Running is nothing new.

Irene loves the feeling of the wind in her hair, the smell of night, the sound of four other pairs of footsteps beside her, running, running, running.

There’s laughter, always, usually from the red-head and the blonde, the two youngest running backwards at times, even as the police sprint hot at their heels, or the shopkeeper screams profanities and throws empty bottles as projectiles.

For Irene, this is what her heaven would be, where she hopes her life will come to an end, what she hopes will last for an eternity.

They finally stop running beneath a bridge along the Han River, gasping for breath, her back hitting the solid stone structure, the cold seeping in despite the bomber jacket and hoodie she wears, complementing the darkness of her jeans but contrast yellow Converse hi-tops.

“Yeah! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Joy screams into the air.

Yeri hoots and hollers in response, eventually dissolving into a mess of giggles that Wendy succumbs to as per usual.

Yeri and Wendy sprawls on the concrete, motionless except for the rise and fall of their chests, hearts beating in unison even as Joy falls back to join them.

As always, Seulgi is beside her, a presence that is never missed, hopefully never will be missed, cannot be missed.

After she’s sure the others are content with where they lie and no one of suspicion is around, she reaches into the pocket of her jacket and extracts a lighter and a cigarette, the lighter’s smooth finishing cool against her fingers, ironic to the heat it contains.

It’s not a second later that the cigarette vanishes from her possession as if taken by a ghost, though Irene knows exactly who the culprit is.

“You won’t be able to keep running with us if you destroy your lungs, Unnie.”

Seulgi’s voice is soft, not reprimanding, and light in the way her words are spoken, and Irene simply watches the gentle puff of air that materializes from Seulgi’s lips as mist and drifts away into the night sky.

It’s prettier than her cigarette smoke, that’s for certain, though it disappears twice as quickly.

Irene makes do with threading the lighter between her fingers, flipping it, then starting over again.

Joy sits up abruptly. “Let’s go to the PC room! I wanna play. Huh, Unnie?”

“It’s too late for that, and anyway, they’re probably still