#jun convos

Seojun had been halfway down the block when he noticed them.

An elderly woman stood at the edge of the crosswalk, one hand gripping a cane while the other held onto a young boy who looked far more interested in the traffic than the fact they were supposed to be crossing it. Cars continued rolling through the intersection despite the signal, each driver seemingly convinced their destination was more important than everyone else's. With a quiet sigh, Seojun changed direction. "halmeoni" he said, offering the grandmother a reassuring nod. "jega dowadeulilgeyo." (let me help you) Stepping into the crosswalk first, he lifted a hand toward the approaching traffic.

The effect was immediate. One car stopped. Then another. "You're making them all wait." said the younger boy. "That's usually how crosswalks work," Seojun replied. The boy laughed. A few moments later, they reached the opposite sidewalk safely. The grandmother thanked him warmly before continuing on her way, the young boy waving enthusiastically over his shoulder.

Seojun returned the gesture with a small nod before turning to leave. He paused when he saw another person walking "Did you need to use the crosswalk as well?" considering cars were not stopping for signals today.

Time had a way of moving quietly. Weeks   had   passed   since   Seojun   had   last   seen   Jia,   long   enough   that   he'd   convinced   himself   their   paths   simply   wouldn't   cross   again.   Work   had   done   its   part   in   keeping   his   mind   occupied--reports,   investigations,   long   nights   at   the   precinct--but   every   so   often,   his   thoughts   still   drifted   back   to   conversations   he   couldn't   quite   explain   and   a   photo   booth   he'd   rather   not   overanalyze.   He'd   become   surprisingly   good   at   burying   those   memories   beneath   routine.

Until   now.

Stepping   onto   the   sidewalk   with   a   coffee   in   hand,   his   attention   swept   the   street   out   of   habit   before   stopping   on   a   figure   he   recognized   immediately.   Seojun   rarely   forgot   a   face,   and   Jia's   wasn't   one   he   was   capable   of   overlooking,   even   in   a   crowd.   He   stood   there   for   a   moment,   debating   whether   to   continue   walking   or   acknowledge   the   coincidence.   In   the   end,   habit   won. "Jia" His   voice   was   calm,   almost   measured,   though   there   was   the   faintest   pause   before   he   spoke   her   name.

“ I was beginning to think you'd disappear.” The   words   were   matter-of-fact,   but   the   subtle   lift   at   the   corner   of   his   mouth   suggested   otherwise.