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When she looked back at him, for the first time in almost three years, it felt as though he had been ripped in half. She looked so… normal. Like nothing that transcended ever kept her up at night. But even though it absolutely pained him to just look at her so casually, he couldn’t look away. She appeared before him like the scene of a car wreck, upsetting and thought-provoking. Jiho swallowed thickly, every last word that fell past her pretty lips, plucked at his nerves. He was going to snap if he didn’t control himself. This was too much for him to handle so suddenly. To make matters worse he was already in a less than ecstatic mood due to almost being completely soaked. God, he couldn’t even breathe. His chest was tight as every memory they shared flashed through his mind and for the first time the truth hit him - it was all a lie. 

Jiho ground his teeth together and opted to ignore her, turning his head to look out the window. There wasn’t much to see, the rain drops did their job of blurring the outside world. He wanted to find the meaning in this. Everything else was mulled together, making his head spin as if he had been staring into a kaleidoscope for way too long. But Hana… Hana was so clear to him. Like she was the only thing he had ever seen with his bastard eyes. Another strong gulp… although this one was with the intention of coating his dry throat. Jiho wondered if she could hear how fast his heart beating. He wondered if she knew that it took everything in him not to break down. He wondered if she knew just how badly he wanted to hit her, make her feel even an ounce of pain that she made him feel. But most importantly, he wondered if she know just how badly he wanted to hold her again.

So much of his time was spent numbing himself to the world, to the prospect of another relationship - perhaps one that was three times as beautiful or even one that was actually healthy. But he loved her. He loved her, her, her. She spoke again and it caught him off-guard his hands immediately seizing up and dropping the aforementioned folder onto his lap. If only she knew just how many ‘firsts’ she took from him. If only she knew that she took more than just his money when she left. He took a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut as he attempted to count back from ten. Don’t cry. Please, do’t cry. He begged himself over and over like it was going to make a difference. He sniffled, a hand quick to dab at the corners of his eyes. One, two - like it never moved in the first place. And then he felt it, the burning sensation that took over his hand. More specifically the spot where her initials were branded onto him forevermore. 

He lifted a hand to cover the other, shuffling even closer to the taxi door. Her question… it made him chuckle - deep in his chest. It was tinged with bitterness, a cry of pain. Jiho shook his head, “How’ve I been?” He repeated, finding her absolutely ridiculous. What did he lose in being honest? All his pride left him the moment he spent three months in bed because of her. “Not so good.” He answered, pinching the bridge of his nose. Don’t cry, Chico. Don’t fucking cry. “You look well too. You haven’t changed, have you?” He meant it in more than just a physical sense. Jiho nodded, heart racing a mile a minute when a tear spilled from his eye. He cursed himself, shuffling awkwardly as he nodded a few more times. “Y-yeah, late night at the studio. Gotta be up early for a show.” Suddenly he wondered if she had listened to anything he put out after she left. Every last song was filled with his love and his hatred for her. 

"Oh, no?” Hana’s brows raised in response to his confession, her head nodding in acknowledgment. She contemplated asking why he hadn’t been good, but ultimately decided against it - that wasn’t any of her business, and she wasn’t entirely interested in knowing. Instead, she replied with what she felt was appropriate: a common expression that went along the lines of I’m sorry to hear that. Following the flippant remark, Hana shifted in her seat, turning to check the taxi’s progress. But just as before, the rain made it difficult to see anything outside, other than blurred scenery they happened to pass by and both of their reflections faintly outlined against the glass. She hadn’t a clue where they were.

You haven’t changed, have you? The question caused her to look over at him again, and she gave an insouciant shrug, oblivious to the meaning behind it. “Unless you count my hair, no. Not really. But it doesn’t look like you’ve changed much yourself.” She countered, her smile still intact, gaze dropping to his now covered hands. She couldn’t help but wonder if the tattoo he’d gotten for her was still there, or if he’d opted to remove it when she took off to another part of South Korea. Was he still living in the same place or had he moved out? But more importantly, was he crying or had water collected next to his eye? She hadn’t noticed at first, but the moment she looked up at him, she could have sworn she saw a tear glistening in the corner of his eye. His awkward mannerisms only furthered her suspicion.

