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FOLLO HADN'T PLANNED to go back.
Well, he does occasionally make plans, but he just never had the courage to actually go follow through it. His hometown in the North Ward, Aputt, was too far from the East Ward; and he wasn't exactly keen on spending a dime on numerous transportation just to return to his bleak childhood town with too much negativity tied to it.
Plus, December didn't make it easier. Winter meant snow, and snow meant extreme danger. The flakes that fell into their ward weren't harmless; they were toxic and capable of masking the tracks of trash beasts. Travelling outside the city without proper gear or guide was strictly prohibited as the weather was nearly suicidal.
The past came flooding back. The times when he would create snow angels with Alan and his other friends, wearing a thick layer of parka due to the snow's toxicity. Alan proudly showing off the hammer he had picked up from the polluted zone. The first time he had laid eyes on the Cleaners, watching Zanka obliterate the trash beast with such ease. And finally, when he had acquired his friend's hammer after he'd given up on becoming a Giver, believing that people like them—faceless mobs—could never achieve anything.
Follo had, rather impulsively, begged them to take him in as a potential Giver, promising to work for free until he could unlock his jinki. Enjin laughed at his face, practically doubling over the booze on the table as he wheezed out incoherent words. Gris, bless his heart, took over the conversation, explaining his role as a Supporter—a ticket in for Follo to contribute whilst chasing the possibility of unlocking his Giver abilities.
He agreed on the spot, thanking Gris until tears blurred his line of sight. He didn't care how pathetic it may seemed to others, seeing a man like him kneeling whilst chanting praises. He finally have somewhere to start his journey! To prove to everyone that even a faceless mob like him could stand tall beside the elite.
He promised himself that he would only return once he'd become a Giver; to show Alan that they, too, have what it takes to achieve their dreams.
But when Follo overheard you say you had never seen snow your entire life, something lodged inside his chest like a fault line. You'd said it so lightly, without the hint of resentment or detachment he'd been so used on hearing with the word that it rattled him to his very core. Your eyes filled with hope and curiosity, brimming with warmth that would melt even the coldest winters of his life.
It struck him as odd at first. Why would anyone subject themselves to the harsh winds of the December snow? He'd heard people perishing from frostbites and pneumonia just because they had left their windows slightly ajar. Seen the news of people freezing to death after reckless adventures after night. Watched his father struggle to keep the fireplace going due to the limited supply of firewood in their area.
He wanted to just tell tales of his past, explain to you the hidden wonders of Aputt and the ways he had played in the snow as a kid and young teen. Show you photos he had brought with him in his move here at the Cleaners' Headquarters, pointing at every single detail until nothing was left unsaid. He wanted to do anything but visit his hometown.
Yet, just the thought of you never having seen or felt it seemed wrong. Like his brain couldn't comprehend that the two of you didn't grow up together under the harsh winds of December, snuggling deep into your parka and drawing childish sticks on the snow.
One look into your eyes was all it took for Follo to finally book that damn trip back home.
And so, after weeks of careful travelling, the two of you had finally arrived at the entrance of Aputt. The steel barriers were scarred and worn, etched with the weight of harsh winter winds—just as he remembered them. Snow lay thick across the ground, an endless sea of white stretching as far as the eyes could see.
The first time you saw it, when the two of you stepped out the train, Follo had to hold you back before you could jump in so carelessly. "Snow up here is toxic," he warned softly, echoing the words his father had drilled into him. "You shouldn't touch it without gloves and a thick jacket."
You glanced up at him, eyes wide and sparkling with a mixture of awe and curiosity. Follo couldn't help the small upward twitch of his lips; the sight of your wonder was warmer than any fire he had huddled up during his childhood.
The guards at the gate examined your IDs, flipping through the documents you two had brought to authorise your stay. A few moments later, you were allowed inside. Follo's chest tightened when he realised they recognised him immediately. He... hadn't expected anyone to remember the boy who had left nearly two years ago. Though, perhaps the only memory they had of him was when he had left with the Cleaners without so much as a look back.
As you stepped further in, your gaze roamed over the town. You gasped softly, and Follo felt a rush of quiet satisfaction in his chest. Unlike the patched aesthetic of the East Ward, Aputt was proud of it's long history of architecture and design. Buildings of brick and cement stood close together, sealed tightly against the relentless winter wind. The pathways were pristine, the snow cleared to the sides so as not to disturb the citizens, who walked briskly in thick parkas and fur-lined boots.
You laughed, the air turning a frosty white from your breath. "It's so beautiful here, Follo!" you exclaimed, clutching his hand tightly.
Follo dug your interlocked hands deep into his pocket, noticing the slight tremble of your figure. "Not as beautiful as you," he chuckled, earning a soft punch from you. "Let's go to our hotel before you freeze to death, yeah?"
You pouted, matching his pace. "It's not fair how you're not shivering."
"Baby, I grew up here. It would be weird if I wasn't used to the cold."
"But you were away for two years!"
