“I’ll be going now.” Aeri pushes her weight on both hands over the counter, craning her neck to see owner of the bakery, Mrs. Jung, busy in the kitchen before closing time.

“Walk safe!” She yells back a reply, sparing no glance at her favourite employee.

“I will.” Aeri hums, she walked safe alright, it was the streets that weren’t most evenings. It had only started to get dark, and the streets were slowly emptying –there was no such thing as nightlife around here.

Flipping the sign on her way out, the bell chimes as she exits the store. Aeri was always in a hurry, an adaptation she’d come to possess ever since she started walking. To be unaware of her surroundings was a tendency that followed after, something she had trouble getting rid of. And so Seungyoon never took it to heart the fact that she would always walk past him, even after spending quite some time waiting for her outside. Though time wasn’t an issue, for Seungyoon it never was.

He scurries right in her way, a grin on his face as always whenever he sees her. She crashes into him and Seungyoon couldn’t help but laugh at the astonished look that scribbled her delicate features.

“For god’s sake– Seungyoon!” She cries, stepping back as she stare bullet holes into the young man.

“That’s why you should use your eyes when you walk, miss.” He chuckles, adjusting the cap he’s got on to see her better.

“Ha ha, I use my legs.” She retorts, brows knotting to a frown.

Seungyoon looks different this time, surely it wasn’t entirely her fault for missing him. A long sleeved sweatshirt and faded jeans, loose on his lanky legs, replaced his formal attire. There were no signs of his fancy jewelry either. He’d been getting her memo by the looks of it.

“Can I walk you home?” Seungyoon shoots her a smile, one that a peeved Aeri refuses to return.

“No. You talk too much.” Aeri mutters as she resumes her steps forward, walking past him.

“You listen anyway.” He matches her quick pace, paying no attention to her empty refusal.

The two walked in silence for a minute or two and Seungyoon didn’t mind. Aeri mostly kept to herself but when she talks, he could listen to her all day.

“You’re working longer shifts, everything okay?”

“I know I don’t have much but I do have my dignity, Seungyoon-ah.” She was quick to catch on to what he had meant, feeling slightly offended.

“I’m just saying I can help, how much do you have on you?”

“I don’t go nosing around asking for yours, so put a sock in it.” She quips back, in all honesty she just preferred not to know at all, convinced that the amount of time he has was something her sanity cannot comprehend.

Night has fallen and cool air fleets through the deserted streets. The two have gotten quiet once more and Aeri catches the sound of a truck rolling over a metal grate somewhere across the street.

“Aeri?” Seungyoon breaks the silence that hung between them, mildly startling her.

“Hm?” She continues to look down to her feet, her worn out sneakers a contrast to his. Seungyoon always wore a different pair, it made her wonder how many he owns. Tens? Hundreds? The thought dizzied her for some reason and she looks up to him instead.

“Are you happy?” His eyes met hers and the cap he has on failed to shadow his downcast stare.

It was a loaded question and one that caught her off guard.

“I am, I think.”

“You think? When you’re happy, you’re happy. You don’t think about it.” He laughs wistfully and Aeri feels that tug in her chest.

Even if Seungyoon have never mentioned anything of the sort, she could tell that he has trouble at home. Why else would he wander around here? It must be something serious for him to find comfort in a place that was anything but comforting.

“Are you?” She resorts to ignore his words, “Are you happy, Kang Seungyoon?”

“Lee Aeri, I’ll let you in a little secret.” His voice rasped through the smile on his full lips. He turns to face her, long fingers gently wrapped around her shoulders as if to brace her for what he was about to say, “When you have all the time in the world, no one gives a if you’re happy or not.”

//

That night Aeri finds herself padding into the living room, a pillow and blanket tucked under both arms. Her thoughts have kept her awake and it annoyed her to waste time when she couldn’t sleep. Flopping the pillow on the floor next to the couch Seunghoon sleeps in, she prods her brother’s feet that hung over the edge of the furniture.

They have long moved out of their family home, settling into a tiny one bedroom apartment, one that they could afford. Seunghoon insisted the bedroom for her, earning him this spot in the living room ever since then.

Seunghoon whines, disturbed from his sleep. He props up anyway, heavy eyes narrowing as he adjusts to the darkness of the room.

“What’s wrong?” He croaks out, rubbing a hand through his dishevelled hair in haste.

“Are you happy, Hoon?” The words rolled out her tongue without effort as she curls up under the blanket on the floor.

“That’s a loaded question.” Seunghoon drops back into his pillow and Aeri chuckles into her arm hearing her brother’s snappy response. It was the same one she had earlier when Seungyoon asked her the same thing.

“What’s so funny?” He mumbles, rolling onto his stomach to peek at his sister. Aeri always had him on his toes, never knowing what it was that went through her mind.

“Are you happy?”

“I am, I think.”

