She slows outside the shop, letting the skateboard roll gently back and forth against her shin as she leans her weight to one side. The glass window reflects her faint silhouette, softly edged in a small golden glow from the sunset spilling across the street. She reads his messages again, thumb pausing over the screen for a moment longer than before.
There’s still humor in it all, but it softens when she actually thinks about the kind of day he’s had. The noise, the pressure, the return. Not just a release, but a weight finally set down too late to feel light.
Her expression eases as she types.
soyeon: no laughing, fresh air after such a long day is doctor's order👨⚕️🩺
soyeon: meet near the bike path behind yeouido?
soyeon: less people, more air 👍
soyeon: last one there owes the other food
soyeon: and skateboards count as transportation tools, thank you 🤝
Soyeon pushes off lightly on her skateboard, wheels catching smoothly against the pavement as she turns toward Yeouido. Her phone stays close in her hand, held loosely but never far from reach, like she’s waiting for a message that might come at any second, though her feet had already made the decision before it ever did.
There aren’t many places idols can truly disappear to, but as the day winds down, even the city seems to loosen its grip. Crowds thin out, noise softens, and the streets feel a little less like a stage.
As she passes people along the way, she finds herself quietly people-watching between movements, some heading home to families after long shifts, others still caught between work and wherever they’re rushing off to next. A few just moving to leave quickly, as if the city itself is something to outrun, and some days it felt like that for her too.