He just shrugged, a teasing smile on his lips. "I guess my body's just... better than yours."
"Rude!"
He laughed, the sound misting into the frosty air. You followed suit, breath mingling with his.
After dropping your things at the small, warmly lit hotel, Follo led you through the winding streets of Aputt, the snow crunching softly beneath your boots. He moved swiftly, as if he had never left the town. He'd point at stores, stopping at food booths to buy some local snacks and treats, letting you try them and laughing at the faces you made. He stood close to you throughout the walk, hand-in-hand, trying to offer you his warmth.
It was obvious that you were a foreigner. And so, kids quickly gathered around, chattering excitedly with their eyes wide with curiosity. They peppered you with questions after questions, asking where you came from and what jobs you had. Follo remained quiet, content on watching you interact with the small crowd, his heart buzzing with unidentified information at the sight of you cooing over a little girl.
"Follo and I are part of the Cleaners," you answered them, reaching into your jacket to pull out a spare badge. "We help protect the ground by defeating the evil trash beasts!"
The children made a sound of awe, staring intently at the badge like it was a limited edition playing card they couldn't have.
"So, you're a Giver!" one boy exclaimed, practically bouncing on his toes as he leaned forward. "Can we please see your jinki?!"
The other kids quickly chimed in, giving you their best pleading puppy eyes. "Pretty please!"
You froze for a moment, brows furrowing slightly, whilst Follo bit his lip. His mood dampened, already seeing the inevitable disappointment on the children's face when you had to admit you weren't a Giver—or that you had no plans on becoming one either. His heart clenched at the thought of their reactions, bitterness seeping into every veins in his body that urged him to pull you into his chest, to hide you against their judgement.
His concern proved justified when all the excitement dwindled down when you told the children the truth: you were no Giver, but a Supporter. Their wide-eyed amazement faltered into confusionm, looking at you as if not understanding how a normal person became a Cleaner, responsible for exterminating trash beasts on a daily basis.
"Really...?" a girl mumbled, arching a brow. "Then you're not even a Cleaner! You're just a liar."
You shook your head, the soft smile on your lips never falling. "I'm not lying, little girl. I'm really a Cleaner—just a Supporter, that's all."
One boy piped up. "But you can't even destroy those beasts!"
You nodded, agreeing with him. "That might be true, but there's more into being a Cleaner than destroying trash beasts. We also have to protect—children like you stumbling into danger. From walking into their secret bases, or worse..."
The children's eyes widened again, their awe flickering back in them, and Follo couldn't help but feel admiration and a twinge of envy stirred in his chest as he watched you handle it all so naturally.
It was always the same wherever you two go.
People are scared out of their minds, stringing along incoherent words about the trash beasts until the Supporters stepped in to calm them down. You would evacuate them into a safer location, tasked to be on the look-out for stray trash beasts. While he was with the Givers, aiding in the fight by momentarily subduing the trash beasts and hurling them into the Giver's direction for the final blow. And, when all were said and done, people would rush to the Giver's side, offering their gratitude whilst ignoring the Supporter's existence.
He hated it. Hated how inferior it made him feel about. On how it just solidified Alan's mindset of being part of the faceless mob—in both your case, part of the Supporters invisible to the people's eyes. How no matter how much he tried to prove himself, he would always be destined to remain as a faceless mob.
You snapped Follo out of his trance, worry etched into the way you pursed your lips, forehead creasing as you stared at him with gentle concern.
You okay? The question went unspoken, but he could practically hear you say it into his ears, voice vibrating through his spine.
He nodded, offering a small, apologetic smile. Sorry, he mouthed, clasping your hand.
You bid the children farewell, following Follo as he led you through the quieter side of the town, towards the playground he had once called his second home. The snow piled up a bit higher than the main street, having the two of you calf-deep, much to your amusement.
The old clock still worked, Follo mindlessly thought, a memory overlapping with his vision. You all but ran around, laughing brightly as you scooped handfuls of snow onto your hands and tossing them high up the sky. They fell gently over you, like a cascade of tiny lights, each flake melting into the warmth of your excitement.
Follo chuckled, echoing his warning again, as he slid into the brick dome he had once shared with a friend. The echoes of past laughter seemed to mingled with your own, bridging the gap in his heart. He leaned back, feeling the frost of the snow seeping into his palms and thighs, sending a slight shiver up his spine.
You darted in front of him, crouching, hugging your knees to your chest as a faint flush flooded your cheeks, nose, and ears. "Did you use to play here, Follo?" you asked, tilting your head in the way that made his chest tighten with painful affection.
He nodded, sighing as he replayed the memories in his head. "Yeah.. I spent so much of my childhood here that it became a second home," he muttered, voice low yet echoing inside the finite space. "Alan... and another friend of ours... we'd race through the snow, pretending like we're outside the city exploring dungeons."
He gazed past you, his eyes falling on the rusted metal jungle gym. "That's where Alan showed us the hammer, announcing that he'll become a Cleaner just like the people who saved him..." he reminisced, slowly folding his knees to his chest. The familiar crushing weight eased the growing tension inside him, gnawing at him like a starved animal hunting its prey.
