,” you said quietly as you joined mina in the living room.

“we all did,” she replied, her expression warm. but then, she fidgeted, her hands tucked behind her back.

“what’s going on?” you asked, tilting your head.

she stepped closer, revealing what she’d been hiding—a small velvet box. your heart skipped a beat as she opened it to reveal your wedding ring, polished and gleaming like new.

“i’ve been meaning to give you this,” she said softly, her voice trembling just slightly. “i know i hurt you. i know i broke every promise i made when i gave you this ring. but… i want us to start again. to rebuild everything we lost. i still want forever with you. will you… will you take this back?”

your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the ring. her eyes were teary but resolute, her hands trembling ever so slightly.

“you know,” you started, a teasing smile breaking the tension, “for someone who’s not jealous, you sure know how to make a grand gesture.”

she laughed through her tears, swatting your arm lightly. “don’t ruin the moment!”

“i’m not,” you said, your voice softening. “but you don’t have to do all this. it’s not about the ring, mina. it’s about you being here, trying, and loving me.”

her lips quivered as you took the ring from her hand, sliding it back onto your finger. before you could say anything else, she surged forward, pulling you into a deep, desperate kiss. it was as if all her fears, regrets, and hopes were poured into that single moment.

when you finally pulled away, you grinned. “i’m still surprised you kept it all this time.”

“well… i almost threw it into the han river once,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “but momo stopped me.”

“remind me to thank momo later,” you said, laughing softly.

“you better,” she teased, resting her forehead against yours. for the first time in a long while, it felt like everything was falling into place.

-----

the myoui corporation department store was bustling with activity, its modern grandeur commanding attention from every shopper who walked through its pristine halls. mina strode confidently across the glossy floor, her tailored suit accentuating her poise as her assistant, dahyun, trailed closely behind with a tablet in hand.

“dahyun,” mina began, her voice calm yet firm, “i want the third-floor atrium redesigned. we’ve been catering too much to exclusivity. it’s time we incorporated spaces that families with young children can enjoy—play areas, family lounges, and nursing rooms. focus on accessibility and comfort.”

dahyun glanced up from her tablet, blinking in mild surprise. “that’s... not exactly in line with the previous strategy, president myoui.”

mina stopped walking, turning slightly to fix dahyun with a look that was both patient and pointed. “are you suggesting it’s a bad idea?”

“not at all!” dahyun hurriedly replied, her cheeks coloring slightly. “i’ll make sure the revisions are prepared and ready for review.”

mina nodded, resuming her pace. “good. i want the new designs by next week. make it practical, but maintain the quality we’re known for.”

as dahyun scribbled notes furiously, she dared to glance at her boss’s expression. something about mina seemed... softer today. “if you don’t mind me asking, president myoui,” dahyun ventured cautiously, “what brought on this sudden focus on family spaces?”

mina didn’t answer immediately. her gaze softened as she thought of hiro and the way he grinned so brightly whenever they went to the park. “priorities change, dahyun,” she said quietly. “let’s leave it at that.”

meanwhile, across the bustling department store, you were walking with your legal team, engrossed in discussions about upcoming contract negotiations. it had been a few weeks since you’d taken on the role of legal director, and though you were still settling into the position, you couldn’t deny the sense of satisfaction that came with it.

“we’ll finalize the terms for the lease renewal by the end of the month,” one of your team members was saying when you glanced up and spotted mina.

there she was, effortlessly commanding attention as always, her team hanging on her every word. beside her, dahyun was typing furiously, clearly struggling to keep up.

you didn’t think twice. excusing yourself mid-conversation, you picked up your pace, leaving your team to catch up as you made your way toward her.

mina caught sight of you almost immediately, her expression softening in a way that was barely perceptible to anyone but you.

“hey,” you greeted casually, stopping in front of her.

“hey,” she replied, her voice quieter, tinged with surprise.

without hesitation, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips, completely oblivious—or perhaps entirely unbothered—by the presence of both your teams. mina’s breath hitched, and for a brief moment, her composure faltered as a faint blush crept up her neck.

dahyun froze, her eyes darting between the two of you. “oh,” she muttered under her breath, her cheeks burning as she quickly pretended to focus on her tablet.

