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Looking down at the city from a height, it's still teeming with life even late in the evening, on the verge of night. People are rushing somewhere, heading somewhere, late or making it to their end-of-day errands, or already heading home. There's movement everywhere, a little bit, from all sides, though it was quiet overall. The time for strolls and fun, for post-routine meetups, had passed, and the area was emptying out bit by bit. Crowds dissolved, people dispersed, and there was less and less for the eye to catch. The city is falling asleep.
Snow falls in fat flakes. Not the first this year, though it still melted as soon as it hit the asphalt. Cars on the five-lane road swept it up along with the strong wind, rushing past like a colorful blizzard with their headlights on. The last remnants of yellowed, drying leaves were torn from the roofs of houses and parked cars, from the branches of almost bare trees. Gusts mixed them with the snow, buried them under the snow. The snowflakes don't feel fluffy but sharp. They melted quickly on the cheeks, but skin still stung.
Wandering here, the lights in the windows weren't just on anymore — they were turning off instead. The reflection looked back sadly. With a sour face. That's what Baku would have joked if she were here.
There was no destination for this walk, no real purpose, though her legs had still led her halfway from her own district closer to the other's. If she stared at the passersby, she might have seen a familiar face. But she had no strength to stare.
Seongje watched the cars. Their flow in the thickening night. How their headlights blinded her tired eyes, how their loud horns sent throbbing pain into her temple. Her cheeks were actually burning from the snow hitting them. And there was no one around. Passersby had walked past the sleeping houses, cars from behind added to the chill with their movement. It cut to the bone. And her teeth began to chatter.
If she went crazy, if she lost it enough, lying down right here on the bridge and freezing to death would be quite romantic. The evening was good in its own relative way, she had nothing to do and nowhere to go. Dying under the noise of cars, under the cover of night and a blanket of snow sounded pretty decent. And why do such thoughts only come with a fever?
Seongje doesn't check the time, pulling out her phone, doesn't check for missed calls or anything, though no one really cared about her anyway. Without looking, by reflex or habit, Seongje swipes quickly through her contacts and taps the fourth one from the bottom out of maybe twenty at most.
The long ringtone is drowned out by the horn of a semi-truck cut off by a black Mercedes. If Seongje had a car, she'd be cutting everyone off and speeding too. In half a year it wouldn't take much — put in a little effort, maybe suck up to Baekjin a bit, play the good girl for her parents — and she really would start pissing people off on the roads. She'd have to make that a goal.
"Je-ya, hello!"
Seongje frowns, pulling the phone away from her ear. It's loud.
"Hey, you there?"
She hadn't even thought about what to say.
"Humin-ah."
"Oh! What are you doing? Are you outside?"
"No, the washing machine is loud."
"Huh. Why are you sitting by the washing machine?"
The corners of Seongje's mouth twitch into a smile.
"I'm on the bridge on the way to Eunjang."
"Oh. Well, school's over for the day, you can drop by tomorrow."
"I'll pass."
Baku makes a barely noticeable pause and asks the obvious, main thing.
"Why are you out so late?"
"Got kicked out."
"You had a fight?"
"Kind of."
"Mm," she goes quiet. Seongje sniffles. "A real fight and they won't let you back in? Out in the snow at night?"
"Don't even wanna check. Let them think I died because of them, they're pissing me off."
"Hey, none of that."
"You ran away from home once, no word from you for days."
"Did Gogo tell you?"
"No, I was here with Baekjin. Though I was also…"
Seongje coughs, lowering her head almost to the railing, almost hunching over it. Her throat felt raw like after her first try at smoking, when an upperclassman had given her something really strong. Though she replays that memory more with amusement than the feeling she's about to cough up a lung. Her head splits even more after coughing.
"You're not better?"
"Didn't even get a little better."
"Jeje, you… Fuck… Stay where you are, okay?"
"You'll run to me?"
"Don't move a muscle."
