It was a cold late night on a quiet Sunday. The shops lining the streets were all closed. Tattered posters hung from the walls and only streetlights lit them.

  He knew he shouldn’t be here, but as usual, he didn’t listen. He was intensely curious as to what would happen tonight, knowing it couldn’t be anything good. Yira rarely seemed bother by anything, what could affect her seemed impermissible in his eyes.

  The streets were empty, with only the occasional lone car rolling by. It was the desolation of night that really reminded him that this was a poor area. Not particularly clean and bearing a less than savoury reputation.

  His phone sounded in his pocket. For a second he thought it was Yira, she was the only one who would know where he was, but to his surprise he saw Chaerin’s name on the screen.

  He wondered what it could be. He hadn’t heard from her much the past day or more. She mentioned increased stress from a greater workload so he didn’t pressure her about it.

  We need to talk. Can you meet me at the picnic area by Han River at ten?

  His brow furrowed a little. “We need to talk” was never a good thing, but he replied with a yes and slipped the device back in his pocket before continuing on.

  He raised his head to see the shadows of three lanky men ahead of him, whispering to each other as they hovered outside of Yira’s family shop. Taehyung was slow to react, not quite understanding what he saw, until he caught sight of the raised arm, brick in hand and aimed at the window.

  His eyes grew wide and he started running. “Hey!” he barked.

  “!” they cursed, looking at each other as if searching for orders before scattering, but before they could leave, Taehyung lunged forward and caught one by the arm.

  “What the hell were you doing?!” he questioned angrily, his grip twisting the sleeve of his hoodie.

  The man panicked like a captured animal and swung the brick at him, but Taehyung swiftly caught him by the wrist and yanked it out of his grasp before tossing it onto the concrete with a heavy clunk.

  The other two looked panicked. “What the hell do we do now?” they hissed.

  “Who ing cares, there’s only one of him! Get him!”

  Suddenly, Taehyung found himself being circled by three hooded men, shadows masking their face and fists raised. His heart beat rose as he was suddenly thrown into a fight.

  They lunged at him, one swinging a fist at him, but he ducked and shoved him into the shop door, rattling the hinges. The second man came at him and Taehyung grabbed him by the arm and twisted it into his back before throwing him into the third assailant, knocking him down like a bowling pin.

  The first man scrambled to get up, propelling himself from the door and drunkenly stumbling into him with arms outstretched like claws, but Taehyung elbowed him in the chin, sending his head backward into the window.

  Distracted by the first attacker, he didn’t see the man lurching toward him and he was tackled into the door, the man’s arms wrapped firmly around his torso, squeezing the breath out of him.

  He slammed his hands onto the wood and pushed himself back, twisting around to see the man, but with another grunt and shove, he was knocked back into the door where his head banged the surface like a drum and he cried out in pain.

  “Argh!” he yelled. “Get off me!”

  Taehyung tried to pull the man off him, throwing his hoodie back and grabbing fistfuls of his hair, but the man had a grip like a bear and seemed determined to take him down. The others stumbled to their feet and approached with curses on their breath and fury in their eyes.

  Suddenly filled with panic, Taehyung twisted off the wall and raised his clasped hands before dropping it down like an axe into the man’s head, making him yell in pain and fall to the fall, releasing his death grip.

  With the other two enclosing on him, he ran to the side and tackled the one on his right before swinging a punch at the other. It was a clumsy brawl as they each grabbed each other, trying to hit but leaving each other no room to do so, wrestling for space.

  He got hit in the stomach, and felt the blow of an elbow to his ribs, but he grabbed the man by the collar and shook him from side to side like a rag doll before throwing him into a streetlight.

  “Get him!”

  Before he could even realise what happened, he was hooked under both arms from behind and hoisted into a lock position. The second man dashed in front of him, raising a fist at his unprotected torso, but before the hit could land, Taehyung raised both arms straight in the air, and slipped down, narrowly missing the punch that buried itself in his partner’s stomach.

  The man cried out in pain and er punched his partner in the face. “What the man!”

  The second man cradled his bloody nose. “Oh my God, he moved last minute you !”

  Taehyung hopped back and repressed a cackle at their amateur mistake. The underarm lock commonly seen in cartoons was the easiest lock to escape from.

  But his celebration was cut short as he was tackled from behind again by the third person. He tumbled across the sidewalk, the rough concrete grating his skin. He kneed his assailant in the side but he didn’t let go. They wrestled on the ground, Taehyung trying to get up but the man stubbornly pulling him down.

  “Screw it let’s just run!” yelled one with the bleeding nose.

  “No, we don’t get ing paid without damage!”

  Before Taehyung could do anything, he watched helplessly as the man grabbed the fallen brick and threw it into the window, shattering the glass into glinting tiny pieces that tinkled across the shop floor.

  Suddenly, he was let go, thrown to the side as all three of them turned tail and ran.

  Taehyung clambered to get up, roughly yanking out his phone as he jumped to his feet.

  “Hello, police?!” he yelled. “I’ve witnessed vandalism and an assault!”

  He chased after them, quickly ending the call before stuffing it carelessly back into his pocket. He trailed behind them as they dashed down the empty street before splitting up into separate directions.

  But Taehyung didn’t slow. He knew he couldn’t get all of them on his own, so he kept his eye firmly on the one remaining he could see, not giving him a chance to escape.

  He ran into an alley where he met with a dead end. Panicked, his eyes darted like he was possessed, searching for a way out, but Taehyung tackled him into the ground.

  He writhed clumsily beneath him. Taehyung could tell he was the least experienced fighter, but he was as desperate as a flailing fish out of water, kicking and swinging without rest.