“have you eaten lunch yet?” you asked, your tone light as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

mina blinked, still recovering from the unexpected affection. “not yet. i was planning to after this.”

you nodded, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “good. make sure you actually eat this time, not just sip on black coffee.”

mina rolled her eyes, though the corners of her mouth betrayed a small smile. “you sound like you’re giving orders now.”

“just taking care of my wife,” you quipped, the words slipping out with ease.

dahyun’s fingers froze mid-typing, her eyes widening as she glanced at mina, whose blush deepened visibly.

“you’re embarrassing me,” mina murmured, though there was no real bite to her words.

you leaned in slightly, your voice low and teasing. “you love it.”

before she could retort, you turned and began walking back to your team, leaving mina standing there with her assistants staring at her in awe.

“president myoui,” dahyun whispered once you were out of earshot, “that was... bold.”

mina sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “focus on the task at hand, dahyun,” she said briskly, though the faint smile on her lips lingered for far longer than she intended.

-----

your new office in the myoui corporation was nothing short of breathtaking. floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city skyline, sleek furniture that probably cost more than your old car, and a desk so big it could double as a dinner table. mina really went all out.

you stood in the middle of the room, trying to decide where to place the ridiculous bouquet of roses mina had sent earlier with a simple note: “welcome to your new throne. love, mina.”

as you debated whether the flowers would look better on the desk or the small coffee table by the window, the door clicked open behind you. you turned to see mina, elegant as always, stepping in with a soft smile.

"so, how do you like it?" she asked, her voice tinged with pride as her eyes scanned the room and then landed on you.

"i feel like a majesty in here," you replied, gesturing to the plush leather chair behind your desk. "but it’s a little too much, don’t you think?"

"nonsense," mina said, walking closer. "you deserve the best." she leaned against the edge of your desk, crossing her arms. "besides, you’re part of the myoui empire now. appearances matter."

you chuckled, placing the flowers on the desk beside her. "and the hidden minibar? appearances?"

mina’s lips curved into a smirk. "a small indulgence. but," she paused, leaning closer, "if you think that’s over the top, you haven’t seen the… additional renovations i made."

your brows furrowed as you tilted your head. "what renovations?"

mina stood, her heels clicking softly on the polished floor as she strolled to the far side of the office. with a press of a button on the wall, a hidden panel slid open, revealing a small lounge area—complete with a plush sofa, a lockable door, and soundproof walls.

"i figured you might need a space to… relax during long hours," she said, her tone deceptively casual.

you blinked, heat rushing to your cheeks as realization dawned. "mina… this isn’t just for me to relax, is it?"

she shrugged, walking back toward you with that familiar mischievous glint in her eye. "well, it’s not entirely not for you either."

before you could respond, she looped her arms around your neck, pulling you close. "besides," she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear, "i figured it’d be safer to plan ahead. no nosy assistants barging in, no cameras in this section of the floor… completely private."

your hands instinctively found her waist as her lips met yours, the kiss starting slow but quickly deepening. her usual poised demeanor melted into something far more uninhibited as she pressed closer, backing you up against your desk.

"mina, we can’t…" you managed to say between kisses, though your hands betrayed your words, trailing down her back.

"we can," she countered, her voice low and sultry, "and we will. don’t worry. i made sure we wouldn’t get caught."

"you’re dangerous, you know that?" you whispered, your voice low as you looked into mina’s darkening eyes. her smirk widened, her hands moving to loosen the knot of your tie.

"danger is part of the fun," she murmured, her lips ghosting over yours before trailing down your jawline.

your breath hitched when her hands tugged at your tie, pulling you closer until your hips pressed against the desk. the cold surface bit through your clothes, a stark contrast to the heat radiating between you two.

"mina," you started, but her name caught in your throat as her lips found the sensitive spot below your ear.

"shh," she said softly, her fingers deftly working to undo the first button of your shirt. "you’ve been working so hard setting up this office, and helping with the corporation. let me… give you an early pay."

her voice was smooth as silk, but the deliberate pace of her movements was anything but patient. her hands trailed down your chest, undoing buttons one by one as her lips followed the path of her fingers.

you tried to regain some control, gripping her waist and spinning her so that she was the one pressed against the desk. she gasped softly, her eyes wide for just a moment before a sly smile curved her lips.

