Hongbin ran.

He ran because he had heard her broken voice and quiet sniffles over the phone.

He ran because even though she had said that she was okay, even though she had denied that she was crying, even though she had told him that she didn’t want him to come, he knew otherwise.

Hongbin ran—he ran as fast as his legs would take him—because he loved her.

She hadn’t told him where she was, but she didn’t have to. Hongbin knew exactly where to find her.

He rounded the corner and slowed down a little when the big, familiar fountain came into view. There, on the side near the little gazebo, Jimin sat on the edge of the water. Hongbin could see little ripples on the surface of the fountain water as the clouded night sky started to cry little droplets of rain.

He reached her and noticed that she was staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. She looked tired—just so, so tired.

“Jimin...”

She snapped out of her reverie and turned to her left as he sat down beside her. “Hongbin oppa,” she acknowledged with a slight smile.

Then she frowned. “I told you not to come...”

He scoffed. “Yeah, and let you cry all alone out here?”

“I wasn’t crying...”

“You have always been a terrible liar, Jimin, and you know that.”

She looked down at her hands. “Yeah, well...” she trailed off.

“What happened, Jimin?” he asked quietly.

She tilted her head up and sighed. “You know, he always hated when people said ‘yeah, well.’ He said it seemed so... nonchalant, as though the person didn’t care about what he had to say.

“Now that I think about it, I seem to know so much about him.

“He hates crocodiles; his favorite animal is the penguin. He can’t remember dates to save his life, but he tries so hard at remembering my birthday and our anniversary. He almost always misses his stop, whether he’s on the bus or on the train. He loves chicken... and pizza. He would kill for pizza.”

Jimin paused and laughed wryly.

“He loves the way I pronounce my R’s. He thinks I’m funny. He always told me I’m pretty on days I feel that I’m not, and he always told me he loves my heart. He—”

She stopped talking. A tear leaked from her eye, and it suddenly occurred to Hongbin why she had her head tilted up.

“Jimin, don’t cry...” Hongbin reached a hand out towards her face but stopped promptly when she roughly wiped the lone drop away. He brought his hand back to his side.

She took a deep breath. Then, laughing again, she continued, “It’s funny: I seem to know so much about him, and then I suddenly come to realize that I actually know nothing at all. What have I been believing all this time...?”

The rain was slowly increasing, and Hongbin tugged at her hand. “Let’s go inside, Jimin.” He gestured towards the gazebo.

She shook her head.

“You might catch a cold,” he coaxed her tenderly.

“I don’t want to.”

“Jimin...”

“I like the rain, oppa.”

When she called him oppa like that, he would have gone to the ends of the earth for her, if that was what she had asked for. Reluctantly, he released her hand and immediately felt the cold emptiness where her warmth once was. He mentally reprimanded himself for not grabbing an umbrella, even though it had already been drizzling before he left his home. He took off his hooded jacket and draped them around her shoulders, hoping that it would at least provide some protection and comfort.

Hongbin sighed. He willed himself to ask her yet again, “What happened, Jimin?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know... some misunderstanding. Misinterpreted my words. Something about not trusting me... something about judging.” She unconsciously pulled his jacket closer to herself as the rain started to soak the both of them through. “I really don’t know anymore.”

“Did you explain to him then?”

“I don’t know, oppa... I don’t think it’d work.”

“How would you know if you didn’t try? Communication is important.”

“I think... I think it’s over for real this time.”

Hongbin couldn’t tell if that were tears or rain on her face, but her quiet whimpers soon reached his ears. He looked down awkwardly at his hands. He hated when she cried: he always felt at a loss.

“Maybe... maybe it’s time for a new beginning then, Jimin.”

Her reply was so soft that he almost doubted whether she had even said anything. Her words seemed to have blended in with the sound of the rain pelting down on the ground and on the surface of the fountain water.

“But I don’t want a new beginning.”

Jimin looked up at him, and in her eyes, he saw what he knew was in his yet what she had always been blinded to: love and the pain of being in love.

“But I love him.”

I could be your new beginning, Hongbin wanted to say. I could save you from this pain. I would make sure you’d never cry again.

Instead, he gently wrapped his arms around her small, shaking body and drew her into him.

Her head fitted perfectly on his chest; his chin rested perfectly on the top of her head.

But Jimin didn’t notice.

She didn’t hug him back; she only sobbed. He knew that he wasn’t the one that she wanted; he knew that she was simply seeking comfort from someone who would willingly give her all that she needed.

But Hongbin didn’t mind.

“It’s going to be okay, Jimin.”

Because as many times as that certain someone was going to let her down, Hongbin was going to be there to pick her up.

Because no matter how painful this love was, Hongbin was going to wait.

Because to him, she was worth waiting for.