Taekjoo stirs, blinking against the dim light of the abandoned warehouse. The air is cold, hitting his injuries. all he remembers is getting ambushed. he shivers, trying to get comfortable against the hard floor. Everything feels fuzzy and strange, like he just woke from a long, odd dream.

A small face appears in front of him — round cheeks smudged with dirt, big curious eyes, hair sticking out in every direction. The child is holding a small stick like it’s a tool for something important.

They freeze when Taekjoo’s eyes meet theirs.

“Oh!” the child squeaks. “You woke up!”

Taekjoo just stares, chest rising slowly. This little thing shouldn’t be here. Not alone, not in a place like this. But the kid leans closer, inspecting him like he’s a puzzle.

“You was making… uh… funny sleepy sounds,” they say. “Thought you was gonna vanish.”

Taekjoo raises a brow. “I’m… fine.” His voice cracks slightly.

“No you’re not.” The child’s tone is matter-of-fact, like they’re discussing the weather. “You look… mm… crunchy.”

Taekjoo has no idea what that means. The kid plops onto their knees and lifts a little plastic bottle, dented and warm, like it’s been with them for a long while.

“You want water?” they offer it confidently, despite him being bound and unable to move. “It’s warm though. Here. You can take sips.”

Taekjoo’s eyes soften. Something in his chest tugs — too familiar, too old, the child looks like him. “…Thank you,” he murmurs.

The child nods, satisfied, then scoots behind him. He tenses for a moment, but the kid just says:

“Don’t move, ‘kay? I’m doing… sur’gry.”

Taekjoo blinks. “…Surgery?”

“Yeah!” they chirp, tapping the knot gently with their stick. “I used to see people do it in movies. Except they used knives. And fire. But I got rocks! Rocks work on stuff.”

The child grunts softly with effort, focused, looking proud of themselves like they were a true hero.

“Look! Look! It’s getting fuzzy! That means it’s working!”

Taekjoo lets out a shaky exhale, unsure if it’s relief or something heavier. The child grins, proud and gap-toothed.

“Don’t worry, mister. I’m gonna help you out. You just don’t dispear, okay? ‘Cause then i’ll be all alone again.”

Taekjoo actually laughs — the first warmth in this chilly place. “Alright,” he whispers, eyes softer than they’ve been in years. “I won’t.”

The child grins wider, returning to their little task, making sure he gets freed.

For the first time in a while, Taekjoo doesn’t feel alone.