happy holidays to everyone celebrating i hope ur all well ⭐️ the rest of the starters i owe should be posted next week !

[ to: @gndaeseong ]

saein hasn't been standing here long. around the outskirts of the carnival sat a few more obscure stalls, catering handmade things that didn't seem so popular as the other food deeper in. saein came across them by accident, first in the search of some bathrooms — but now he hovers around the edge of one stall, beneath its awning adorned with paper lanterns, eyes fixed on a figure across the field who has been standing there for almost as long as he has been. maybe even longer. saein didn't notice them until he happened to stop and look around, after all. he takes a hesitant step towards one of the other stalls, where another carnival-goer is passing through. the figure's too far away for him to discern a face, but he feels, vaguely, like they're waiting for something. "hey, do you have someone waiting on you, by any chance?" he turns to the other person at his side, angling himself away but not so far that he can't still see them in the corner of his eye. "someone over there's been looking here for at least the last ten minutes."

[ to: @gntaesung ]

"quick, over there, before they come back." saein pushes taesung towards the abandoned face painting station, all with a gleam in his eye. he was no artist, not officially, but one of his favorite parts of a show used to be the hidden times backstage, meticulously applying lines of color to his cheeks, his eyes, his mouth—what felt like a maskmaking ritual, to put on the face of somebody, something else for the night. oddly, it was those times he stood highest on the rafters, true face masked and figure dressed beyond recognition, that he felt most at home with himself. here, with two stools and a simple palette, he obviously can't do anything too intricate, but that doesn't stop him from sliding into the artist's seat all the same. he wheels around and urgently pats for taesung to take the other seat in front of him. the arrangement isn't too far from sitting together on the train, he muses. he opens the palette to reds, golds, and violets, eyes catching on the mini plastic containers of little jewels, stickers, and glitter. "all right. any requests?" he's grinning; one of the most significant things he's learned about taesung is the admirable and sometimes frightening depth of his love for gureum. maybe saein will turn him into a cat too.

[ — ... ]

as heejin glances back up, however, she notices the man is as white as paper and can’t stand still for even a second. her anger deflates, and she furrows her eyebrows. “are you... are you gonna, like, pass out or something? do you need a doctor?” the last thing she wanted was to have to deal with a medical emergency — and she would probably ditch him with park security as soon as possible — but... there’s something in the way he can’t stop looking over his shoulder that makes her pause and take things seriously for a second.

[ to: @gnheejin ] / TW. mild horror

ruby lights, golden stars, flashing stars. soft music, laughing faces. when he first arrived at the circus and eunha brought him to his own room, no one lived in the trailer right across from him. one of our former stiltwalkers, eunha said. he's no longer with us. she'd offered no other clarification on that, but back then his imagination filled in the rest. at night, when he dreamed of gaenari finally catching up to him, it became a long, stick-limbed man unfolding from the rickety doors of the trailer just outside, giggling and rustling like hundreds of little spiders as it took a peek into his room. waiting, waiting.

saein saw him. he saw the old pictures that used to hang in eunha's office, all of her old performers, and because he saw the pictures, he had a face for his monster.

it takes just one glimpse tonight: a pale man's face, floating and grinning empty-eyed high above the races. one glimpse and the thin thread that's been keeping him together since he left finally snaps, and he runs. of course he runs, DEAR SECRET AT NIGHT SOMETHING WAITS TO GET ITS HANDS ON ME I CAN FEEL IT WATCHING IT SCARES ME SO BADLY BUT I DON'T KNOW WHERE ELSE I CAN GO. it followed him to eunha and then it followed him back to gaenari and that was what he saw go into the horse pens and now it's here, and it's going to get him, it's going to take him and lock him back in that box—

he doesn't see the person until it's too late, until they're saying angry words at him and he's staring at the mess he's made on the ground. her food— yes, her food, with the carnival still spinning around them, and the crowd, and that face looming not far behind.

then it hits him. as he looks at her, he feels its smiling eyes shift from him to her.

now it knows her face too.

saein shakes his head, eyes wide and near manic. "we have to go," he whispers furiously. he doesn't think, just hooks his arm through hers and starts pushing forward in the crowd again, headed for anywhere, just as far as possible in the opposite direction. "there's someone dangerous here, they've been following me and it's not safe, so we have to go."

[ to: @gnseojun ]

"hey—!"

saein half runs into the stranger just as he finally pushes free of the crowd. indignation makes him bold — he grabs them by the elbow, planting himself squarely in their path.

he falters there.

five minutes ago, someone bumped into him in front of a stall. they'd said excuse me, he'd said, it's okay, and it wasn't until they dipped back into the steady stream of carnivalgoers that he realized the pocket where he kept his wallet had been emptied.

he's sure that this is the right person. he'd followed them, kept his eyes on the back of their head all the way through the crowd, and sure, he might have lost track of them once or twice, but he knows this is them—isn't it?

"look, i don't want to start anything." he clears his throat. "just give me my wallet back and i won't make a big deal about it. in ten minutes i won't even remember your face."

[ — ... ]

yubin folded her arms. she wasn't a girl who was big on stuffies. it wasn't that there was anything wrong with girls that were, it was just not something she loved. but there was something in saein's eyes that almost begged for her to say yes. so she looked up at her dad and sighed after her dad gave her the same look. "don't lie to me dad. you can get me one uncle. ummm" she stated looking over the possibilitieshard-to-get. just as she was about to give up she pointed at the cute but hard to get frog. "that one!" hyunbin just kept his eyes on the pair. it was just funny to him how they interacted. and how smart yubin was. he worried about how much she was holding in. "is anyone hungry? while you two try to win one of those i can find us food?" he stated just as his stomach began to rumble. "right on queue."