"oh?" she teased, tilting her head. "decided to take charge?"

"you started this," you shot back, leaning in until your nose brushed hers. "but i’m finishing it."

the kiss that followed was anything but gentle—raw, desperate, like the tension between you had been building for far too long. your hands slid up her thighs, hiking up the hem of her skirt just enough to feel the smooth skin beneath.

mina’s breath hitched, and her nails dug into your shoulders. "you know, we really shouldn’t," she whispered, though the way her body arched against yours betrayed her words.

"you're backing out already?" you countered, your lips brushing against hers as you spoke.

she didn’t answer with words. instead, she pulled you down, claiming your lips again as she let out a soft, muffled moan.

your hands explored her freely now, mapping out every curve as if committing her to memory all over again. the desk creaked slightly as you leaned her back against it, her hair falling like ink over the polished wood.

"you’re going to ruin my skirt," she whispered breathlessly, though her tone was more amused than scolding.

"you’re the one who planned this," you replied, smirking as your lips trailed down her neck. "consider it part of the… renovations."

her laugh turned into a soft gasp as you found a particularly sensitive spot, and her hands gripped the edge of the desk for support.

"just… make sure no one walks in," she managed to say, her voice trembling slightly.

"you already said this place is soundproof," you teased, nipping at her collarbone. "besides, you’re the boss. who’s going to interrupt you?"

she didn’t respond, too caught up in the way your hands and lips moved over her. -----

the soft hum of the air conditioner filled the bedroom as you leaned back against a mountain of plush pillows, the silkiness of your matching pajama set brushing against your skin. the set, of course, was mina’s doing—custom-made with your initials embroidered on the pocket. mina, dressed in an identical set, had her arm lazily draped over your waist as the two of you lounged on the massive bed that could probably fit half a soccer team.

“so,” mina began, her voice soft and curious as she glanced at you, “what would you want to name our next child?”

you turned your head to look at her, arching a brow. “next child? are we really jumping into that conversation already?”

“we’re wearing matching pajamas. this is as domestic as it gets,” she teased, her lips curving into a playful smile. “besides, hiro’s growing up so fast. don’t you think it’d be nice to have another little one running around?”

you chuckled, running your fingers along the luxurious fabric of the comforter. “okay, let’s say we have another kid. what are you thinking? traditional? unique? or something ridiculously extravagant like… diamond or cashmere?”

mina gasped, feigning offense. “excuse me, i have taste, thank you very much. but now that you mention it… cashmere has a nice ring to it.”

you groaned, laughing. “mina, no.”

“fine, fine.” she tapped her chin thoughtfully, her tone turning serious for a moment. “if it’s a girl, maybe something soft and elegant. like hana or akari.”

you nodded, considering it. “not bad. hana myoui does have a nice flow to it. and if it’s a boy?”

mina tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “you get to name him, as long as it’s not something weird like ‘thunder.’”

“what’s wrong with thunder? it’s bold!” you argued, grinning.

mina rolled her eyes, gently pinching your cheek. “you’re impossible.”

“you love me for it.”

she smiled, her fingers brushing your hair back. “unfortunately, i do.”

the conversation drifted as mina reached over to a bedside table that probably cost more than your first car, pulling out a velvet box. inside was a delicate bracelet—gold with tiny diamonds, with her initials engraved on a tiny charm, elegant and understated but unmistakably expensive. she slipped it onto your wrist without saying a word.

you blinked at her. “what’s this for?”

“just because,” she said simply, her voice soft. “i like spoiling you.”

“mina,” you groaned, though a smile tugged at your lips.

“don’t fight me on this,” she warned playfully, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “you’ve been through so much. let me take care of you the way you deserve.”

after a moment of comfortable silence, she glanced at you with a curious glint in her eye. “you know… i’ve been thinking about something.”

“uh-oh,” you said, feigning caution. “should i be worried?”

“maybe.” she grinned, sitting up slightly. “i think you should get a tattoo.”

you blinked, caught off guard. “a tattoo? really? you don’t strike me as the tattoo type.”

“not for me,” she clarified, smirking. “for you. something small.. like my name."

you burst out laughing, shaking your head. “mina, are you serious?”

“dead serious,” she said, her expression unchanging. “imagine it—‘mina’ tattooed on your wrist, or maybe your collarbone. somewhere visible. a constant reminder that you’re off-limits.”

