Enhyeok POV.
—
"Jiah," I say, loud enough to cut through it.
She stills.
Not slowly. Not cautiously. It's like someone flipped a switch.
Her head snaps up.
She actually looks at me this time.
Her eyes are wrecked.
Red. Shiny. Too wide. Like they forgot how to blink. Fear is still there, clinging, stubborn.
But something else breaks through it—recognition. Relief. The kind that hits so hard it knocks the strength out of you.
Her knees give.
She stumbles forward and crashes into me.
My body freezes immediately.
Fuck.
I don't move. Don't react. Don't even breathe right for a second. My arms hang there, useless, like they forgot they belong to me.
Her forehead hits my chest. Her hands fist into my jacket like she's drowning and I'm the nearest solid thing.
She starts crying.
Not the dramatic kind. No loud sobbing. No pretty shaking breaths.
It's worse.
It's messy. Silent at first. Her shoulders jerk in these small, uneven movements like her body can't decide how to fall apart properly.
Her breath stutters against my shirt, hot and broken, like she's trying not to make noise and failing anyway.
I stare straight ahead.
My brain blanks.
This has never happened to me. Not like this. Not someone falling into me like I'm… something safe. Something allowed.
My hands twitch once.
Then stop.
Her grip tightens.
Her crying gets worse. Louder now. Cracks slipping out no matter how hard she tries to swallow them back.
Her face presses into my chest like she's embarrassed to let me see it.
I don't know what to do.
I've dealt with chaos before. Anger. Yelling. Blood. Silence. This is different. This is small and shaking and human and happening right against my ribs.
Slowly—too slowly—I lift one hand.
It hovers there. Awkward. Useless.
Then I wrap it around her shoulder.
Careful. Like she might break if I do it wrong.
My other arm follows, settling against her back. Not tight. Not loose. Just… there.
She shudders.
"I'm scared," she says into my chest.
The words are muffled. Barely there. Like admitting it costs her something.
I feel it then.
Not feelings. Not softness.
Anger.
White-hot and sharp and late.
I was going to yell at her. I'd rehearsed it in my head while chasing the bus. Snapping. Cutting. Telling her exactly how stupid this was. How careless. How—
None of it comes out.
Instead, my mouth opens and something else falls out.
"It's okay," I hear myself say. My voice sounds wrong. Too low. Too steady. "I'm here. Don't cry."
I freeze again.
What the hell was that.
I don't say things like that. I don't offer comfort. I don't tell people it's okay when it very clearly isn't. The words sit heavy in the air, unfamiliar, like I borrowed them from someone else's mouth.
She doesn't respond.
She just cries harder.
Great.
I stand there, holding her, while my brain scrambles to catch up. Her hands are still gripping my jacket. Her face is soaked into my chest now.
I can feel it through the fabric. The cold air. Her warmth. The way her breathing slowly, painfully starts to even out.
After a while—too long—she pulls back.
Not fully. Just enough to breathe.
Her eyes flick up to my face and then immediately away, like reality just hit her late.
"Oh—" she stumbles, stepping back abruptly, nearly tripping over her own feet. "I—I'm sorry. That wasn't— I didn't mean to— I was just— I got scared."
The words tumble out messy and fast, tripping over each other.
I look away.
Drag a hand over the back of my neck.
"Yeah," I mutter. "It's fine."
Silence drops between us.
Not comfortable. Not awkward either. Just… there.
The road is empty. Trees breathing quietly around us. The taxi idles behind, driver pretending not to see anything.
I glance at her.
She looks small. Not in a fragile way. In a used-up way. Like adrenaline burned through everything and left nothing behind.
That's when the anger finally finds its way back.
It hits hard.
Controlled. Focused.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I snap.
Her head jerks up.
"Are you out of your damn mind?" I continue, words sharp now, finally lining up the way they were supposed to earlier. "You black out thinking about your fucking crush and miss your stop? At night? Out here?"
She flinches.
"I was just distracted," she says quietly.
I laugh once. Short. Ugly.
"Distracted?" I step closer without thinking. "What if I didn't care enough to follow the fucking bus?"
Her jaw tightens. "I said I'm sorry."
I curse under my breath and turn away before I say something worse.
"Come on," I say, already walking. "Let's pray we can get a taxi."
She follows.
We stand on the road.
Nothing passes.
No bus. No taxi. No headlights cutting through the dark like a miracle.
Minutes tick by.
My jaw clenches.
I check the time.
9:57.
"Fuck," I mutter, running a hand through my hair.
There's no point yelling now. She's not in a state to hear it. And honestly—what would it fix?
I exhale slowly.
Then, "Come with me."
She looks up. "Where?"
"There's no way we're getting a taxi here," I say flatly. "We'll look for a hotel or something nearby."
Her eyes widen. "To stay? We're not going home?"
I side-eye her.
Hard.
She immediately winces. "Sorry."
Good.
We start walking.
