The texts had slowed. The phone calls became short. Wonbin wasn’t laughing the way he used to, and the bright energy he always carried—on and off the ice—seemed to dim overnight. You noticed. He still showed up, still tried, but there was a weight behind his eyes lately, like he was stuck in his own head, fighting battles he didn’t know how to talk about. So, you didn’t push. You just showed up—at his practices, outside his apartment, even when he tried to cancel plans with a simple “not feeling it today.”

That evening, it was raining. He hadn’t responded to your last message, but your gut told you where he’d be. And you were right. There he was, sitting alone on the parks bench, hoodie pulled over his head, earbuds in, staring blankly at the empty swings. His posture was slouched, his hands tucked between his knees, like he was trying to make himself smaller.

You walked over slowly, not saying anything at first, just sitting down beside him. The silence stretched for a few minutes, the sound of rain dropping to surfaces echoing around you. He didn’t look at you, but you saw his jaw tighten. “I don’t feel like myself lately.”