HAERI

I tug my scarf higher.

We stand on the edge of Terrasse Dufferin, the wide wooden planks beneath our boots groans with history—wooden planks damp and dark, edges worn smooth by thousands of footsteps and seasons. The St. Lawrence River spilling open in front of us like a silver secret. Streetlamps glow gold against the dusky sky, their halos warping slightly in the cold. The first snow falls in pieces—soft, uncertain. Not a flurry, not yet. Just the beginning—a quiet dance of flakes too shy to land. They settle in the air like a breath not yet exhaled.

Yujin's beside me, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, gaze lifted to the river. The faintest curve plays at the corner of his lips as he watches the snowfall with the kind of wonder people always try to write into stories but rarely get right. His breath fogs faintly at the edges of his lips. I can see the tension in his shoulders loosening, just slightly, like the cold air is the only thing keeping him grounded. For a second, I almost let him stay there—in peace, in silence. Almost.

"Do your friends know you're this obvious when you like someone?" I ask, voice low, edged in dry amusement. "Or is it just with me?"

He blinks, turning to me, caught somewhere between surprise and embarrassment. It takes him longer than usual to find words—which is rare, for him.

"I don't know about them," he says eventually, the corner of his mouth twitching like he can't decide if he should smile. "But I only ever meant it with you."

My chest tightens a little. But I keep the smile off my face.

"You don't have to say anything," I tell him quickly, eyes still on the river. "I'm not trying to make you confess." I press my glove to the railing, feel the chill through the fabric like a warning. I keep my gaze on the river. "But I want to say something before this goes any further."

The snow begins to stick to the wooden railing. I trace a finger through the damp line. Somewhere far from us, Chloe squeals at something through the telescope. Their voices float faintly, light and distant.

"I've been thinking about what to do," I begin, not quite sure where to look. "Because I knew. About you. For a while now."

He exhales. I hear it more than see it. The Château behind us looms in regal quiet, windows gleaming like a stage curtain waiting to lift.

"And?" he says. Gently. Like he's letting me choose how to answer.

"And I wanted to make sure you didn't walk into something without knowing where it leads."

He turns toward me more fully now. His coat brushes mine. "You think I haven't thought about that?"

I ignore that. Keep going. "I'm not the kind of girl who fits into someone's life neatly. I don't do 'easy to love.' I don't cook or like dressing up like most girls. I spiral for no reason and romanticize pain. I like books more than people. I like poetry that hurts. I think about endings more than beginnings. I hate parties. I need time to disappear and... I'm selfish with that time."

He tilts his head slightly. "That's not selfish."

"It is when someone's waiting for you to come back," I say. "It is when you're supposed to share your world."

Yujin's brows furrow. His eyes flick to mine. "You think I want someone perfect?"

Streetlamps flicker on behind us, casting pools of golden light that fight the deepening blue of the evening. "I think you deserve someone... whole. Not someone who's faking her way through what normal."

The snow thickens a little. A flake lands on the edge of his scarf, and I want—irrationally—to brush it off.

"I like that you're not like other people," he says calmly. "I like the way you talk about books. The way you notice things others don't. Even the way you push people away."

"You shouldn't like that," I whisper.

"Why not?"

"Because people like me don't end stories well."

He shrugs a little. "You talk like I haven't already made up my mind."

"You haven't seen everything. I still think you should reconsider," I say. "Whatever you think you feel for me. I flirted with you on purpose. I set things up, planned them so we'd end up alone like this. You think this is just coincidence? It's textbook red flag behaviours."

Yujin shifts his weight. I don't look at him. If I do, I won't get through this.

"It's not random. I made you fall for me. I let you." I say, voice cracking for just a second. "I've been playing a game. I did it all on purpose. You were supposed to fall. And then I'd walk away. Like I always do. You'll hate me eventually. Or worse, you'll blame yourself for not being able to fix me."

He doesn't flinch. But his jaw works slightly. The air between us sharpens. For a heartbeat, I think I've done it. He'll back off. He'll say something safe. Something distant. Maybe even laugh.

Instead, he asks, gently, "Then why are you telling me all this?"

I blink. He's not angry. Not even surprised. Soft pinpricks melting into our coats, our hair.

"Because I changed my mind." I meet his eyes. "I don't want to ruin a good person. I don't want to destroy a good thing. I don't want the group to fall apart. And this." I gesture to where the girls are chasing each other in rounds. "We could stop at friends just like that."

The wind picks up slightly. Our coats rustle. Behind us, someone laughs.

Yujin steps closer. Not much. Just enough.

"Then you just did something no red flag ever does. You tried to save someone else." He says quietly, "What if I want to be ruined by you?"

--++*++--

YUJIN

The moment I say it, her breath catches. Just slightly. Like it wants to stay in her lungs.