The road stretches ahead, still wrong, still quiet. I keep her on the inside, closer to me than the trees. Not because I'm soft. Because I'm not letting this get worse.
My thoughts churn, sharp and relentless.
Stupid. Careless. Reckless.
And yet—
I glance at her again.
She's walking close. Quiet now. Breathing steadier. Still shaken, but upright.
Good.
This is done. She's safe. That's it.
And some stupid, traitorous part of my brain adds—
Good. Now she'll finally get over that loser Jiho.
____________________
JIAH POV
I walk behind him.
Not beside. Not catching up. Behind.
His back is a solid line cutting through the dark, shoulders set, steps fast like the road personally offended him.
He doesn't look back. Doesn't slow down. Just keeps moving like if he stops, something worse might catch up.
Both sides of the road are nothing.
No streetlights. No houses. No fences. Just trees pressed in too close, their shapes bleeding into each other. The dark feels thick here. Like it has weight. Like it could lean.
My fingers curl into my jacket sleeves.
This is my fault.
That thought keeps looping, ugly and relentless.
If he hadn't followed the bus. If he hadn't noticed. If he hadn't—
I don't finish it.
My feet start lagging. Not on purpose. They just do. Each step feels wrong, like the ground might give out or grab me if I don't watch it closely enough.
Gravel crunches too loud under my shoes. Every sound feels like it's announcing me.
I glance over my shoulder.
Nothing.
Which somehow makes it worse.
"Enhyeok," I say.
My voice comes out thin. Smaller than I expect.
He stops immediately.
Turns.
The movement is sharp, controlled, like he was already halfway to doing it. His face is half-shadowed, eyes catching just enough light to see me clearly. Focused. Alert.
"What," he says. Not annoyed. Just there.
"Can you—" I swallow. My throat feels scraped raw. "Can you slow down? I can't… reach."
For a second he just looks at me.
Then he turns back around.
And slows.
Not dramatically. Not obviously. Just enough that I don't have to rush anymore. Just enough that the space between us doesn't stretch.
We walk like that for a bit.
The silence stretches again. Different now. Thinner. Like it could snap if I breathe wrong.
My fear creeps back in quietly.
Not panic. Not screaming terror.
The kind that settles into your bones.
The kind that makes you imagine hands where there are none. Footsteps that aren't real. The kind that reminds you, over and over, how easily tonight could've ended differently.
Without him, I would still be there.
That thought hits hard enough to make my chest tighten.
"Enhyeok," I say again, softer this time.
He doesn't turn.
But his pace slows a little more.
I struggle to keep up anyway. My legs feel heavy now, adrenaline finally draining out, leaving everything shaky and sore. My breathing sounds too loud in my own ears.
He stops suddenly.
I almost walk into him.
He doesn't face me. Just steps slightly to the side and reaches his hand back.
Palm open.
"Hold it," he says.
No emotion. No explanation. He still isn't looking at me.
I stare at his hand.
It feels unreal. Like my brain hasn't caught up yet. My fingers hesitate, hovering there uselessly, my heart beating way too fast for something this simple.
Then I take it.
His hand closes around mine instantly. Firm. Warm. Grounding in a way I wasn't prepared for.
He doesn't squeeze.
He just holds.
And starts walking again.
I follow.
My grip tightens without permission.
The road keeps going. And going. And going.
No hotel. No signs. No sudden civilization saving us. Just more dark, more trees, more quiet that presses in from all sides.
My fear shifts again. Less sharp. More exhausted. Like it doesn't know where to go anymore.
Then—
A light.
Small. Yellow. Weak. But real.
It glows from a corner ahead, half-hidden by trees. A house. Old. Low. The kind that looks like it's been there longer than it should've.
Enhyeok stops.
"There," he says. "Let's try."
I nod quickly, even though my chest tightens again. Relief tangles with something nervous and unfamiliar. My hand is still in his. He doesn't let go.
We walk up the narrow path.
The house smells like old wood and smoke and something cooked hours ago. A single bulb flickers above the door.
An old woman sits on a chair outside, wrapped in a thick sweater, watching us approach like she's been waiting.
Her eyes narrow.
Suspicious. Sharp.
Enhyeok releases my hand. "Wait here."
I do.
He steps forward, speaking quietly to her. I can't hear the words, just the low tone of his voice. Calm. Polite. Controlled. She studies him like she's weighing something important.
Then she looks at me.
Really looks.
"Come here," she says.
I hesitate.
Then step closer.
She reaches out and pats my arm gently. Her hand is warm. Wrinkled. Solid.
"You poor thing," she says. "Did you get scared?"
I shake my head automatically.
She hums, unimpressed. "You're shaking."
My mouth opens. Closes.
She sighs. "You can stay here tonight. But only two rooms. You'll have to share one."
The words land slow.
Heavy.
I blink.
Share.
With Enhyeok.
My brain short-circuits completely.
I have to share a fucking room with Enhyeok??