The morning weather forecast predicted some more snow. Small flakes fall delicately in the early afternoon, but it's nothing that should accumulate much, if at all. Kyungsoo probably won't even have to shovel.

He doesn't bother with a scarf or hat, zipping his jacket all the way and shoving his hands in his pockets, and walks the short distance to the snow-covered football field.

He doesn't expect Taeoh to be alone—because he is a very friendly boy, although shy—but he doesn't expect him to be with an adult. From the back, they could be anyone, and Kyungsoo tries to rein in the rising panic as his mind unhelpfully retrieves news headlines of abducted children.

Closer, he can hear his son chattering away, as though with an old friend. “'n everyone's like 'no, it's Frosty!' but snowmen are snow, not frost.”

“You're right,” the stranger says firmly. “It should be Snowy the Snowman.”

“Exactly!” Taeoh emphatically adds snow to his snowy snowman, smoothing it as best he can and tugging at his wrist when his mitten sticks to the surface.

Kyungsoo stands a short distance away, but his son doesn't notice. Crossing his arms, he calls, “Taeoh? Time to come inside, bud.”

His son greets him enthusiastically but doesn't drop the handfuls of snow. “Daddy! We're almost done!”

“You've been out long enough. Come on. I have hot chocolate waiting for you.”

Taeoh whines and smacks a couple more handfuls of snow onto his structure. The stranger says something, and Taeoh smiles, looking even brighter when he grabs his hand. “Daddy, can my friend have hot chocolate, too?”

“I don't think—” He gets a look at the stranger. Faux fur surrounds his face from his hood, and the parka is thick and shapeless, but he'll never forget that face.

Kim Jongin.

“Hey, Kyungsoo...”