Wooyoung returned to the institute early the next morning. He used his own dusty key card he rarely needed since Yongguk basically lived here and let himself in. His hair was covered by the beanie his brother had gifted him for Christmas and he had a bag of burnt almonds under his arm as his stress food.

He would be in Munich as early in the morning as possible, in case San had shown up during the night. That way, he wouldn't have to wait too long for Wooyoung to come around.

It was all planned out. Wooyoung was in higher spirits today as he changed his uniform and left his clothes in the cabinet for later. Once more, he wore his remote and his card cradled close to his body as his most important belongings.

The last evening with Seungyoun hadn't been so bad. Their usual bickering had elevated Wooyoung's mood and drawn away his worries to allow him some sleep. Seungyoun had assured him San might have run into a minor issue as well, but since he knew about Wooyoung's work, he would find his way to their infamous institute even if he couldn't come to their rendezvous point in Germany.

Wooyoung had agreed with him and decided to try once more to see if he could leave the message in case San dropped by on any other day between the wars and now. If San wouldn't show up again, Wooyoung would just wait for him in the present time. Their building wasn't hard to find, so as long as San had the card, he could come by whenever he had sorted himself out. The date on the card read January of the upcoming year, but Wooyoung would receive him after that, too.

They would figure it out. After all, they had all the time in the world.

Wooyoung stepped back into Munich on the first day of April to see if San had just been held up for a few hours. He passed the same debris of the buildings, the same people salvaging the rubble. Today, the tank that patrolled the streets passed by him. The soldiers on top of it wore the American flag on their uniforms. They rushed past him without a hitch after he had respectfully stepped away from the mass of metal inching down the street.

The square was empty today, too. Wooyoung went back into position at the same corner as the day before. He would wait until noon. If San remained hidden, he would try to find some information if San ever showed up around here.

Wooyoung idled around and played with his watch as he waited. The minutes ticked by, both torturously slow and too fast for his liking.

Noon was an hour away when one of the rubble women nearby approached him.

"Who are you waiting for, boy?" She asked with the tired voice of someone who had gone through too much in life. Pity filled Wooyoung's eyes as he gazed upon her wrinkled face.

"My lover. He hasn't shown yesterday when we were supposed to meet."

She considered the words for a moment before she gave an understanding nod.

"You can try at the post office to the south. Those who lost their lovers and family leave messages there. If he comes back, he might check."

When Wooyoung smiled at her in gratitude, her lips twitched into a thin smile. It looked as if she had forgotten how to smile and her brain remembered only the theory of it, but Wooyoung counted it anyway.

"Thank you, I will go there," he agreed. The woman took off with a limp to her left leg and returned to digging around the houses with her hunched back.

After sticking around a while longer, Wooyoung left in the direction she had advised him to go. The bleak city moved past him and Wooyoung's sole consolidation regarding its misery was that it would become a striving and beautiful city once again in the future. By now, the generation that had lived through the Second World War had died out entirely, and the traces of agony healed. The land and people's memories remained scarred, but as with anything in life, better days had come around.

Wooyoung found the post office next to the mostly intact barracks. American soldiers milled around there and conversed in groups with each other. One of them - a short male with black hair - came out of the office and held the door for Wooyoung as he went in. Wooyoung thanked him as he looked around inside.

Bags made of linen with the word 'Post' printed on it with big, black letters sat in corners, ready to get distributed. The teller behind the makeshift table had a handful of drawers labelled with different provinces and countries behind him to sort the direction the letters needed to go right away.

Wooyoung stepped up to the man. The stress on the man's features intimidated him. No matter the experience Wooyoung had, the people here had gone through worse and he valued that.

"How can I help you?" The guy had a northern German accent swinging with his impatient voice. When Wooyoung drew his message card from his jacket, the man's moustache twitched.

"I have a message for someone if they come by here. Could I perhaps store it?"

The man nodded and reached for a basket. He motioned Wooyoung to throw his card to the mess of letters, lockets on necklaces, crumpled pictures and other trinkets that conveyed people's memories.

How many of those would reach the person they were meant for? How many waited in vain?

"If your person comes by and searches for a message, I will have them search through the basket." With a curt nod, the man put the basket back into its corner. Wooyoung's eyes lingered on it, hoping it would do its job for him.

After telling the worker goodbye, Wooyoung trudged back outside. To his surprise, the man who had opened the door for him earlier still stood at the entrance, and he looked up when Wooyoung passed him. His attentive eyes searched Wooyoung's troubled features.

"You're not from here, are you?"

Surprised, Wooyoung stared back at him. Other than the other soldiers in the barracks, this man spoke French. The other male saw through the veil of confusion and spotted Wooyoung's alarm.

