A week after your ill-fated family reunion, Saturday morning dawns a brilliant blue. The clear skies and crisp autumn air are doing nothing for your sour mood as you head out on what is certain to be an exhausting day. While TirTech pays decently, especially considering all your recent overtime hours, your weekends are still dedicated to making up the difference in covering your bills through a part-time job. There’s an eight-block walk to the small chain cafe where you work, and errands to run after. At the very least you’re thankful not to have gotten the opening shift, sleep having been scarce for you lately.

The leaves are living up to the name of the season, having fallen all around you as you pass a park, creating a sea of brown and red on the sidewalk. Saturdays in your neighborhood are as busy as any weekday, and the relatively good weather has drawn people out from their homes to enjoy the last rays of sunlight before the dark of winter arrives. You’re fairly good at dodging through the crowd of people on your brisk walk to work, not even bothering to look up, but the flash of an old face passing by jolts you out of your inattention.

Familiar green eyes set on a brown, freckled face meet yours for a split second from the oncoming rush of strangers on the street. You stop in place, spinning around and disrupting the flow of traffic on the sidewalk making quite a few people grumble around you. Try as you might, however, you can’t spot the head of dark curls you’re expecting to see. Heart slowly thudding its way back to a normal rhythm, you give up and continue on before you’re late for work.

You’re waiting at a crosswalk still bleary-eyed and pessimistic, shoes lit red by the “Do Not Walk” indicator built into street. The light turns green as you spot a second familiar face. Hakyeon’s friend stands across the street from the cafe where you work, earbuds in and bleach-blond head bobbing along to the music. You have no idea what he’s doing here, but you pick up your pace, hoping to pass by unnoticed.

As your luck would have it, he looks up and locks eyes with yours briefly, greeting you with a cheery wag of his fingers. You roll your eyes so hard they hurt a little, and yank open the glass door to the cafe, rushing to the back to clock in. There’s no morning rush of commuters to deal with on Saturdays, so the only customers are a trendy couple whispering to each other over a pop song playing on the store radio.

Slipping on an apron, you join your coworker and sort-of friend at the register to relieve her of the tray of cakes she’s balancing.

“Oh man am I glad you’re here,” Mimi says, steadying the phone in the crook of her shoulder. “Someone messed up the stock order this week and we’re low on pretty much every blend of coffee. And some guy called in a huge birthday order this morning for his kid, so I have to help the bakery guys put that together.”

You quickly get to work gently placing the intricately decorated cakes in their display case. The cafe is no Starbucks, but the hand-ground coffee and bakery items have garnered their own small fanbase. Gimmicky or not, handmade items have their place in the age of automation.

After depositing the tray in the back, you’re getting ready to open the other register when Mimi leans over to whisper conspiratorially.

“You got a new boyfriend? That guy’s been staring at you since you got here.”

You whip your head up to look where she’s indicating, and your stomach gives an uncomfortable lurch. Jaehwan is sitting by himself at a seat by the window, a smile splitting his face as your eyes widen.

“Are you serious?”

Mimi is startled by your hiss, but you’re already marching over where he’s sitting, determined to put a stop to this.

Jaehwan’s smile doesn’t budge at your incensed expression. “Good morning, Princess.”

You almost smack him. Almost. Figuring it’s against corporate policy to hit a customer, you grit your teeth.

“Why are you here?” you manage to grind out.

“I heard this place has the best Americano in the city,” Jaehwan answers, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

You hold back a snort of disbelief at that. “Well, you’ll have to order at the counter, we’re not table service.”

You swing around and head back to the register. Jaehwan unfortunately follows right after, eliciting a cheeky smile and a nudge from Mimi, to your indignation.

“I’m gonna go back and help the bakers, you take all the time you need,” she stage whispers, walking away with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

“She’s quite nice,” Jaehwan says evenly.

“A treasure,” you respond, deadpan. “Are you going to order?”