Without so much as a second thought, Hana inched closer, studying his features. “Are you.. crying?” She brazenly questioned, prompting the cab driver to peek into the rear-view mirror curiously. The smile on her face had finally fallen, and her porcelain face contorted into the utmost confusion. She didn’t know what the tears were for, or if he’d been teary-eyed before entering the car -- and maybe she hadn’t noticed -- but again, she wanted to refrain from asking. “Do you want a tissue?” Her hands reached for her duffel bag before he could even give her an answer, but she quickly paused, looking him over again. Thinking it over, he didn’t need tissue. What he needed was a towel. He was soaked.

Another rainy night in Seoul… no surprise there. It was the season, after all. But the news had the nerve to say that it would be a clear night. However, Jiho knew that to be a lie. He stood in the middle of a busy street with a folder over his head, a folder filled with an endless amount of lyrics, as people ran around to get out of the rain. In reality it wasn’t all that late but he needed to get up at four AM for an event later on that morning. Meaning that he had to get home ASAP. Jiho was a muttering mess as he attempted to hail down a taxi, almost crying out of sheer joy when one slowed down before him. 

“I’ve got a lady on board but room to share if you don’t mind the company.” The driver stated as he rolled up beside him.

Jiho grinned and he nodded wildly, bowing his head a few times as he pulled open the taxi door. He was filled with regret the moment he got inside. His nose was filled with a scent that brought tears to his eyes (maybe that was the rain). It evoked an almost violent reaction, his hands fisting around the folder, easily creasing the soaked material. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling an unnatural amount of hatred for the person sitting beside him. Out of all the perfumes in the world, why did she have to choose that one? With a deep breath, he turned his head to look at her - only for the air to get knocked out of his lungs. It was as if fate hated every last fiber of his being. There could be no other reason for him to be sharing a taxi with the only woman he ever loved. The same woman who took everything with her the day she ran away from him and his love.

Prior to the entrance of the other passenger, Hana had been peeking out of the rain spattered window, surveying the dark surroundings of the city. She’d only been in the cab for a little over ten minutes, yet it felt like she’d been sitting here for hours on end, watching the buildings and city lights blur together and create an amalgam of colors. As for tonight’s plans, she didn’t have anything specific in mind. It was far too early to go out, yet despite Seoul’s rainy weather, she had no intentions of being holed up all night, either. Instead, she figured she’d make a decision in the hours to come.

As the car proceeded to pull up alongside the sidewalk, the girl attentively sat up, correcting her posture and gathering her belongings so that she could make room for another. In turn, the door swung open and in came the last person she’d ever expected to see again -- Jiho. To say that her heart started racing and her breathing hitched would be a lie, although she was taken aback by his presence. She’d left behind several people in the past, and she’d leave behind several more in the future. That wasn’t news at all. But running into them again? This was absolutely a first. And it was real. This wasn’t some drunken illusion, she wasn’t high out of her mind, he wasn’t appearing in her dreams or haunting her guilty conscious. No, this was real - she was sober and he was sitting right beside her. She didn’t know how to properly respond to that.

Immediately, she glanced in the opposite direction, pursing her lips together in a mere attempt to repress the roguish expression she usually had on her face. Once the vehicle was in motion again, she kept herself occupied with Instagram, her dainty digits tapping furiously against the screen of her phone until she felt it was “safe” to look up. Much to her dismay, however, Jiho was looking directly at her. Out of habit, she did what she knew how to do best. She smiled at him - partly because the situation was awkward and she wanted to make light of it, but also because she was amused at how this happened to play out. It wasn’t every day that one got reminders of how small this world actually was.

“... Are you going to say anything or should I be the first?” She questioned, her honeyed voice finally breaking the silence that had been lingering in between them. Maybe she could’ve remained silent, keeping to herself in the corner like she hadn’t even noticed he was there, but that wasn’t her style. Besides, she was genuinely curious about him. They hadn’t been in contact since she left, but he did pop into her mind every now and then. She figured he was doing well for himself. He’d earned back whatever money she took from him, he’d found another girl to give his affections to, and he was okay - that was how she pictured it. Not once did she stop to really consider how her actions could have affected him, nor did she care to. Her assumptions made it easier for her to sleep at night. That slight tinge of guilt she felt in the beginning had passed specifically because of what she believed.