? ???????? ???? ? phi hanwool

The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden hue over the school rooftop where Rin and Hanwool sat, their legs dangling over the edge. The city stretched before them, but Rin's focus was on the boy beside her-the boy who had once been a ghost from her past, the boy who had now become something far more important.

She had saved him once, a long time ago, on that bridge. But what she didn't know was that he had saved her too.

Hanwool's fingers drummed against his knee, his usual smirk absent. His gaze was distant, as if he were looking past the skyline and into something much darker. Rin noticed the way his jaw tensed, the way his hands twitched slightly as if holding back words that had been buried for too long.

"Rin," he finally spoke, his voice lower than usual. "Do you remember what used to happen after you left your house... after those fights with your parents?"

Rin tensed, the memories washing over her like a cold tide. The screaming. The slamming doors. The feeling of suffocation that always pushed her to run-to escape to that bridge where the night felt safer than her own home.

She nodded, her throat tightening. "I remember."

Hanwool took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair before exhaling. "You never saw me. But I was there. Every single time."

Rin's heart skipped a beat. "What...?"

Hanwool chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "You always thought you were alone when you sat under that bridge. But I was watching, just far enough that you wouldn't notice me." He turned his head slightly, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "You saved me that night on the bridge, Rin. But after that, I couldn't just... disappear. I kept coming back. And every time you ran away from home, I was there-just watching, making sure nothing happened to you."

Rin felt like the ground beneath her had shifted. She stared at him, processing the weight of his words.

"You were... watching over me?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

He nodded. "I didn't have anywhere to go either. So I'd sit nearby. Listen. Sometimes you'd talk to yourself, rant about your parents, your day... Sometimes you'd cry." His voice softened. "I hated hearing you cry."

Rin turned away, swallowing hard. The thought of him being there all those nights, unseen yet silently protecting her, sent a wave of emotions crashing through her.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" she asked, her voice almost trembling.

Hanwool hesitated. Then, with a sigh, he admitted, "Because back then... I thought I was too broken for you. I was just some messed-up kid, barely holding on. You were the only thing that felt real, but I didn't want to drag you down with me."

Rin clenched her fists in her lap. "That's so unfair," she muttered. "I could've been there for you too."

Hanwool let out a bitter laugh. "I didn't want you to save me, Rin. Not again. I wanted to be strong enough to save myself." He turned to her, his expression more serious than she had ever seen. "But now, I know I don't have to do everything alone."

Rin finally looked back at him, her chest aching with a mix of anger, sadness, and something even deeper. "You idiot," she whispered, eyes burning. "You were never alone."

Hanwool exhaled, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Yeah," he murmured, his fingers brushing against hers. "And neither were you."

Silence settled between them, but it wasn't empty. It was filled with everything unspoken, everything they had been too afraid to admit.

And for the first time in years, Rin realized-Hanwool had always been there. Even when she thought she was completely alone in the world, he had been watching over her, protecting her in the only way he knew how.

She didn't know what to say. So instead, she leaned her head against his shoulder, listening to the steady beat of his heart. And for now, that was enough.

-

Hanwool didn't move, didn't even breathe for a moment. Rin's head rested against his shoulder, her warmth seeping through the fabric of his jacket, and for the first time in years, he felt at peace. Like the weight he had been carrying-the memories, the regrets, the past-was finally loosening its grip.

Rin didn't speak either. She just sat there, her fingers curled slightly in her lap, her breaths slow and steady against him. Hanwool could tell she was absorbing everything he had told her, letting it settle deep inside her heart.

The wind picked up, ruffling her hair and carrying the faint scent of cigarette smoke from below. Somewhere on the other side of the school, students were shouting, laughing-living. But up here, it was just them.

Hanwool's fingers twitched at his side before he finally let himself do what he had wanted to for so long. Carefully, hesitantly, he reached out and laced his fingers through Rin's. He expected her to pull away, to stiffen, but she didn't. Instead, she squeezed his hand lightly, as if telling him she had heard every word he said, even the ones he hadn't spoken aloud.

They stayed like that, sitting on the rooftop, fingers intertwined, neither of them in a rush to leave. The past still lingered between them, but for once, it didn't feel like a burden. It felt like something they had survived together.

Hanwool exhaled softly, tilting his head slightly to press his lips to the top of Rin's head-a small, fleeting touch, but one that said more than words ever could.

And for now, that was enough.