“Hmm.” He contemplates the menu, then fixes you with a look entirely incongruous with his sunshine demeanor. “How about… an answer for Hakyeon?”

You shouldn’t be taken aback, but you are. “What?”

“Are you coming back to the motherland to help with our glorious revolution and all that. Hakyeon needs an answer.”

Something about his gaze makes you shift uncomfortably. “I haven’t given it enough thought,” you say noncommittally.

“Time is running out, Princess.” He’s leaning on the counter, chin in hand.

You force yourself to break from his eyes, backing away to busy yourself with the espresso machine.

“Who even are you, Hakyeon’s personal assistant?” Your cousin’s influence in your life is rarely this heavy handed.

“Do you really not remember?”

His tone makes you look up. Head tilted, he’s considering you with an intense curiosity.

You furrow your brows and turn back to your task. “Should I remember? Feel free to enlighten me.”

He shakes his head with another smile. “If you don’t remember then there’s no point.”

That’s not cryptic at all, you think to yourself sourly. Tired of this exchange, you place a to-go cup on the counter, slightly less gently than intended.

“Here’s your Americano, on the house. Have a nice day!” Your dismissal isn’t exactly subtle, and Jaehwan gets the hint, tipping his cup in a jaunty toast to you.

“I’ll see you around, Princess.”

His words come true much earlier than you had hoped.

You take a longer, more winding route back home than usual, opting to walk an extra few blocks in case Jaehwan is still following you around, not that he’d have an easy time picking you out in these busy Saturday night crowds. Your eyes burn from lack of sleep and the glare of neon lights.

You’re taking a familiar shortcut through a side alley when you hear footsteps behind you. Thoroughly irritated now, you swing around to face your tail.

“Enough is enough, I told you—”

You stop abruptly, because neither of the two figures you see are the annoying blond you’ve come to expect.

“Long time no see, Birdy.”

The use of your old nickname sends your heart into overdrive; the ghosts of your past have been very active recently. There is the curly-headed boy you were expecting to see this morning, just taller now than you had anticipated, and accompanied by another you remember. They came to you in their childhood, but now they’re just barely adults. It’s a lie to say you hadn’t anticipated their reappearance in your life, but you don’t particularly like being right in this instance.

“Didn’t think you’d run this far out of the city to get away from Bridge.” The taller of the two boys, whose name you had never actually learned, is leering at you unconvincingly. You remember him being a quiet, lanky kid when you first met him, shyly greeting you as a new recruit.

You say nothing, instead staring into a pair of green eyes with something resembling disappointment. This one you remember better. Kuyi, the small messenger in your little group, reminded you painfully of your own orphaned self, and you’d taken him under your wing at the time.

“How come you didn’t say hi this morning, Kuyi?” you manage finally.

Kuyi’s brown skin flushes ever so slightly, and he looks at his feet when he answers. “You weren’t supposed to see me.”

“You were always better at digital intel, buddy,” you say almost apologetically. Some part of your racing heart softens, remembering the countless hours you two had spent sitting in front of screens, scoping out potential targets. But the past is meant to stay in the past.

“What do you want?” you ask, trying not to let your guard down.

“We just want our Birdy back,” the tall one says, entirely insincerely. “Bridge wants to talk.”

The memories turn sour, and you steel your resolve. You’d been ignoring the mysterious messages on your phone for the past couple weeks for a reason, but you didn’t think he’d actually stoop to sending the kids out to find you.

“Bridge can go himself.”

The frown on Kuyi’s face almost makes you feel bad, but you can’t let yourself be swayed. The taller boy is stepping toward you, and you’re thinking maybe it’s about time you run.

“Aww, don’t be like that, just come back with us.”

He grabs your wrist and you’re in full panic mode. Twisting your hand as best you can, you try to loosen his grip enough to run, but his much larger hand holds fast. Desperate, you use your free hand to pry open his fingers, bending one of them back as far as you can until you hear a crack.

The boy howls in pain and releases you, growling in anger. “You broke my finger, you !”