“you do realize this is next-level possessive, right?” you teased, still laughing.

“and?” she shot back, her tone playful but firm. “is it really that bad to want the world to know you’re mine?”

you sighed, resting your head against her shoulder. “fine, but only if you promise not to name our kid cashmere.”

she laughed, her melodic giggle filling the room. “deal.”

as the two of you settled into the comfort of the moment, talking and dreaming about your growing family, neither of you noticed the way time slipped by. it wasn’t until mina glanced at the clock and realized it was past midnight that she pulled the covers over both of you, her warmth wrapping around you like a blanket.

“goodnight,” she whispered, her voice laced with contentment.

you smiled, closing your eyes. “goodnight, mina. and for the record, hana’s a great name.”

“i know,” she murmured, holding you close. “it’ll be perfect.”

and with that, the night faded into peaceful silence, the promise of a brighter future lingering in the air.

-----

the night was alive with soft jazz notes and a low hum of chatter from the exclusive bar. the four of you—mina, momo, sana, and yourself—occupied a luxurious corner booth, the dim light casting an intimate glow over the table. momo’s animated storytelling had everyone laughing, her wild hand gestures making sana wheeze as she tried to sip her drink.

beside you, mina sat poised, her slender fingers tracing invisible patterns on the back of your hand resting on your thigh. the touch was possessive but soft—a silent statement of claim.

“so,” momo said, squinting at the cocktail menu, “what’s next? something dangerously strong, maybe?”

“how about something mina wouldn’t touch in a million years?” sana teased, raising her eyebrows at mina. “do they even serve red wine slushies here?”

mina shot her an unimpressed look but smirked. “i’m versatile. don’t test me.”

“says the woman who calls anything under 90 points undrinkable,” momo muttered, earning a giggle from sana.

just as the teasing continued, a figure approached the table. tall, elegant, and undeniably confident, the woman seemed to glide rather than walk. you recognized her instantly—a k-pop idol with a glittering reputation.

“hi there,” she purred, her attention locked on you. she ignored the rest of the table, mina included, as if the others were invisible. “i couldn’t help but notice you. mind if i join?”

mina stiffened beside you, her hand freezing on your leg. her eyes darted up to the idol, assessing, cold and sharp. momo’s mouth twitched, clearly trying to suppress laughter, while sana leaned back, ready to enjoy the show.

“can i help you?” you asked, tone neutral, though mina’s grip tightened slightly on your thigh.

“just curious,” the idol said, leaning closer than necessary. “someone as attractive as you—how are you still single?”

mina inhaled sharply, her nails pressing lightly into your leg. momo and sana exchanged a glance, both silently bracing for mina’s explosion.

without missing a beat, you lifted your hand, the faint glow of your wedding ring catching the light. “i’m not single. happily married.”

the idol’s smile faltered but didn’t entirely fade. “oh… well, marriages aren’t always—”

“excuse me,” you interrupted, voice steady as you gestured to a nearby staff member. “can you kindly escort her elsewhere? i believe she’s lost her way.”

the idol’s face reddened, and she stammered something inaudible before the staff member politely ushered her away.

when you turned back to the table, mina’s gaze was already fixed on you. her pride and amusement were unmistakable, though her lips pressed into a thin line as she tried to maintain her usual composure.

“that was… well played,” momo said, grinning. “you didn’t even flinch.”

sana nodded enthusiastically. “you’ve really got a knack for making people regret their decisions.”

mina’s hand moved from your thigh to the back of your neck, drawing you closer. her voice was low and intimate as she whispered, “thank you for shutting her down so quickly. i was seconds away from doing it myself.”

you smiled, tilting your head toward her. “did you think i wouldn’t?”

mina leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a brief but deliberate kiss. “you’re too perfect sometimes, you know that?” she murmured, her voice laced with a rare softness.

sana cleared her throat dramatically. “uh, public place, guys. public. place.”

mina ignored her, picking up a slice of the appetizer platter and holding it out to you. “here,” she said, her tone commanding but warm. “eat.”

you blinked. mina never fed anyone, let alone in public. but she waited, her expression unreadable, until you leaned forward and took a bite.

