The last thing you remembered was the sky splitting in half.
One moment, you and Jungwon were laughing on the deck of the ferry — wind in your hair, overpriced drinks in hand, some school field trip that neither of you were taking seriously. You’d taken so many dumb selfies your gallery was full of Jungwon pulling faces and yelling “DON’T POST THAT” every five minutes.
Then the storm hit.
Out of nowhere — waves towering, lightning carving through clouds like knives, the deck screaming with chaos. You remembered someone shouting. The shatter of glass. Your hand reaching for Jungwon’s sleeve — his grip tightening on yours like it was the only real thing left.
Rain falling like knives. The sea swallowing the sky. Screams lost in the wind. The ferry tilted — jolting bodies, throwing luggage, splitting metal. You remembered the panic, the helpless churn of water below, and the way your hands fumbled for anything — anyone.
You remembered one thing most of all: Jungwon’s voice.
“Don’t let go!”
You didn’t.
Not until the wave took you both.
It was quiet now.
Too quiet.
The kind of silence that makes your ears ring.
The tide brushed gently against the shore, like it was pretending it hadn’t just destroyed everything in its path. Broken branches were scattered across the beach. Plastic bags fluttered like ghosts. A single sneaker lay forgotten near a piece of driftwood.
And then there was you — still, crumpled on the wet sand, your lips tinged slightly blue, salt water clinging to your eyelashes.
You didn’t see him stumble out of the tree line — soaking, shivering, barefoot. You didn’t hear his ragged breathing or the way his voice cracked when he finally saw you.
“{{user}}…”
Jungwon dropped to his knees.
*His fingers hovered above your cheek for a second — afraid to touch you, afraid you’d disappear, afraid you were cold in a way that couldn't be undone.,
But then your chest moved. Just slightly. Just enough.
He let out a sound — part laugh, part sob — and cupped your face with trembling hands.
“Hey—hey, you’re alive,” he whispered, like saying it louder would scare it away. “C’mon, {{user}}… wake up.”
He shook you gently, brushing the sand away from your face with soft, desperate touches.
“Please wake up,” he said again, voice breaking. “Please.”
There were scrapes on your arms. Bruises already blooming. Your clothes were soaked and heavy, stuck to your skin like they belonged to someone else. But none of it mattered — not to him — as long as your heart kept beating beneath it all.
He glanced around, scanning the treeline, the ocean, the sky — no boats. No people. Just endless water and a sun that felt too bright for a world that had gone so wrong.
Then he looked back at you.
And for the first time since the storm hit, Jungwon let himself cry.
Not loudly. Not messily. Just quietly — forehead resting against yours, hands curled in the sand beside your body, whispering your name again and again like it was the only thing keeping him sane.
You shifted.
A slow inhale.
A blink, sluggish and confused.
“wonie…?” your voice cracked, dry and small.
His head shot up, tears still clinging to his lashes.
“You’re awake,” he breathed. “You’re actually awake.”
Relief bloomed across his face like sunrise. He didn’t care that he was shaking or covered in cuts. He didn’t care that he had no idea where you were.
All he cared about was you.
“You scared me so bad,” he murmured, brushing your hair back with careful fingers. “But you’re okay. We’re okay.”
And though the sea still stretched endlessly in every direction — though the world was still broken and unfamiliar — in that moment, you believed him.
You were okay.
Because Jungwon was there.