#th.

We used to like the cold alot, but when our human mom broke our only bed, throwing it outside, and practicly took everything away (bedbugs that our ex-bff brought to our place.) and forced us to sleep on a camping cot in the middle of winter where it was in the negatives, we are scared whenever we are cold now and we hate that.

Why his fingers twitch against the throttle, he doesn’t know. It’s not the usual excited buzz he gets from peeling rubber against slick pavement, an occasional reward he gives himself to pair with the lofty ones unloaded into his bank account. A measure of indulgence that causes his eyes to flash with vigor, an arousal of senses that sends him on a high. And it’s for just a moment that he believes all would be well, that nothing else mattered in the world aside from the feeling of raw power at his fingertips, the low rumble of the engine, with wind freely whipping in and out from open windows…

Jinwoo daydreams. It’s muscle memory as he taps the steering wheel until the pull is so great that he has no choice but to leave. To drive to the end of the road, hours away to the sea that calls to him where its expansive blue waits to greet him. When he gets out of his car, he leans against cold metal as he watches the waves wash over jagged rocks; seagulls hover in the breeze, thick clouds roll in the sky. Soon, a cigarette comes alive between his fingers before he leans back and takes in the scene in all of its midwinter glory. 

The wind is cool against his skin. It's a welcome reprieve when the series of jobs this past week had him feeling stifled – the break comes just in time. He had felt the web of red creeping across his vision and the sound of a pill bottle rattles in the distance. He takes a long drag because he’s come out on the other side again, the following exhale weaving smoke through his hair, the angles of his face rising from its ashes. With heightened clarity, he continues to spot the details of the scene: the loosened leaves that fall from the surrounding cliffs, the taste of salt on his tongue, the dark figure against the pale backdrop. Its movements are somehow dazed yet calculated, and now, after a few moments of curiosity, it’s all that Jinwoo can focus on. 

He stays and watches it against his instinct because something tugs at his conscience again, tempting him to satisfy this desire that spawns from somewhere deep within. The unexplainable urge to wander closer sprouts, then consumes, until he can count all the strands of hair on their head, can sense their scent and warmth rising and at last, the voice echoes: save him.

The cigarette falls from his mouth. It stutters across the rocks in a miniature fireworks display as he finds himself with the material of their sleeve bunched in his fist, his gaze unwavering even as recognition ignites behind his eyes. Do I know you? he wants to ask but instead, he lets his grip loosen and in turn, his expression as he returns to his position. “No. I mean…” he starts. Jinwoo’s never been good with words, letting actions speak for him instead. And maybe that’s why he stands there dumbfounded at what he had just done, lost to an instinct that he doesn’t yet understand. 

“So what were you doing then? Standing so close to the edge like that.” It’s hardly a question rather than a reprimand when the sharpness of his tongue returns. His eyes narrow at the realization that his momentary joy had been wasted at this stranger’s feet and he pats his chest pocket for another, running his hand through his hair when he comes up with nothing. He heaves a frustrated sigh. “Just stopping by the area for some fresh air. that’s all.” Indulging in small talk is not his forte and already, he feels a prickle of annoyance at the back of his neck. But when he looks up and meets this man’s stare once again, the tension between his eyes begins to ease.