“oh my god,” momo muttered, leaning toward sana. “is this even real? she’s… spoiling them.”

“she’s in deep,” sana whispered back, grinning.

“don’t make me regret inviting you two,” mina said flatly, though the corner of her lips curved upward.

but as you sit there, watchin them peacefully, you realize you wouldn’t trade this chaos for anything. -----

the air was crisp and cool, carrying the faint scent of pine trees and fresh earth. the myoui town had hardly changed, its quiet charm untouched by the passing years. it was just as peaceful as you remembered it during your honeymoon with mina, but now, it felt even more alive with hiro’s laughter echoing through the streets.

“this place always feels like stepping into another world,” you mused, glancing over at mina, who was holding hiro’s hand as they admired the rows of blooming hydrangeas.

mina smiled, her face glowing in the golden afternoon light. “it hasn’t changed much. it’s why i love coming back here.”

hiro suddenly tugged on mina’s hand, pointing at a small pond nearby. “look, mama! koi fish! can i feed them?”

mina nodded, her voice soft and indulgent. “of course, but stay close.”

you trailed behind them, carrying a bag filled with snacks and small trinkets you’d picked up for hiro earlier in the day. watching them interact always filled you with a quiet warmth. hiro, who once stumbled over his tiny feet, was now running confidently, his energy boundless as he scattered fish food into the pond.

after a while, you joined mina on a bench overlooking the water, her hand slipping into yours without a word. you noticed how her grip tightened slightly, her eyes lingering on hiro.

“you’ve been quiet,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over her knuckles. “what’s on your mind?”

she tilted her head, leaning it gently on your shoulder. “just… thinking how far we’ve come. i’m glad we made it here, together.”

your lips curved into a smile. “me too.”

later, as the sky began to darken into shades of amber and lilac, the three of you returned to the small house that mina’s family maintained in town. you helped mina with preparing dinner, chopping vegetables while she stirred the pot, the two of you working in easy harmony.

hiro was playing in the living room, his laughter filling the space as he built a block tower.

“he’s growing up too fast,” mina murmured, her voice tinged with bittersweet affection.

you glanced at her, wiping your hands on a towel before wrapping your arms around her waist from behind. “he’s turning out pretty great, though. just like his mom.”

mina chuckled, leaning back into your embrace. “you’re biased.”

“and proud of it.”

the evening passed in quiet contentment, the kind of peace you’d once thought was unattainable.

as the night deepened, you and mina sat on the porch, watching hiro chase fireflies in the yard. suddenly, mina called out, her voice soft yet carrying a gentle urgency.

“come here, sweetheart!”

you turned to see a small figure toddling out of the house, her tiny legs unsteady but determined. your daughter—her cheeks round, her hair tied into a tiny bun that mina had fussed over earlier—was walking toward her mother.

hiro noticed immediately and ran to her side, carefully holding her hand to steady her. “careful, hana,” he said, his tone protective yet gentle.

“you’re doing so good, hana!” hiro cheered, his grin wide.

mina’s hand found yours, her grip firm yet tender. “he’s such a good brother,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

“he had good examples to follow,” you murmured, your eyes meeting hers.

a comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the soft giggles of your children.

then, as if unable to resist, mina turned to you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “so… what do you think about number three?”

you groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “mina, we just had hana—”

“exactly,” she interrupted, her tone light. “and look how perfect she is. why not one more?”

you peeked at her through your fingers, your lips twitching despite yourself. “you’re wild.”

she grinned, leaning in to kiss your neck the exact same spot where your tattoo resided, a small tattoo of her name. “and you love me for it.”

watching hiro guide hana, the two of you couldn’t help but exchange a glance—a silent agreement that, for all the chaos and exhaustion, this was the life you never knew you’d wanted.

fireflies dot the air. hana toddled around near mina’s feet while hiro chased the glowing insects with wild abandon.

you smiled, your heart swelling with pride and love. “yeah. we did good, didn’t we?”

mina rested her head against your shoulder, her hand finding yours once again. “we did.”

and as you watched your children together, you realized there was nowhere else in the world you’d rather be.

-----

end of the special chapter, and the series.

a/n — have this :P i'm sorry for causing sadness here's something to mend that. here's the result from the vote, honestly a big surprise as i didn't think you guys would choose the right choice.