“Okay, now you’re just scaring me!” She gasps, throwing a punch at his arm as she sits up out of reflex.

“You weirdo, go back to sleep.”

“Are you really, Hoon?”

“If you’re happy, then I am too.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“It is. It is for me.”

//

“Two years ago, in the summer.” Jinwoo swallows thickly, arms crossed over his chest when he leans back on the kitchen chair.

Minho frowns and Jinwoo sees the confusion in his face. A faint smile forms at the corner of his lips, “Drop the act, man. You’ve been staring at my wrist since you got here.”

With his left wrist facing upwards, Jinwoo trails a light finger over his countdown that ceased two summers ago. “You know what I got for our anniversary?”

The air seemed to have lightened up, it’s on rare occasions that Jinwoo would open up like this. And Minho took the chance to ease his burning curiosity, quirking an amused brow in response to Jinwoo’s question.

“Her head, wrapped in a box.”

He took it back. Minho felt bile crawling at the back of his throat, to think that he’d witnessed much worse right before his eyes, his stomach had always been weak.

“Sick fu– who did it?” Minho chokes on his words, rubbing both hands over his face.

“–even had the courtesy to tie her up with a bow.” Through his bleak laugh, Jinwoo’s hands trembled as he grips his knees.

“Who was it, hyung?”

“I’ve made enough enemies, Minho,” Jinwoo shifts to his feet, gathering the empty plates into the sink, “You know damn well I can hunt down whoever it was to the ends of hell if that’s what it takes– it doesn’t matter. It won’t bring her back.”

Minho remains quiet, a mess of words swirling in his head and he fails to find the right thing to say. He felt like an , secretly glad that he wouldn’t have to worry about such thing. Yet it was a lie to say that the thought didn’t cross his mind.

Even through the defeat Jinwoo expressed, it was hard to look past the pain and caustic anger behind his words. To know that someone could hold him back from a murderous rage –something Jinwoo was truly capable of, can someone really have this much effect on you?

“How about that job at the warehouse downtown?” Jinwoo was quick to spring away from the topic, it hurt him internally and he despised showing this side of him.

“Y–yes. Sure, I’ll look into it.” Shock still lingered in him, Minho was left alone as Jinwoo bids a brisk goodnight. Yet not quick enough for Minho to miss his senior’s shaky hand, clasped over a cup of water.

//

They say the people in your dreams are projections of those you’ve met or seen in reality. If this was true, Minho was dead sure that he would have remembered her. The first dream of many still clear in his memory.

A storm rolled in as thunder roared from a distance. Caught in heavy rainfall, Minho runs towards the nearest store for temporary cover. The bell rings through his ears as he closes the door behind him, shutting out the loud splattering of rain just outside. It was a cafe of some sort, or a bakery perhaps. Just like every other store in the area, it was empty with no customer in sight. That or it’s just not of any convenience to be out an about in this weather. He stood by the door, worried that his dirt drenched boots might ruin the spotless floor. Minho looks out through the glass walls, a dog’s muted bark echoed through the streets and his eyes scans the vicinity for the poor creature.

“May I help you?” A raspy, feminine voice appears, smacking him out of his focus. Minho turns to see a young woman standing behind the counter.

There was something in her soft gaze that made Minho feel stripped all of a sudden. She didn’t smile and her unblinking stare was somewhat demanding.

“I’m sorry but would you mind if I stayed here for a while? It’s raining out.” Minho gestures his thumb over the shoulder to the downpour outside.

“Oh, sure.” She softens at the realization and just then Minho catches a small smile as she turns to the side, she was gorgeous. “You need to buy something though.”

“Yeah, I will.” A gentle laugh escapes him, he wasn’t sure if she was joking or not.

“It’s just that you might be here for a while,” She tips her chin to the windows, the storm increasingly erratic, “Just in case you get hungry that’s all.”  

She pursed her lips as she smiles at him properly this time, it could rain until tomorrow for all he cares.

That morning he woke up to the sound of a spoon clinking repeatedly –Jinwoo and his cup of coffee. He didn’t need an alarm most days, Jinwoo’s morning routine was enough to startle him awake.

Minho treads into the bathroom, hand over the back of his aching neck as he studies his sleep worn reflection. Just as he was about to flick the tap open, his eyes caught something he had never seen before. He blinks the slumber that still remains, a frown deepens as he leans too close into his reflection. Minho stays rigid, with one palm still on his neck, his wrist was in open view.

It was safe to say that he’d seen plenty of everything in his 25 years, but this was something else. Nothing has ever made him feel this way, at least not in a while. He could feel his heart in his throat, and the veins on his wrist throb at every flash –at every change in digit of time.

There was never a one for him, there shouldn’t be. Minho was wrecking his brain for an explanation but nothing seemed to make sense, none of this did. The zeros were no longer there and its place a countdown was inked, freshly pulsing on his wrist.

//