(He had expected it to be bad, but not possibly this bad.)

His lips were suddenly dry. The wind bit at his face.

He had no doubt that it was her. He had rather expected her reaction as well: the slight nod of acknowledgement, the small smile as she repeated his name to herself; but no sign—not even a trace—of recognition.

-

“Hey...” The one-syllable word hung in the empty air. The man—Myungsoo—seemed to be struggling with his words. He blinked awkwardly and shifted his feet.

He dug something out of his coat pocket and pressed it into your palm. You shivered; his fingers were colder than yours.

“Take it.” The tone of his words was somehow quiet and forceful at the same time.

You took the folded paper and stuffed it into your jacket pocket, the smooth surface thoughtfully. Myungsoo, Myungsoo... His name sounded familiar to you—had it been in a story? Suddenly, a pair of familiar arms wrapped around your shoulders, and you turned to see a grinning Sungjong.

“Hey, you!” You hugged him back. Sungjong squeezed you tightly so you were pressed into his chest, and the two of you spun in slow circles. Warm...

“Hey, let’s go get something to eat, okay? My treat.” He beamed down at you, and tugged your hand softly.

You stopped, suddenly unsure. “But what about—”

“That guy? Oh, he just had the wrong person. It’s fine.” Sungjong smiled reassuringly. “Come on, let’s go!”

Well, it is cold... And I am hungry... “Okay.” You smiled slightly. “Let’s go.”

(As calming as Sungjong’s smile had been, and as unruffled he looked, you couldn’t help but notice that his fingers tightened on yours as you left.)

-

He watched as another man came bounding up to her, wrapping his arms around her while she squirmed and giggled. Everything faded away into silence...

He locked eyes with the man. Sungjong, he remembered. As the man led her away, he turned for a moment to stare back at Myungsoo with a sly, triumphant smile. The same smirk, Myungsoo recalled, from one year ago, on that hazy Christmas night...

(Only then, there had been a wavering, irregular beeping sound—the sound of someone trying to stay alive.)

I’ve won. The smirk said everything.

He had won, Myungsoo admitted to himself, albeit reluctantly.

(He wanted to hope, though, that maybe things would change.)