CHAPTER 1
The Loneliest Feeling

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Oftentimes, when you woke, still sleepy, to cold morning light, you would first outstretch a hand to feel at the solidity of the park bench beneath you, or the scratchiness of your apartment's thin, discolored mattress if you had been feeling particularly dispirited the night before.

Last night had not fit that criterion; you had fallen asleep with a buoyant warmth in your chest.

Leisurely, you rolled the pads of your fingers over the dark metal at your back, opening your eyes to see the birds—little black dots in the sky—flying happily above you. You laid a palm flat against the bench, content. It was cold to the touch, vitalizing to the body.

Nowadays, you hesitated to spend even a lone night in your apartment. There was no solace to be found there: the walls were blank, the furniture sparse, the whole of it impersonal and belonging more to itself than to you. And, as of late, it was unsafe.

You weren't sure how they had tracked you down this time, but they had, and that was all you cared to acknowledge. They always did, no matter how well you hid yourself behind fake names and shadowy corners.

It wasn't you that they wanted—not really. But your father had long been dead, and your brother had been indefinitely jailed. The title of most accessible family member, as well as the debts and the past grievances, had hence been bestowed upon you.

You extended your limbs atop the bench, stretching, heard the joints pop, and raised yourself to a sit. Hugging your anorak closer to your body, you found that it all mattered very little to you.

Because, last night, you had been given a chance. And that was all that you had ever wanted.

You slipped a bare hand, tremulous from the cold, into your pocket, feeling the cash that was housed there: one hundred thousand won in counting.

It had taken about as many slaps to earn it—your cheek was sore and pinkish in proof—but you were grateful nonetheless. The pain had dwindled. The money hadn't. And you had called the number on the back of the business card as soon as you were able.

You rose from the bench and adjusted your sleep-wrinkled clothing, ignoring the critical stares of other, sprucer parkgoers.

It was best not to stay in one place longer than necessary, and you had a destination in mind.

You walked unhurriedly and in silence to the convenience store: one of the nicer ones out of those you had once frequented with your brother. You were too consumed by that tiny, hopeful spark in you to bother looking vigilantly over your shoulder as often as you should have.

Staring downward, watching the pavement pass by in blurs beneath your feet, you thought again of your brother.

As a child, you had loved walking down the streets of Seoul with him, observing all of the people, silently envious of them, and entering all of the shops, gawking at things that sparkled, at things you could not afford.

The warmth inside of you was now something somber and aching. You wanted to see him again, to walk along these streets beside him, for old time's sake. To stand on the edge of Hangang Bridge as you had so many times before, your face turned to the sky, gripping the railing so tightly it hurt, and throw your arms above your head, feeling the wind tickle the gaps between your fingers. To stare down into the river below, glassy and blackened by the night, and talk with him, tossing coins into the water, feeling larger than the world and all it contained.

The ache, you thought, walking quicker now. I miss you.

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You bought enough at the store to fill a large paper bag to the brim: food for a decently sized meal—the most you had been able to afford in a long while—a cheap bottle of wine for your own pleasure, a bag of candy, and a stuffed bunny for Eun-seo: a lovable girl of eight, and the daughter of your neighbor.

When your apartment had still been safe to dwell in, her mother—who was often away, working long, grueling hours—would often ask you to stop by and watch over her. You hardly minded. You would cook small meals for Eun-seo when she grew hungry, comprised of ingredients you knew she liked, and eat beside her. When she wanted to play, as she so often did, you would sit cross-legged on the floor and await her instruction. When she was ready for bed, though she would deny the fact adamantly, you would tuck her in, making sure she was comfortable, and read her to sleep.

You looked down at the long, fluffy bunny ears peeking out of your bag, feeling childishly giddy. You knew that your pick would be to her tastes: she liked things that were soft, things that were sweet in the face. You smiled thinking of the joy that would brighten her eye as you handed it to her, smiling.