  A few clumsy blows landed on Taehyung’s body but he ignored them, pinning the man down by his neck. The hood fell back and a stray ray of light shone onto his face, revealing a brunet teenager.

  Momentarily stunned by his youth, Taehyung loosened his grip, and the brunet took the opportunity to swing a punch at his cheek. Taehyung cried out in pain but grabbed the boy by the wrist and swung a punch of his own directly into his face with a sickening crack, splitting his lip.

  “Who the hell are you?!” Taehyung interrogated. “Did Ji Sukjin pay you? Did he pay to to vandalise the shop?”

  The boy grunted under his grip but shot him an indignant look and a snarl. “I’m not telling you , get off me!”

  Before he knew what happened, Taehyung was kneed in the stomach and he toppled to the side, groaning as he clutched his gut. Before he could react, the boy twisted onto his fours, leapt to his feet, and sprinted away out of his sight.

  Taehyung coughed as he up righted himself, feeling internal pain from his blow. Feeling something wet on his cheek, he realised he must be bleeding. He muttered bitterly under his breath, both from being blind sighted and also from letting all three of them get away.

  As he prepared to leave, his eyes caught sight of something pale on the ground; a wrinkled stack of paper table napkins, too clean to have been discarded here. Did he leave them behind?

  As the sirens of police sounded from nearby, he picked them up and placed them in his pocket before hurrying to meet the police.

***

  “Crap, crap, crap!” he cursed as he hopped out of his car and ran onto the grass.

  The police held him much longer than he had expected, interrogating him on what happened and asking for details. They called Yira’s father which only prolonged his stay as the man was both thankful and sorry for his intervention.

  Ten o’ clock passed, and then eleven. And now as he ran across the park, the time on his phone read twelve. He stopped by the swing set, scanning the grounds. He was beyond late; Chaerin had probably returned home.

  But to his surprise, he saw her tiny figure, curled up like an abandoned child on a park bench.

  “Chae!” he called out, panting as he was out of breath. “I’m so sorry I’m this late, this thing came up and then the police came and I ended up staying way longer than I thought I’d be. I’m so sorry.”

  Slowly, she raised her face from her knee and dropped her feet on the ground, showing him a smile that disguised her fatigue. “That’s alright.” Her eyes grew wide at the scrape on his cheek. “What happened to your face?”

  He quickly hid his injury with his hand. “I got into sort of a fight. Some s tried to vandalise Yira’s store and they broke a window. I called the police and the whole thing sort of turned into a mess. I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head and gave melancholy smile. “No, that’d alright. You’re always the kind to help, and you always put her first.”

  “What?” he asked, a little stunned. “No I-”

  “You didn’t hang up, Tae,” she whispered.

  “I didn’t hang up what?”

  She stood up and looked him in the eye, tall, strong, but calm. “That day I called you for help. I was having a rough day at a shoot. I couldn’t concentrate, and the photographer kept criticising me at every turn before they gave up and the shoot had to be postponed. I called you to talk, but you said something came up and you hung up on me, except you didn’t.”

  Realisation dawned on his face. “Wait! That-”

  “It’s okay,” she interrupted coolly. “I guess I knew a little bit inside. You always put her first.” She stepped back, and took in a deep breath. “Let’s break up.”

  His eyes grew wide. “Wait a minute! I’m so sorry I did that but-”

  “It’s okay,” she repeated with a smile. “I don’t hold anything against you. I always knew you were just for loan, that’s why we never got into anything serious. I had fun with you.” She sighed but looked content. “But I want to date someone who likes me the most. I know this sounds hypocritical from someone who always put her job ahead of everyone else, but what I mean is that I don’t want to be someone’s number two. I don’t want to be the second choice to someone who loves someone else more. I know I deserve that.”

  His lips tightened into a straight line and he looked to the ground. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” she chuckled. “You’re a really great guy, don’t doubt that. You put up with all my erratic schedules and below standard date ideas. But I’m a model, I’m not used to sharing the attention,” she joked. “But I also know I’m not your dream girl, and you deserve that too.”

  She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Promise we’ll still be friends?”

  Taehyung nodded. “Yeah.”  

  She lifted his face up with light fingers on his cheeks. “You had another girlfriend before me right?” she asked. “I’m sorry I’m making all the decisions here, but I’ll ask you something that will make things clear for you.”

  She looked at him with her kind eyes framed by heavy eyeliner. “When you look at me, who do you wish was standing before you right now?” asked Yira’s copper visage, her black tresses swaying in the wind as she smiled at him.

  The same image he saw when he last stood before his ex-girlfriend.

  He lowered her hand, and whispered. “I’m sorry…”

***

  He sat alone on the park bench, the moonlight illuminating his lone figure as the wind whistled through the trees, the only sound to be heard in the new day that was still dark as night.

  He sighed. He supposed he saw it coming. Chaerin always seemed a little too good for him, and he knew she was right when she said she deserved better.

  It still stung though. Break ups always hurt no matter how well it ended, but for once he was glad that he wasn’t left feeling awkward afterwards. He still had trouble meeting his ex-girlfriend’s eye in school.

  He took the napkin out of his pocket. It had looked white in the moonlight, but on closer inspection it was actually the colour of cardboard, made of recycled materials. The logo of the café printed on the corners.

  He tucked the tissues away, the memory of the teenager’s face still fresh in his mind.

  Now wasn’t the time to feel sorry for himself. He’ll get up, go home, and wake up early tomorrow.

  There was somewhere he needed to go.