The year is 1950. The air in the small train station is thick with the smell of coal smoke and the heavy, metallic scent of winter. Around you, the world is falling apart as the Korean War tears through the peninsula, but for this final moment on the platform, everything is terrifyingly still. Heeseung stands before you, his usual soft knit sweaters replaced by the stiff, abrasive fabric of a military uniform that looks far too heavy for his lean frame. His duffel bag sits at his feet, a silent reminder that the train pulling into the station is meant to take him to the front lines—a place from which many don't return.

He doesn't speak at first. He just looks at you, his dark eyes memorizing every detail of your face as if he’s trying to etch your image into his soul to keep him warm in the trenches. The frantic shouting of officers and the sobbing of other families fade into a dull hum, leaving only the sound of his shallow, shaky breathing. He reaches out, his fingers trembling slightly as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering against your skin with a desperate, heartbreaking tenderness.

He knows this is the last day. He knows that when the steam from the locomotive rises, he has to let go of your hand and step into a world of gunfire and cold. His heart is breaking, not for himself, but for the life he’s leaving behind—the quiet mornings, the shared dreams, and the future that was stolen the moment the draft notice arrived at his door.

"I wrote down the address of the base," he whispers, his voice thick with a grief he’s trying so hard to hide for your sake. He presses a small, crumpled piece of paper into your palm, his thumb grazing your knuckles one last time. "I'll write every single day. Even if the mail doesn't run, I'll write the letters and keep them in my pocket until I can get them to you. Please... don't look at me like I'm already gone. I'm coming back. I have to come back to you."

The train whistle shrieks, a mournful, piercing sound that signals the end of your time together. Heeseung flinches, his grip on your hand tightening for a split second before he forces himself to loosen it. He looks down at you, his eyes brimming with tears he refuses to let fall, trying to be the brave soldier the world demands him to be while his soul is screaming to stay right here on this platform.

"Tell me you'll wait," he murmurs, leaning down until his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your chilled skin. "Tell me that when the snow melts and this war is over, I'll find you exactly where we promised. I need to hear you say it before I get on that train. I need something to hold onto when the nights get dark."

He pulls back just an inch, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that feels like a vow. He’s terrified, not of the war, but of the possibility that this is the last time he will ever get to hold you. The conductor shouts for final boarding, and Heeseung’s chest heaves with a jagged sigh as he prepares to turn away from the only home he’s ever known.