Amid the street noise, Seongje listens to the rustling from the speaker. It's hard to hear, but Baku suddenly adds loudly for some reason before hanging up.
"And don't you dare jump off the bridge!"
"As if I was planning to," she mutters, more to herself than in response, dropping the phone back into her pocket.
Her head is a little dizzy, her consciousness slipping, and her vision is swimming and blurry. She'd sit down if there were benches on the bridge, and she'd sit down if she didn't look weird on the roadside, curled up from the cold. She pulls her hood over her head for the umpteenth time that evening. The wind kept blowing it back, and it was too cold and she was too lazy to take her hands out of her pockets.
Her glasses were useless against the precipitation, only freezing the bridge of her nose and slipping. The blinding car headlights now shone dimly, turning into stars through lashes plastered with snowflakes. Beautiful. And this view was just for her.
Seongje licks the snow off her lips, though she wanted something hot more. Or strong. And to not feel so abandoned and helpless.
"Jeje!"
She turns her head wearily. Baku is running toward her, clearly having run the whole way. Dressed warmly. Out of breath. Anxious.
"You really are here. While I was running, I thought maybe you were baiting me, and I'd just fall for your joke again."
"Yeah. I'm standing here waiting for you like an idiot, and she wondered if she should come."
"How sweet. I didn't wonder," she grumbles, raising her hands to the other's cheeks and taking Seongje's face. "Hey, you have a fever!"
"Really? You're not lying?"
"Je-ya," Seongje thinks Humin's hands feel boiling hot on her wind-chapped cheeks too. Warm. "Come on, let's go to mine, you can't just wander around here."
"I thought maybe we could wander together."
"Maybe I'm down for any kind of fun, but not now. Come on, let's go."
Humin wraps an arm around Seongje's back, pulling her shoulder to shoulder, and guides her down the streets. Off the bridge, past the cars, past the dark houses along quiet streets where the only light now came from streetlights every twenty meters. Now uphill. If the snow kept up all night, going back down would be slippery. Seongje knew this road inside out, could find her way blind and with her head spinning, but she was still relying on Baku now. Figuratively and physically. She held her tight. And even through the layers of clothes, her usual, healthy body heat radiated from her.
Humin ushers her into her house, slams the door, brushes the snow off both of them, takes her jacket to hang in the closet. Tells her to go to her room, while she heads for the cabinets looking for the first aid kit.
"Dad, do we have fever reducers?! And throat stuff?! And for a runny nose?!"
"I don't know, check the cabinet!"
"Ugh."
She rummages noisily through drawers, overturns boxes and spray bottles, reading labels and what was for what, but somehow they were completely out of cold medicine. She throws her jacket back on and rushes outside.
"Humin-ah! Kid, when did you even manage to get si–"
In his daughter's room, the man finds not her.
"Oh. What are you doing here?"
"I'm sick. Baku dragged me here."
"You don't have your own house?"
"No."
"Right. Well, sit tight."
Seongje hums in response, and the man leaves. The hair on her bangs and ends is damp, her glasses fogged up, so she put them on the nightstand. She's alone with Humin's father in their house with a fever, a runny nose, and a voice starting to go hoarse. She collapses on the other’s bed with a sigh and closes her eyes.
Maybe standing in the wind on the bridge was rather stupid than romantic, but in her half-conscious state, she wasn't really thinking about much. Just about Baku. Who ran out to her without being asked, brought her home, and now apparently rushed off to buy medicine. Also an idiot. They were both worth each other.
Seongje, with no strength, turns on her side on the firm-ish mattress, looking out the window at the steadily falling snow as noise is heard again in the hallway. Maybe it really was better for her to be with someone. Than wandering alone in the freezing cold, kicked out of her own home. Though, partially, she ran away on her own too, but that's just details.
A crazy night, Seongje thinks, though it doesn't exactly feel like the first time.
Maybe, of the two of them, the bigger idiot is actually her.