“Touch me again and I’ll break another one,” you snarl, shaking with adrenaline and righteous fury.

He spits at you and grabs Kuyi by the collar, dragging him backwards. “Come on kid, Bridge can deal with her himself.”

You watch the two walk away, frozen in place, doing your best to comprehend what’s just happened. A voice calls out behind you, startling you further.

“What kind of thug is afraid of a broken finger?”

You whirl around, heart still racing, only to find Jaehwan. He looks thoroughly confused and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. So, you yell.

“What is wrong with you?!”

Jaehwan blinks rapidly, pouting a little. “Me? I’m not the one that assaulted you.”

“You follow me around all day and you don’t even have the decency to show up the one time I’m actually in trouble,” you rant, your nerves completely frayed.

“I wasn’t following you,” he says, still frowning.

“How are you here right now?!”

“Hakyeon asked me to keep an eye on you. You didn’t get home when you were supposed to, so I went looking for you,” he says, shrugging mildly.

You don’t even have the energy to figure out if that makes sense or not, so you give up and start walking home, leaving Jaehwan in the alley. He runs after you, long legs closing the distance easily. You’ve still got a few blocks to your apartment, and you have no idea who else might show up, so you don’t even complain.

“Hey, you handled yourself pretty well though,” he says, apparently feeling guilty.

You roll your eyes. “Those kids weren’t any actual threat. I practically changed their diapers back in the day.”

“There’s a story there,” Jaehwan says expectantly. When you say nothing, he continues. “What did they want?”

You make a face, not quite sure you want to share this aspect of your life with a stranger.

“They’re from an old, um, group I used to be a part of,” you say, all too aware of the vagueness.

Jaehwan raises an eyebrow, and you feel your cheeks heat in mild embarrassment.

“I’m not with them anymore, I have a real job now and I haven’t been in that kind of work for a long time.”

“What kind of work?” Jaehwan’s lips twitch in what you’re sure is a mocking smile, but you’re doing your best not to look at him for too long.

“The less than legal kind.”

“You were in a gang?” he laughs, unable to hold back his amusement anymore.

You stop abruptly, definitely embarrassed now, and you fight the urge to hit him for the second time today.

“Not a gang!” you yell, trying to control the pitch of your voice. “Just, like, a social group that occasionally, ah, procured funds and stuff in morally ambiguous ways.”

“So,” Jaehwan says, drawing out the word. “A gang.”

You roll your eyes and take off again in a huff, followed by a laughing Jaehwan. You’re seriously rethinking this entire conversation.

“And they want you back?”

You shrug, a little unsure of the situation yourself. “Seems that way. Bridge has been sending me creepy messages, but I didn’t think he’d ever send people after me.”

“Bridge?”

You make another pained face. “Leader of the um, social group. And ty ex-boyfriend,” you mutter under your breath.

“You dated a guy named Bridge?” He’s still laughing and you wish it didn’t make you feel so very stupid.

“That’s not the point!”

Jaehwan apparently has an annoying tendency to latch onto the smallest details. He holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“We met in school after I moved to the city. He was still running small-time scams then. He asked me to help him with some computer systems, general intel stuff,” you admit regretfully. “I was young, and I had no friends. I left eventually, but not before I helped him steal a lot of money. It seems he’s still fixated.”

Your face is dark, and Jaehwan is quiet for once, struggling for words.

“Does Hakyeon know?” he asks softly.

You shrug, feeling sorry for yourself. You’ve arrived at your apartment and you want nothing more than to collapse in bed. Jaehwan is considering you curiously again and seems to come to a conclusion.

“Give me your phone,” he says with no preface.

You wordlessly unlock your cell phone and hand it over, out of fight for the day. He quickly swipes through and hands it back.

“There, now you have my number if they show up again.”

You’re touched, but also not sure how you feel about his worming into your life further. He leaves you at your doorstep, humming to himself as he walks away.