When Hanbin arrives home that night, he feels like the world is taken off his shoulder. The weight is gone, but it’s only for the rest of the day. When his eyes wake up to morning the next, he longs for the same freedom, for the wind against his face like he hasn’t done it in so long.

His feet take him to the training center within moments, and he locks himself in one of the rooms, craving for the freedom he can also achieve by losing himself in the music. He lets the sound capture his whole being, though he doesn’t revel in the feeling as he’s been losing himself too much these days. He loses himself in everything, suffocating, drowning, and he wonders for a second whether he’ll ever retrieve Kim Hanbin. He doesn’t attain the freedom as it only imprisons him, makes him long for yesterday and breathing while suffocating in tears. His body is spent though, and he doesn’t think he has enough tears to cry.

Wednesday has Hanbin running to the same place, winter biting cold against his cheeks. The cold brings color to his face, paints his nose a tint of red but all Hanbin can see is the fog coming from his mouth, and a mop of black hair amidst the white.

The stranger’s seated on the bench, senses heightened as though he is waiting for someone. Perhaps he is, because his head turns at the sound of Hanbin’s approaching footsteps. They meet eye to eye, an almost surprised look coloring Hanbin’s features while the stranger looks like he’s expected Hanbin to come.

“How long have you been here?” Hanbin asks, voice unsure as though he is afraid to break the silence. It’s a strange thing to say to someone you meet for the first time, and oddly enough, Hanbin doesn’t feel like it’s the first time.

He stops in his tracks, a few footsteps away and lets his eyes study the stranger who seems very small, huddled in his bright yellow parka that seems too big for him. Like Hanbin, he’s pink in the face and he’s breathing out white puffs of steam.

He turns away from Hanbin like it isn’t enough a conversation starter, but scoots closer to the edge of his seat, and Hanbin takes it as an invitation to take the space beside him.

When Hanbin leans against the backrest, a silence settles on to them. For a second, he wonders what he’s doing there, why he was almost sure that he would meet someone if he came back.

He wonders what the stranger is doing there, and takes into consideration that the man is a psychopath, after all, which sane man stays in the cold for whatever reason? Hanbin is an exception to that though. He’s—well he’s a runaway in a sense, and the man looks anything but troubled. He seems perfectly fine, and the calm surrounding the stranger is comforting. It salves Hanbin’s heart that should have been frantic against his chest since he did break out into a sprint to come here. That isn’t the case.

It’s almost magical. The little place under the bridge is another world within Mapo. Time seems like an irrelevant thing around here, a big break from Hanbin’s high speed chase.

The stranger reaches into a pocket and retrieves a handkerchief, which he hands Hanbin next.

Hanbin reaches out his gloved hand and hesitates, a puzzled look on his face, before he accepts it.

The stranger explains, “Just in case,” and he offers a smile. Hanbin can’t help but smile back.

They part twenty minutes later, with the promise of meeting again after two weeks, a Nice