Ji-Soo had barely stepped out of the building when she heard footsteps behind her.
Not rushing at first.
Just steady.
Confident.
She didn't turn immediately.
Because she already knew who it was. "Hey."
Ji-Bok's voice came from behind her, slightly amused.
Ji-Soo finally slowed down and glanced over her shoulder.
He was walking beside her now, hands in his pockets like everything that just happened inside a classroom was normal school entertainment.
"…What," she said flatly.
Ji-Bok tilted his head slightly.
"That was impressive," he said.
Ji-Soo looked forward again.
"Don't start."
"I'm serious," he continued casually. "I didn't know you had that kind of energy."
Ji-Soo exhaled.
"I didn't either," she muttered.
That earned a small laugh from him.
They walked together for a few seconds in silence, leaving the school building behind.
The noise inside faded.
The tension slowly loosened.
But Ji-Bok wasn't done.
"…By the way," he said after a moment.
Ji-Soo glanced at him.
"What."
His expression shifted slightly.
More serious now.
"Ji-Ho."
That name made Ji-Soo slow down just a bit. "…What about him?"
Ji-Bok looked ahead. "He's not doing well."
Ji-Soo frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
Ji-Bok exhaled through his nose.
"He's in the hospital," he said. "Still weak. Still… like that."
A pause.
Ji-Soo's expression tightened slightly. "…I thought he was getting better."
"Yeah," Ji-Bok said quietly. "So did everyone."
They walked a little further.
The wind outside felt different now.
Less chaotic than inside the school.
But heavier in a quieter way.
Ji-Soo finally spoke again.
"…Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
Ji-Bok shrugged slightly.
"I didn't know how."
That made her look at him properly.
Ji-Bok continued, voice lower now.
"He was talking like…" he hesitated, then chose his words carefully, "like he was already accepting things."
Ji-Soo's fingers curled slightly at her side.
Ji-Bok glanced at her.
"But today," he added, "he actually smiled. Like… really smiled. For the first time in a while."
A pause.
Ji-Soo stayed silent.
But something in her expression softened slightly.
Ji-Bok watched her reaction carefully.
Then added "Apparently he painted something too. Said it was the most beautiful place in Seoul or something dramatic like that."
That got a faint reaction from her.
Not a smile.
But a shift in her eyes.
Recognition.
Ji-Bok nudged her lightly with his elbow. "He said you would have liked it, You as Ji-Woo."
Ji-Soo exhaled slowly.
"…Of course he said something like that."
A small silence passed between them again.
Then Ji-Bok spoke more quietly. "He's not pretending anymore, you know."
Ji-Soo frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
"He's just…" Ji-Bok searched for the word, "being honest now. About everything."
That line lingered.
Ji-Soo looked away slightly.
For once, her expression wasn't sharp.
Just thoughtful.
"…That sounds like him," she murmured.
Ji-Bok glanced at her. "You care more than you act like you do."
Ji-Soo immediately scoffed.
"Don't analyse me."
"I'm not analysing you," he said. "I'm stating facts."
She rolled her eyes slightly.
But there was no real irritation behind it.
Just familiarity.
They walked further away from the school gates now.
The noise of students behind them faded completely.
Ji-Bok stretched slightly.
"So," he said casually again, "you planning to keep fighting people every time they annoy you now?"
Ji-Soo glanced at him. "I don't start fights."
He raised a brow. "…You literally pinned someone to a wall."
"She started it."
"That's not how school rules work."
Ji-Soo smirked faintly. "I don't follow school rules."
Ji-Bok sighed. "Yeah, I noticed."
A pause.
Then he glanced at her again.
"But seriously," he said, tone softer now, "you were kind of cool back there."
Ji-Soo blinked.
Then looked away quickly. "…Shut up."
Ji-Bok laughed. "Yeah, there it is."
They kept walking.
The tension from earlier slowly replaced with something lighter.
But still threaded with seriousness underneath.
After a while, Ji-Bok slowed slightly.
"So what now?" he asked.
Ji-Soo didn't answer immediately.
She looked ahead.
Then said quietly—
"Now I make sure Mi-Sook doesn't get another chance to do that again."
Ji-Bok nodded slowly.
"Fair."
