Park Hu-min

Baku was sitting on the top step of the rooftop, his gaze lost in the city lights.

He had a recent scrape on his eyebrow. It wasn't serious. It never was.

He heard the door open.

—I knew you'd be here.

He did not respond.

She walked slowly until she was standing in front of him. She didn't ask who had started the fight or who had won.

He just crouched down to her level.

—Look at me.

He let out a humorless laugh.

-So that?

Instead of answering, she took out a clean handkerchief and carefully wiped the dried blood from her face.

Baku frowned.

—It's not necessary.

-I know.

—Then stop doing it.

She finished cleaning the cut and, almost without thinking, arranged the bangs that fell over the wound.

-Poor…

He looked up abruptly.

—Don't call me that.

-As well as?

-As if…

He couldn't find the words.

She smiled with a quiet tenderness, almost too… maternal

—As if you were someone I wanted to take care of.

Silence settled between them once more.

Baku looked away, clearly uncomfortable.

—I don't need anyone to take care of me.

—I didn't say you needed it.

She sat down beside him. After a few seconds, she placed a hand on his head and gently ruffled his hair.

—It's over now… relax.

He should have stepped aside.

I should have taken my hand off him.

Instead, he just clenched his jaw.

—Stop doing that…

Her voice came out much lower than she intended.

She withdrew her hand instantly.

-Sorry.

Baku remained motionless for a few seconds.

Then, almost ashamed, he barely inclined his head towards her.

Enough to brush against her shoulder again.

She understood the gesture without saying a word.

This time he didn't stroke her hair.

She just let him put his weight on her.

"That's it..." he murmured in a barely audible voice . "Rest for a while, okay? I'm here now..."