Italics means its in Korean

The road was silent, the street lamps illuminated the sidewalk in a ghostly manner making the scene look like a dream. Even more so, when Hong Jisoo was walking by my side. Looking up at the grey sky, reminded me of all those long late night walks I used to take with my whole family after dinner where we talked about everything and anything. Getting piggy back rides on my sisters, being the youngest had its perks, when I became tired and couldn’t walk any further. Tears rolled down my cheeks relentlessly. Those days were long gone.

The walk back was longer than I thought, 30 minutes of silent walking had a toll on my body. Being emotionally and physically weak from the events before, my pace slowed. I had forgotten Jisoo was walking me, I was about to go to the curb to sit for a while to rest and reminisce over the past. Something, I found I loved doing yet now seemed bitter sweet. A large hand wrapped around my own, and pulled me back. The owner mustn’t have known their own strength, the pull led me to tumble and softly bump into someone. Looking up I saw his concerned eyes again.

“Don’t do that. Are you tired?”

Not knowing what he meant and telling me what not to do, I just nodded my head softly. Confused as to what he would do, I mean, he wouldn’t give me a piggy back ride right? I don’t think I’d be ready for that. My heart wouldn’t be able to survive that, the fact that my bias would be a gentleman and that it would remind me of all those times I had to be carried home as a child was unbearable. As I was still wondering what he would do, I expected him to carry on and keep walking beside me. Instead he came in front of me, and crouched down signalling me to get on his back. Hesitating, I reached a hand out. But I pulled it back, he’s still a stranger to me, a beautiful stranger, a compassionate stranger. But a stranger is still a stranger. Pulling my hand back and shaking my head immediately, Jisoo sighed and grabbed my hands and placed them on his shoulder to ease my worries and tell me “It’s okay”. I should trust him for a bit, all of this will be forgotten. For him. It’ll become a distant memory for him. Slowly, I climbed on his back and let him carry me the rest of the way back to my hotel. It was warm, the last time I was carried like this was by my sisters. But this time, I didn’t remember that. I remembered my father. I don’t have many memories of my father, as he passed when I was 8 years old. I remembered the times before he was always hospitalised, I remembered the times he used to tickle me to wake up, how he used to promise to buy books for me. And how my brother used to try to fill that void for me, when father could n