Then, after a beat—
"Just don't get arrested, yeah?"
Ji-Soo shot him a look.
"I'll try."
"Try harder."
She huffed softly.
But didn't argue.
And for a moment—
they just walked.
Two people stepping away from chaos behind them, not knowing it wasn't over yet… just shifting into something sharper.
--
Night had fully settled over the hospital.
The kind of night that didn't feel peaceful—just quiet enough to make every sound inside the room feel louder than it should.
Ji-Ho lay on the hospital bed, body turned slightly to the side, one arm resting weakly over the blanket.
The monitor beeped steadily beside him.
Soft.
Relentless.
Mr. Yoo-Joon sat near the window with a guitar.
He hadn't planned it.
It was something he just… brought.
Like if words failed again, sound might not.
Mrs. Posh stood near the bed, watching quietly.
Ji-Ho's eyes were open.
Not wide.
Not alert.
Just open.
Like he was listening to everything at once, even the parts no one said out loud.
Mr. Yoo-Joon began to play.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The first chords were soft—hesitant—but steady enough to fill the room.
And then he sang.
Not loudly.
Not perfectly.
But honestly.
A voice carrying more weight than skill.
Ji-Ho stared at the ceiling as the sound filled the space around him.
Then, after a while, he spoke.
Quietly.
"…I've been alone my whole life," he said.
Mr. Yoo-Joon's fingers paused for half a beat.
But he didn't stop playing.
Ji-Ho continued.
"I thought I got used to it."
A small pause.
Then his voice turned a little lower.
"I even thought about ending it… maybe six times."
Mrs. Posh's breath hitched instantly.
Mr. Yoo-Joon's hand froze completely on the strings.
Ji-Ho slowly lifted his arm.
Not dramatically.
Just enough to show faint marks along his skin—old wounds, healed and fading, but still visible enough to understand what they meant.
Mr. Yoo-Joon's expression changed immediately.
"…Ji-Ho," he said softly, confused, almost disbelieving.
Ji-Ho looked at him.
And gave a small, tired smile.
Not happy.
Just… resigned.
"It's fine," he said quietly. "Nothing really stayed anyway."
The room went completely still.
Even the guitar sound stopped now.
Silence swallowed everything.
Then—
Ji-Ho coughed.
Harder this time.
His body tensed slightly as he turned away, trying to cover his mouth.
But when he pulled his hand back—
there was blood.
Not much.
But enough.
Red against pale skin.
Mr. Yoo-Joon stood up immediately.
"Ji-Ho—"
But Ji-Ho only smiled faintly again.
"…See?" he murmured. "It's just going to get worse if I don't… wake up from this properly."
Mrs. Posh shook her head quickly.
"No," she said firmly, stepping closer. "Don't talk like that."
Ji-Ho's eyes softened slightly at her voice.
But he didn't argue.
His energy was fading again.
Slowly.
Like a candle being pulled away from wind.
"I'm tired," he whispered instead.
And then—
he lay back properly on the bed.
Turning slightly to the side.
Eyes half-lidded now.
Not fully asleep.
But drifting.
Mr. Yoo-Joon sat at the edge of the bed immediately, setting the guitar aside.
His hand reached for Ji-Ho's.
Held it tightly.
"…I should've told you sooner," he said quietly.
His voice was low now.
Rough around the edges.
"If I had… if I had gotten you treated earlier—"
He stopped.
Jaw tightening.
"…I'm sorry."
Ji-Ho didn't respond.
Just breathing slowly.
Still there.
Still listening.
Mrs. Posh stepped closer and gently placed a hand on Mr. Yoo-Joon's shoulder.
Then slowly—
she moved to the other side of the bed.
And carefully took Ji-Ho's other hand.
Softly.
Like she was grounding him.
Ji-Ho's fingers weakly curled around hers.
Almost instinctively.
Mr. Yoo-Joon exhaled shakily.
Holding Ji-Ho's hand tighter.
Everything in the room felt like it had collapsed into one moment.
No noise.
No movement.
Just three people holding onto one fragile life trying not to slip away in silence.
Mrs. Posh leaned forward slightly and gently patted Ji-Ho's head.
Slow.
Comforting.
Like telling him without words that he wasn't alone in this room.
Not tonight.
Not while they were here.