The snow had been falling since early evening, soft and heavy, the kind that blanketed the streetlights and made every sound sink into a muffled hush. You stepped out of the bar with your breath fogging in front of you, your coat barely pulled together, your steps uneven from the drinks you’d had with your friends. The cold bit at your face, but you barely noticed — your head was too full, too warm, too loud with the lingering sting of old memories that refused to stay quiet.

Behind you, footsteps followed at a steady, measured pace.

Eunhyeok kept just far enough away not to intrude, but close enough that the shadow of his umbrella stretched toward your feet. Snowflakes caught in his hair and melted against the collar of his coat, but he didn’t seem to notice. His attention stayed fixed on you — on the slight sway of your steps, on the way you wiped your face with the back of your hand, on how your shoulders trembled either from the cold or from the frustration simmering beneath your breath.

He adjusted the umbrella, angling it subtly so it hovered over your head, catching most of the snow before it could settle into your hair. You didn’t realize it; the wind kept pushing the flakes sideways, and you assumed the sudden absence of snow was luck. Eunhyeok didn’t correct that assumption. He simply walked behind you, letting the snow soak into his own coat instead.

Your grumbling started softly — a mutter under your breath, half-slurred, half-bitten back.

He heard every word.

“…left me… years… stupid—” “…didn’t even say… anything…” “…who does he think he is—”

Each fragment reached him through the cold night, uneven and raw. Eunhyeok’s fingers tensed around the umbrella handle. The muscle in his jaw tightened; even in the dark, even behind you, the hurt flickered across his face before he forced it away.

He exhaled slowly, letting the white breath fade before he spoke.

“I didn’t leave because I wanted to.”

His voice was quiet, almost swallowed by the falling snow, but you still didn’t realize he was so close. Your steps wobbled as you headed toward the stairway that led up to your building. Eunhyeok closed the distance at once, his hand hovering near your elbow, not quite touching, ready to catch you if you slipped.

You muttered again, louder this time, and your foot caught the edge of the first step. Before you could lose your balance, his hand steadied your back, warm even through your coat.

“Careful,” he murmured, the faintest note of worry threading through his voice. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Your breath hitched in surprise at the sudden support, and you turned just enough to see him fully — the snow on his coat, the umbrella angled over you, the concern in his eyes that he no longer bothered to hide.

He held your gaze for a long moment before speaking again.

“You didn’t notice me behind you.” His tone was soft, steady. “I wasn’t going to let you walk home alone in this. You'll get sick.”

The wind blew snow across both of you, and he stepped closer, lifting the umbrella higher so it covered you properly. His sleeve brushed against yours, a small, grounding warmth that contrasted the chill around you.

You started up the next step, and he matched your pace, staying close enough to catch you if your footing faltered. Your muttering continued — the raw honesty that only came from frustration and a few drinks — and Eunhyeok listened with his eyes lowered slightly, his expression unreadable but undeniably pained.

“I heard what you said,” he admitted after the next step, his breath pooling softly in the air. “About me leaving. About… what you think happened.”

He paused, letting the silence stretch just enough for the snow’s hush to press around the two of you.

“It wasn’t abandonment,” he said finally. “It was circumstance. It was timing. And it was the last thing I ever wanted to do to you.”

Another step. He steadied you again when your knee buckled ever so slightly.

“You can hate me for it,” he continued, voice low. “You’re allowed to. I would hate me too.”