"Don't worry, I don't mean bad. You don't seem to be one of those who recently returned to rebuild the city. Let's talk." The man led Wooyoung further away from the barracks and into a more secluded area. Wooyoung followed with intrigue, but kept his senses watchful of his surroundings. Most houses near the barracks had already been rebuilt or cleared away when there was no hope for them anymore. The soldiers seemed to use their time wisely.

"I'm Hongjoong," the man introduced himself as they leaned into a corner outside from view. Hongjoong offered Wooyoung a cigarette, but he declined politely. With the glimmering stick between his lips, Hongjoong observed the city and the people building there without actually being employed. They were the depressed Germans who clung to their homes from a better time.

"Some parts of the city are still in shambles, but reparations are going well. As soon as more workers move back here, it will look less horrible. Which side did you serve?"

Wooyoung considered him for a while, but the other man seemed harmless. Invested with Wooyoung's person, but not out for trouble.

"I am a Swiss legman. Carrying the news left and right. My name's Wooyoung."

Hongjoong nodded and blew his smoke in the direction Wooyoung wasn't standing in.

"Any news to carry?"

Wooyoung shook his head.

"I'm searching for my lover here. I told him to meet here, but he hasn't shown up."

Hongjoong grimaced.

"My condolences."

"I think he's fine; he's a tough guy. But I haven't seen him in quite a while and wouldn't even know in which city to ask for him. Not that it's easy to find a single man among all the people here."

Hongjoong nodded to that. As much as people tried to keep lists in these years, identities came and went. Especially those of a certain immortal.

"We have many undocumented friends whom we don't know where they disappeared to yet. The general rule is to assume they are dead, but I dislike the possibility of ditching them in a dire situation if we give up on them."

For a while, they stood in mutual silence. Hongjoong finished his cigarette and stomped it out with his boot. Then he looked at Wooyoung again.

"Know his side or occupation?"

When Wooyoung shook his head, Hongjoong's puzzlement grew. He didn't voice it out loud, but Wooyoung saw it in the way his mind tried to piece together how their relationship worked without Wooyoung knowing anything.

"He might have switched depending on the circumstances," Wooyoung helped. It was a weak point, but Hongjoong accepted it with a shrug.

"He is about my age. Since you have keen eyes, he might stand out to you just how I did." Wooyoung grinned sunnily when Hongjoong had to snicker.

"I will keep my eyes open if I see another peculiar person who might belong to you. Until then, good luck finding him."

Wooyoung smiled faintly.

"Thank you."

They parted when Hongjoong's break was over and he had to return to his post. Wooyoung disappeared between the houses and ducked into the alleys that hid his escape back into the present world.

As soon as he was back home, Wooyoung set down the remote on its stand thoughtfully. Depending on what San did during the war, he might have comrades searching for him, too. Maybe there was no reason to worry. He might have been held up at the border and couldn't arrive in time after coming back from China or so.

Wooyoung would wait and see. Now that the address leading to him was somewhere in the past and only San could understand it, Wooyoung was more soothed in his worries of the man not finding him.

Wooyoung went home after only half a shift. He texted Yongguk that San hadn't shown up and that his arrival might be late. Yongguk accepted that news with his usual patience and wished Wooyoung a merry Christmas.

Today, Wooyoung didn't hang out with Seungyoun. He went home to call his parents and siblings one after the other to thank them for their presents and watched them show off the ones he had sent. His mother complained in her most dramatic Italian that he should come back home soon and relish in the Mediterranean climate that didn't get too cold even in the deepest winter. Her songbirds jumped around in their new cage behind her and showed off the new playthings and space they got.

Wooyoung promised to drop by soon. He teased he might bring someone with him and his mother got so busy playing a guessing game of who it might be that she forgot her missing him.

Wooyoung laid on his couch, calling his family until late at night. By the time he got up to turn on a light that showed off the snow falling outside, his sister called it a day and told him to go to bed.

Wooyoung ate first - hopefully, one of the last meals without San - and then sat on his bed scrolling through his phone. He looked up names including the letters s, a, and n in the dominant languages of the World War to figure out which one sounded most like one San would use. If he could find San on any listing, he might know where he was stationed and trail the steps of his team.

He gave it up after a while, since he couldn't figure out if San would even seek the danger of the war.

After wasting his time some, Wooyoung went to bed. As before, it felt too big and empty around him, but he had made up for that by now. With his leftover pillows and plushies (including San's new pillow), he created a wall of softness behind him that was just firm enough to suffice for him to pretend it was San cuddled up against him. With memories of the man's touches, his kisses, and words he mumbled tiredly into Wooyoung's ears playing in his head, Wooyoung found some sleep.

He didn't set up his alarm clock since he could do nothing but stay inside and wait for something to happen by itself. Either Yongguk gave him a different job to fill his time with, or Wooyoung had to wait patiently until San showed up at the institute.

Wooyoung slept a lot that night since there was no need to rise at a certain time. Even if his dreams were plagued with depressing images of Germany.