It had been a long while since you had seen her last. You hadn't wanted to wait so long, knowing her mother needed the help, but you refused to put them at risk by hanging around the complex. You were hunted, and this trip alone could prove dangerous. You would be quick, you told yourself, and stay just long enough to say your goodbye, even if it wouldn't be recognized as one.

You weren't sure how long you would be away. Over the phone, you had been given a pickup time, a date, and a location. Nothing more.

Gently swinging your grocery bag in tune with your step, you stared longingly toward the arches of Hangang Bridge as they lay stark against the morning sky, growing larger as you neared. You found no issue in admitting that your feet had carried you almost subconsciously toward them. The day had only just begun, and Eun-seo was likely still asleep, lost in her mind's own dreamscape. You had ample time for pitstops.

Steadily climbing the steps toward the pedestrian walkway, you wondered if she had grown any taller since you'd last seen her. If she had, you'd be sure to mention it. She was keen on praises of that sort.

You shivered as the increase in elevation sent a gust of cold air into your face, defensively lifting your shoulders and sliding your free hand into your pocket.

In spite of the chill, you were gladdened to see that the bridge was, for the most part, empty, save for the handful of early risers who stood watching the clouds drift across the sky from their places near the handrails, their faces peaceful and ruminative.

You found yourself glancing repeatedly toward one of them, his body slouched forward, as you walked along the length of the bridge, slowly growing nearer to him.

He stared silently down into the waves of Han River, his hair tousled from the wind and colored a vibrant, eye-catching purple. He was using his fingertips to spin the protective, rotating handrail atop the parapet, his face solemn. Observing him, you noticed that his nails were painted, the colors blurry from movement.

You knew that stare, that hopelessness of posture.

Cautiously, you moved toward him, halting a healthy few feet away. You could hear the music leaking faintly from his headphones as you set your bag down beside you, latched onto the metal bars of the railing, and spared him a sidelong glance.

He hadn't noticed you.

You looked down into the river, watching the waves collapse and devour one another. Your gaze fixed, you slid a hand downward to fish in your pocket, the pads of your fingers brushing against cash and loose change.

You dug around a moment longer, trying to grasp at what you were searching for. Then, at last succesful, you retracted your hand and pulled out a single ten won coin.

It was cold, small, insignificant in your palm. Just there. Aimless. You ran a thumb gently, almost affectionately, across its face, feeling at its bumps and its ridges.

Closing your eyes, you formed a fist around it, your hand a cherry and the coin its pit, and lapsed into silence.

Then, slowly, you opened your eyes, planted your feet firm against the pavement, cocked your arm back, and threw it as far as you were capable, aiming for a solitary wave, gentle and blue, a ways away.

It broke the surface and sunk silently downward, forever lost.

You thought of what your brother would say before he pitched his own coin in succession, his voice ripe with ambition: the farther the distance, the greater the luck.

In the past, much to the irritation of your juvenile mind, his coins had consistently traveled much farther than yours had, even after several attempts. But today, you had him beat. And it had only taken a single shot.

Sensing the eyes burning into your profile, you turned to see the man from before, his tattooed hands no longer fussing with the handrail, staring intently at you.

There was judgement in the contours of his face, in the subtle downward tilt of his lips, in the near imperceptible furrow in his brow as he realized you had caught him looking. Quickly, he turned away, suddenly interested in the brightening sky.

With intent, you grabbed your bag by the handles, traversed the gap that separated you, and set it down just as quickly as you had picked it up.

As you stood before him, he reluctantly slipped his headphones off, leaving them to lay dormant around his neck, still pulsing with a soft, muffled beat. He turned toward you, as if noticing you for the first time, and raised a brow in question. "You want a picture?" he asked, his voice forcedly haughty.

He extended an arm to invite you into his side, ready to pose, and you could only shake your head, staring back at him in blatant confusion. You would've scoffed at his arrogance had it not come off so inauthentic. Maybe if you hadn't caught him, just moments ago, staring hopelessly down into the river below, you would have believed it.

He let the outstretched arm fall limply at his side, turning back to the water. "Suit yourself." He raised a hand to tug his headphones back on.