"What if I want to be ruined by you?"

It sounds reckless. Dramatic. But I mean every word. I mean it more than she'll ever believe.

The silence that follows doesn't press between us. It feels suspended—like we're inside a snow globe someone forgot to shake again. The flakes keep falling softly, not urgent, just... present. Our coats dusted white. Her hair catching the light like soft bronze, threaded with silver.

And in the seconds after my question, I think back to the beginning of this. Back to when she said:

"I'm not the kind of girl who fits into someone's life neatly. I don't do 'easy to love.'"

That was the first crack. The first warning. Like a flare lit on purpose. Her voice was calm, but I could feel her pulling away already, like she'd decided I needed saving—from her. And maybe the most painful part was: she thought she was being kind.

I should've been angry. But all I wanted was to hold her.

But I couldn't. Not now. Not like that.

So I talked instead. I tried, at least. I told her she wasn't selfish, that her silences weren't flaws. That the things she thought made her unlovable were the very things that made her different. Made her her. Made me so gone for her. I thought if I kept talking, I could drown out whatever loop she had playing in her head.

But then she kept going. Told me she'd planned this. That she'd deliberately created traps. Textbook red flag behavior.

That hit harder.

I stood there for a second, trying to tell if she was acting again. If this was just another performance, another self-fulfilling prophecy she'd rather push than risk anything real. She's good at it—lying so well it sounds like truth. But here, now, something in her voice shook. And if she's telling me all this, then doesn't that mean she cares? She wants me to know?

And if she wants me to know, maybe she wants me to stay.

I remember what Seungjae-hyung said a few weeks ago, during a late-night phone call, when I'd told him about the way Haeri made me feel like I'd never been in love before.

"If this girl makes you feel like that, you owe it to yourself to try. Even if it gets messy. Even if she's not perfect."

So now, here, as she tries to push me out with warnings dressed as confessions, I know what this is.

She's not selfish.

She's just not sure.

So I step closer, and I say the only thing that makes sense.

"What if I want to be ruined by you?"

Her eyes widen slightly, the way someone's do when you say exactly the wrong thing and exactly the right thing in one breath. The snow thickens around us like punctuation.

"I've been ruined before, you know," I add, softer. "You wouldn't be my first heartbreak."

She looks away, but her shoulders twitch like she wants to laugh. Or scream.

I keep going before she can.

"You say you're too selfish to be with someone. I call bullshit. I've been on my own most of my life. I can handle caring for another person. Especially that someone who talks about books like they're living things."

She exhales through her nose. Her gloves are balled tighter than they were a minute ago.

"Parties? Great. I hate them too. I'd rather be on some bookstore floor with you at 2 a.m, if they're still open. And cooking? Who cares. I can cook. You read. I feed us both. Isn't that balance?"

God, I sound like a husband already. And she hasn't even agreed to a coffee yet.

She snorts. Tries to stifle it. Her scarf's caught a snowflake and she hasn't noticed. Or maybe she has and just lets it stay.

I look at her fully. "You said you care more about poetry than people. That's not a flaw. It's taste. You like dark endings? I like your brain when you talk about them. I like watching your dreamy eyes when you quote lines that hurt you."

She blinks slowly, like something's glitching in her.

"You really think this works?" she asks finally. "Just saying things?"

"No. I think doing things is what works." I shift closer. "Let me show you. Give me the time to prove it. Let me be the guy who gets it wrong and still shows up the next morning. Let me be the one who sees the worst and still comes back."

Her eyes meet mine. I see the doubt. The weight of her wanting to believe, and not knowing how.

"I just—" she starts, then stops. "If this goes wrong, it's gonna hurt. And that's all on you. You don't get to blame me later."

I smile. I can't help it. It's her way of giving me a chance. Only she would phrase it like that. Like I'm signing a contract to suffer.

"Deal," I say. "I'll take the fall. And the bruises."

Her lips twitch, but she doesn't give in. Not yet. She's still weighing it all in that fast, beautiful mind of hers. But she's not walking away.

And that's the start I need.

She turns back toward the river. The others are laughing by the telescope again. Someone's yelling something that echoes over the boards.

I don't look. I only look at her.

"I'm gonna chase you now," I say. "Officially."

She raises a brow. "That so?"

"Yeah. So maybe don't run too fast."

And still not looking at me, for the first time in what feels like hours, she lets herself smile.

Just barely.

--++*++--

HAERI

That stops everything—
Time. Wind. Even Chloe's laughter in the distance.

He's still smiling. Like a man who just won the right war.

The snow starts falling heavier now.

And for the first time in a long time, I don't feel like I'm carrying something sharp inside my chest.

I feel like I've handed it over.