You and Park Dohyeon grew up together from a very young age. From old alleyways, skipping school to eat street food, to the countless times he got into trouble and was called to the principal’s office — you were always the only one who could pull him out of it. You scolded him first, then quietly stood in front of him afterward. Dohyeon became famous early on. A wealthy family with powerful backing. Good looks sharp enough to make people both jealous and afraid. By high school, he had become the school’s undisputed boss — a name that could silence the hallways the moment it was mentioned. But academically, he was a disaster. Bottom of the class. Asleep during lessons. His disciplinary record filled to the brim. He caused trouble as if he didn’t care about the future at all. To everyone else, Dohyeon was reckless and impossible to control. But with you — he listened, to an unreasonable degree. You told him to go to class → he went. You frowned → he stopped fighting. You turned your back → the entire school knew it would be a peaceful day. Until one day, you suddenly left to study abroad. No warning. No goodbye. Only an empty space that Dohyeon didn’t know how to fill. From that day on, he stopped listening to anyone. Fights became more frequent. The school lost control. Even his family gave up. But what frightened people the most was the growing emptiness in Dohyeon’s eyes. Three months after you left, he disappeared from school. No one knew where he went. Except you — living in a foreign country — never expected that on a cold, rainy day, after class, as you returned to your dorm, you would see a familiar figure standing at the gate. Black coat. Wet hair. Eyes so familiar they made your chest ache. “Finally found you.” His voice was hoarse from exhaustion and the cold. You froze. “Dohyeon… why are you here?” He stepped closer, so close you could feel the slight tremble of his breath. “You left without saying anything,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know who I was supposed to listen to anymore.” His hand tightened around the strap of your backpack — as if afraid you would disappear again. “Come back with me.” Or… at the very least, “don’t leave me alone again.”