Before he had the chance, you demanded he wait, your voice rising moderately in pitch. You shoved a hand back into your pocket, searching for another coin. Once your fingertips alighted upon one, you retracted your hand and held it up to his face, as if it was illuminated by a spotlight, pinching it between your index and your thumb.

"Here," you said, limply waving a hand to prod him into holding a palm out.

Reluctantly, without breaking eye contact, he did.

You placed the coin in the center of his palm, your fingertips brushing lightly against his skin, pale and pinkened from the cold.

His face was a slate of skepticism. Tossing the coin softly upward with one hand, he used the other to snag the vape from his pocket and take a quick pull. Casually, he tilted his head to the side, his mouth exhaling the vapor. It was quick to dissipate. He turned back to you, holding the coin between two of his fingers, and cocked a brow. "What's it for?"

You replied laconically, knowing that he had seen you chuck your own into the depths of Han River: "You make a wish, then you toss it." You gestured over the railing, toward the blue ripples scattered upon the surface of the water. "For good luck."

Briefly, watching the river stretch endlessly onward, you wondered why, up to this point, you hadn't thought to take Eun-seo for a walk along the bridge, letting her feel the wind as it billowed the soft-hued fabric of her dress, as it entangled the dark strands of her hair. Engrossed in the scene before you, you softly added, "The farther you throw it, the luckier you'll get."

Beside you, he stared down into the river in tandem, his expression one born not of awe, but of scrutiny, as if he was looking at its color and its wavelets and trying to find in them what you so easily seemed to. "Who told you that?" he asked, more out of obligation to reply than a real sense of curiosity. "A shaman?"

You scoffed, amused, and shook your head. "My brother." You considered saying more, but ultimately thought it best to leave it at that. There was little point in saddening yourself.

You waited for him to say something else, but there was no sound except for that of two bodies standing together, unspeaking, at a handrail, each harboring a mind deep in thought.

Seeing him only vaguely, out of the corner of your eye, you said, "I think you should try it."

He showed no sign of having heard you, but you knew that he had. The only detectable movement in him was that of his fingers, which moved the coin gently to and fro, but didn't seem intent on loosening their grip.

"You could use some luck," you said, your tone thick with finality.

Feeling there was little else for you to do here, you gave him a departing look—one you were sure had gone unseen—cradled your grocery bag to your chest, and withdrew, walking in the same direction from which you had come.

Unmoving, he watched your figure grow smaller, more elusive, with each step, feeling the cold metal take ahold of every tendon in his palm.

Beneath him, the river rolled gently on, relentless.

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      When you walked into the bedroom with light, pattering feet, it was to a peacefully sleeping Eun-seo, her face slack with calm. Her hair was splayed messily about her pillow, her blanket twisted around her body.

Filled from head to toe with warmth, you held the stuffed bunny in your arms, one of its long, furry ears lying atop your shoulder, and pressed a palm firmly to its belly.

Not wanting to disturb her rest, you avoided the light switch and shut the door quietly behind you, opting to sit on the floor beside her bed. You tucked your knees in, leaning backward to rest your head against her frayed pink comforter.

You sat the bunny atop your knees and tilted its head, soft against your fingers, from side to side. The ache in your back, born from a night spent sleeping atop a stiff park bench, was now apparent.

You sighed and let the bunny go limp between your hands. After a long, silent moment of staring deeply into its face, you twisted your body to more easily lift the covers off of Eun-seo's sleeping body. You placed the plush toy beside her, its head snug in the gap that existed between her chin and her shoulder. Your movements soft and slow, you lifted a hand to affectionately brush a wispy strand of hair from her forehead. Then, satisfied, you tucked the both of them in with care.

Now aware of your exhaustion, you slouched farther into the side of her bed and let your head fall against the comforter, staring, heavy-lidded, at the splotchy ceiling.

To the sound of Eun-seo's soft, rhythmic breathing, you fell quickly asleep.

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Author's Note: First chapter!! Would love to hear whatever thoughts you have so far :)