The rain had returned.
Soft, steady, and constant — like fingers drumming gently against the windows of the library.
Inside, the world was muted. Safe. Still.
Ji-Woo sat curled in the farthest corner, a book open but unread in his lap.
He wasn't reading.
He was hiding.
From the memories.
From the ache.
From Min-Ho.
But he still felt him.
Even before he heard the familiar footsteps, even before the soft rustle of a coat settling beside him — Ji-Woo knew he was there.
Min-Ho didn't speak.
He sat down next to him. Close, but not touching.
They hadn't touched. Not yet.
But every second that passed made it harder not to.
Ji-Woo turned a page. Blankly.
"You're not reading," Min-Ho said quietly.
"I know."
"…Then why are you here?"
Ji-Woo shut the book. Not harshly. Just… tiredly.
He looked at the title: "Winter Landscapes and the Silence of Snow."
His lips curved slightly. "Because silence listens."
Min-Ho tilted his head. "And what is it saying?"
Ji-Woo's voice cracked when he answered:
"That I miss you."
Min-Ho didn't answer right away.
Instead, he reached out — slowly, cautiously — and placed his hand palm-up on the bench between them. Not touching Ji-Woo, just offering.
An invitation.
Not a demand.
Ji-Woo looked down at the hand. Then up at Min-Ho.
His breath trembled.
"You don't get to miss me back," he said.
"Why?"
"Because you left first."
Min-Ho didn't pull his hand away.
He just looked at Ji-Woo with those eyes — the ones that always asked questions he never dared say aloud.
"I never stopped waiting for you," Min-Ho whispered.
And Ji-Woo…
He didn't take the hand.
But he didn't leave either.