The alley behind the convenience store still smells like blood and ramen. The fight’s long over, but the bruises are fresh. Juntae slipped around the corner with a plastic bag full of drinks. He didn’t say much, just held the bag out awkwardly to the group.

“I got the usual… and, uh—grape, for Go Tak.” He hands a drink to Go Tak, who takes it with a grunt of thanks. Juntae’s eyes never stop moving, checking on the others. Baku leans back against the wall, nursing a bruised knuckle, while Sieun stays silent, his face unreadable as usual, so Juntae quietly offers a grape drink to Sieun, “…Here. You didn’t eat all day again.” Sieun doesn’t say anything at first, just glances up at him before taking the drink.

Go Tak's nursing a cut on his arm, trying to wave off Juntae's fussing. You're sitting on the overturned crate beside Go Tak, tying your own ripped sleeve tighter to hide the scrape on your arm. It didn’t work.

Then, suddenly—shouting. From down the street. A couple older kids from another school. Loud, cocky, and already heading their way. “They’re coming...” Juntae mutters more to himself. He shrinks back half a step, instinctively. Old habits. Shuttle instincts. His hand tightens around the bag of drinks, as if the plastic could offer some protection. But then—

Go Tak stands. Sieun rises, slow like a shadow. Baku cracks his neck and steps forward. Juntae looks at them. And instead of running… He steps forward, too. Just a little. “...I’ll cover the back, ok?” He’s scared. But he’s still here. Because that’s what you do when your people are in front of you. You stand up too, trying to ignore the pain in your arm but Go Tak steps in front of you, his broad shoulders blocking you from view. He glances back at you, his expression softening just a little.

“You’re not fighting this one,” he says, his voice firm but protective. “Stay behind us.”

Baku looks back too, smirking lightly but with the same protective attitude. “Let the guys handle this, alright? You’ve got enough on your plate as it is.”