"We haven't spoke since you went away,
Comfortable silence is so overrated..."

One of the most common things a writer goes through is the “slump” wherein they can’t move on from where they left off in their story, or in layman’s terms: writers’ block. 

Ji Hyun sits in the middle of the hotel living room, legs curled up under her as she settled on the furry, cream carpet, typing away her woes and backspacing everything all at once. The cycle is still ongoing for two hours now, and both Eugene and Sabine thought that she needed some time alone, which is why she had the freedom to flail around on the floor as she tried to bridge together the scenes she had in mind. The worst part is that she hasn’t even envisioned how their dialogue will play out, and it’s giving her so much frustration that she almost threw her laptop away from her. She wasn’t even sure if the cause of her lack of ideas and focus was due to her losing interest in writing the story, or is it because of the coming days where she had to return on set and see him for almost every day of the week until the end of the press tour. Either way, this was definitely making her lose her mind. 

It didn't help either that the first thing that she saw on the entertainment site was an interview of him. It was mostly about his win for the project he was in last year, and it was upvoted by multiple people due to his honest answers, and his praises for the famous actors that worked with him. It felt like it was impossible for her to escape him, and so, she had to go offline to keep herself in check, typing and backspacing away her ideas until she could come up with something that could bridge everything together, but alas, she just couldn't make sense of what she was writing. Her hands itched to grab her phone, but she found herself looking at the large glass window by her, the midday traffic jam in Seoul manifesting by the roads below. It was one of the things that made her realize that Seoul was just as similar as New York, aside from the bustling crowds, and the hassle in public transport at times, but if she were to choose where to live, she would rather be back in Incheon, or maybe Busan or Jeju, with her relatives. Maybe somewhere in Europe, preferrably Prague. She could be anywhere in the world if she chose, just as long as she felt secured and at peace, maybe warm and cozy, where she will feel like she was home. 

Home. It was a distant word for her somehow, but it held a lot of meanings. Home was waking up to the sound of sirens and car horns in the bustling streets of New York. Home was drinking the fresh brew from Mabel's Coffee Place in your thermos as you sit in your apartment when there's a blizzard. Home was eating hangover soup after a night of drinking at a pocha by Itaewon. Home was drinking beer and eating fried chicken while you watched the makjangs on your television. Home was... waking up to crushed cans of beer by the coffee table while a pair of arms are wrapped around your body. Home was the sandalwood scent that filled your senses as he nuzzles his face into your neck. Home was his fluffy bear jackets draped across your body during spring time when you're taking a walk on Central Park as he held you close. Home was...

She didn't dare to continue. She didn't want to admit it still. Instead, she closed her laptop and grabbed her notebook, some cash, and her key card by the sofa, grabbing her brown, furry coat on her way out. She cursed her thoughts for even going there, knowing how she knew how it was going to end in that one damned point in her life. She really needed to stop thinking about that time, and she needed to stop thinking about their past altogether. But, how does one forget the past if the problem still exists in the present? Such thoughts fill her mind as she walked outside of her hotel, turning at the familiar blocks and corners of her way until she found it: Seoul Forest, a wide-spaced park that housed different attractions that varied from sculptures that stood at her height, or even past it, leaves and pebbles arranged into artworks, bridges of wood or metal stretching towards sides of paths towards the Hangang river or the petting zoos. But her personal favorite, the one she's finding her way in with her combat boots, was the secluded pathway lined with trees of maple, gingko, and some sakuras. The fallen leaves and flowers make the path look like a warm wonderland, not to mention how there was little to no sound aside from the chirping of birds and crickets. It was something out of a postcard, combined with the blue skies and the way the sunlight hits the ground. She was off to find that one spot she always knew: the rickety wooden swing, right by the stone sculptures and the fountains, that had the clearest view of the river, as well as the Seoul skyline. Each step was a shot of nostalgia into her body, that warm, aching feeling coming back to her as she approached her favorite site. But somehow, the sight that appeared to her as she reached her destination gave her more than a shot of nostalgia. Instead, it was like a tsunami of it hitting her, chills running down her body from the mix of the cold winds and the image in front of her. 

Out of all days and times, she found his figure sitting by the swing, a black turtleneck hidden under a gray hoodie, a black face mask hiding his nose and mouth, a pair of blue jeans and some combat boots to match, and a brown, furry coat to tie it altogether. He was too occupied with the book he was reading, his eyebrows furrowed as he turned another page of the book, but he was occupied enough to not see how her face paled, how her adrenaline shot up, and how hesitant she was to continue on with her steps. Her heart ached as he watched him, wanting nothing more but to be close to him, but it was like she had no right to do so. He may be unaware of it, but she always thought about how beautiful he looked, even after all this time. She sighs, either in admiration or in pain, and somehow, it made him dart up his eyes from his book, his gaze placed on her. She turned away immediately, not expecting that a reaction would come from him. She briskly walked away from the site, but not before she heard his voice call him. 

"Miss Nam!"

She stops in her tracks, squeezing her eyes shut as she slowly turned to him, a stoic expression on her face. She watched as he slowly sauntered towards her, his book clasped in one hand while another was inside his pocket. 

"What brings you here?" His eyebrows raised, an unreadable expression on his face. 

"Writer's block." She cleared . "What about you?"

"Clearing my head." He shrugged. "It helps you breathe when you're stuffed with projects back to back."

"I see." She nodded, before looking down at the book by his hand, until she realized it wasn't a book at all.

"It was better to review the script here." He spoke as she looked back at him, a soft gaze in his eyes as he looked back at her. "I like reading it here since it gave off a different atmosphere. It matches the mood."

She nodded as he continued. "I'm not lying when I said the script is wonderful. I'm honestly honored that I was chosen to get this project. It had some great elements and the genres you fused looked equal and well-mixed. I'm sure people will enjoy it."

"Thank you." She returned with a small smile. 

"It's a great body of work jagi— I mean, Mi