"I thought he was so cool. I believed the sky's the limit for Alan... That he'll achieve that goal within time. I couldn't stomach the gap between us, so I ran away. Far away from him. I dived straight into my studies, trying to distract myself..." he trailed off, nails digging into the plush of his pants as he ducked his head into his arms. "Then, just when I was inspired to follow his footsteps—when I finally had the confidence to face him again—he had already given up on our dream. Said that a nobody like him—someone like me—had no chance in becoming a Cleaner."
The wind rustled between the two of you, carrying a few drifting snow. You reached out, hand gently caressing Follo's head until you cupped his cheek, tugging his head to face you. Your eyes glimmered with a mix of sorrow and understandment.
"Well, you're proving him wrong, aren't you?" you said softly, voice steady and filling him with warmth. "You're a Cleaner now; you haven't given up in turning your hammer into a jinki. You're fighting for your dreams, actively defying people's expectations of you and us Supporters."
Follo leaned into your touch like a starved man, melting as the reassurance you were giving him spread through his body. "I... I don't think that's enough," he muttered, lowering his eyes to stare at his footprints. "It's been two years and there's still no progress...! What if I'm walking a dead man's road?! What if... I never reach our dream?"
You shook your head, placing your other hand on his cheek with a frown. "Follo... stop thinking like that," you whispered. "It's not about the years or the speed—it's about your resolve. Every step you take matters, even those you haven't taken yet. And you're not walking alone, okay? I'm right beside you, every step of the way."
You shuffled closer to him, pressing your nose against his. "And besides... you already achieved one half of your dream. The other half? Already inside you, baby."
He swallowed hard, chest prickling with microscopic needle abusing his lungs and airway. He could feel the tears forming in the corner of his eyes, threatening to stain your gloved hands. His shoulders racked as he gulped down a sob forming in his throat. His gaze lifted to yours, flickering hesitancy and hope that felt so foreign yet familiar. "You... really mean that?"
"Every word," you affirmed, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "I believe in you. I know you can do this."
Like melted snow, tears slid down his cheeks, clouding his vision as he hiccupped softly, trying to stifle a sob. It was pathetic, really—how easily you could turn him into a crying mess with just that simple "I believe in you." You tell him that everyday, and time and time again, he found it hard to actually believe. He felt like an imposter, greedily soaking in your praises whilst he had nothing to actually show for it.
You didn't flinch. Instead, you leaned in to press a chaste kiss on his tears. "It's okay, baby," you whispered, warm breath fanning on his nose. "Let the tears fall. Don't need to hold it in."
He nodded, the lump of his throat threatening to choke him. Your hands stayed firm on his cheeks, anchoring him along with your steady gaze filled with warmth, admiration, and respect—all of which he still couldn't believe he deserved. But, he let himself breathe, basking under your presence as his heart slowed down to a steady beat, following each echo of your own.
Then, a tiny shadow fell from the sky.
Both of you looked up, eyes widening as snow began to fall softly from the gray, heavy sky. Each flake cascading down from above like the rumoured stars up in the Sphere's sky.
A quiet, almost inaudible gasp left your lips. You slowly stood up, catching a snowflake on your gloved hands. Your eyes were wide, filled with genuine awe as you hurriedly turned it to Follo. "Look—! Snow really does fall from the sky! Oh my gosh, I can't believe this...!" you cried out, smiling so widely that it was straining your cheeks.
Follo wasn't staring at the snowflake on your palms—he had seen dozens of those in his lifetimes. His gaze settled on yours, watching as you were showered with snow, each flake clinging to your hair, lashes, nose, and skin. You twirled, laughter echoing in his ears like chimes, sending arrows straight to his chest.
"So beautiful," he muttered, heart thumping against his chest in a frenzy. He was reminded of the first time he laid eyes on you—a similar scene but with papers falling from the top shelf instead. He had immediately appeared at your side, assessing if you had any injuries, only to be smitten by the dazzling smile you sent his way.
A snowball startled him out of his trance. You stood there, chuckling as you tried to hide your palm covered with traces of snow. Innocent as you may be, the mischief in your eyes was unmistakable, and Follo couldn't help but let a small grin tug his lips.
Without a word, he scooped a handful of snow and lightly tossed it in your direction, mindful not to aim it at your face. "Never start a snow fight against a Aputt kid, babe," he teased, laughing as he sidestep one of your throws.
Snow flew back and forth between the two of you, laughter echoing through the quiet playground as snow continued to trinkle down from above. Follo felt light, as if he's about to ascend into the heavens, as he ran to tackle you to the snow-covered ground. For a moment, it was if he had returned to his childhood, free from worries of the future and focusing on what was present in front of him.
And with you being in his line of vision—cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with delight—he felt as though everything was where it was supposed to be. As if every piece of his puzzle had miraculously fallen into place.
Maybe... it wasn't such a bad idea to return here in Aputt after all.