[ to: @gnhyunbin ]

"yeah, don't lie to her, hyung," saein parroted, peering into the glass for her choice. of course it had to be the frog wedged between a duck's wing and a bear's leg; if that was a tactical ploy to avoid going home with one of them, then she was even smarter than he thought.

he looked back at the sound of hyunbin's stomach rumbling, a small grin tugging at his mouth. "i can watch her if you want to get something to eat. if you can find me a hotteok, i'll win you one of these too. what do you think he'd like?" he turned the question to yubin as he fed the machine enough money for a couple of tries. the lights blinked happily as it was fed, cranking out bright, tinny music.

the first try was a bust. the frog was upside down and he aimed for the crevice between its body and its little arm, but the claws just slid harmlessly over its soft back before retracting with the cheerful sound of failure.

"so how have you two been, huh?" he asked her as the machine reset itself for another try. he stepped aside and motioned for yubin to give it a try too, casting a look around the area to make sure hyunbin didn't go too far. "anything exciting happen while i was gone?"

[ - ... ]

he can't look at him again, only down, to the way he only desperately wishes to close the distance between them, to hear him speak his name out loud. asks the mountain for just this, because for them to be separated for so long only to endure moments apart in such proximity, it burns him even brighter, aches even deeper. has him lingering behind his parents, an exhale, fingers reaching. a bridge, one he'd been hoping to make all of these years, every time he read saein writing about him to someone who wasn't him, writing to someone else even though haedam tucked them all away, greedy for memory, for comfort in that warmth. for the mountain to please forgive him, please forgive him.

[ to: @gnhaedam ]

saein watches the couple with envy. even subconsciously they seem to gravitate to each other, the soft angles of their bodies giving way to the other. saein finds himself clasping his own hands together as he watches them, a poor mimicry of how it must feel to be filled so wholly in all of those empty gaps and crevices. how did it feel to walk so easily, not on glass and not on eggshells? how did it feel to know that there was something warmer than a net to catch them if they fell? a hand, a body. he's led to the table and he almost touches haedam before their paths diverge again, him to one side of the table and haedam to the other.

but haedam had looked at him. there, saein saw everything he needed to hear.

there was a trick that the magicians especially liked to perform: a disappearing act that culminated in him stepping into an ornate wardrobe, only to slip behind the false backing just before the magician unlatched the doors to reveal his disappearance. for the audience, the trick ended there, but any time he found himself playing the part of the vanishing rabbit, it meant an unbearable amount of time pressed into that small crevice, listening to the hard pound of his heart until the show ended properly.

he should have known that by coming to this event, he had simply walked into another box. step in — his mother ushers him to his seat — latch the doors — she squeezes his shoulder in warning — unveil the trick — he takes his seat, and he disappears before their very eyes.

he lowers his gaze to his plate as they are served. breathe in, out. yes, he's been here before, with their disappointment like walls closing in. don't look. don't think about it. except it isn't a perfect analogy after all, because haedam had looked, too. because of haedam's eyes. it isn't the same because he isn't alone, and because when he looks up, haedam is there with him.

saein breathes in. out. lets the quiet fact of haedam's presence soothe his nerves.

he is here with him.

he was led back here for a reason.

the direction comes from a note. the piece of paper had come at the end of the reception, passed by a hand that he never saw.

EUN FACTORY. MIDNIGHT.

the red ink is striking. even without a name, he knows it's for him, and the clouds of uncertainty part for a brief moment of clarity. a new purpose, just for the night.

hours later, he climbs out the window of his new apartment and down the fire escape. it's delicate work to keep the metal rungs quiet --- which he must do, the whispering voice reminds him. this again, it says. the mountain can still see your disobedience. saein murmurs a prayer that he learned from haedam before he jumps the rest of the way. he lands on both feet, bag and lantern thumping dully against his hip, and wastes no time stealing across bomul, whispers and weeping moans of disappointment trailing behind him.

DEAR SECRET, I'VE COME LIKE IT ASKED, BUT I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT WANTS FROM ME.

he twists his bracelet hard. "stop it. stop it."

shivering, he runs for the dilapidated fence that surrounded eun factory. the old cutaway in the back was still there, perhaps now a tighter fit for him, but he simply pulls his hood over his hair and hikes up his clothes before squeezing through. it's only when he's sufficiently covered by the factory and the forest behind him that he finally allows himself to catch his breath, like he had never stopped running from the moment he left his troupe. sometimes, he thinks it's exactly that.

"haedam?" he whispers, feeling along the back of the factory tentatively. "are you here?"

[ - ... ]

that voice.. it couldn't be. could it?....wh-why was he? she hadn't heard that he was back in town. how was she supposed to explain this? haerin died years before she moved into town. she had to think of something. and quick. "uh. its none of your concern" she stated trying to disguise her voice, fixing her outfit, and turning her back to saein hoping he didn't recognize anything about her.

[ to: @gneunbi ] / TW. themes of death

for all of the time he has spent in the cemetery, saein felt more ghostly than anything that might have been lingering there. quietly walking through the aisles, pausing to kneel and clear the leaves away from the graves, he would read the names inscribed in stone and ask the things he was too afraid to ask the living.

DEAR SECRET, TODAY I LEARNED HOW TO FALL INTO A GLASS CAGE OF WATER. IT'S JUST A LEAP OF FAITH, EUNHA SAYS. SOMEONE WILL BE WAITING FOR ME TO ARRIVE AT THE BOTTOM AND BRING ME OUT, WRAP ME UP FROM THE COLD. IT FELT LIKE LANDING IN ICE. IT WAS DARK AND FREEZING, AND FOR THE FIRST FEW MOMENTS THAT I SANK, I THOUGHT I SAW HAERIN AGAIN. I THINK, WHEN THEY BROUGHT ME OUT, THAT I WAS CRYING.

if there were such things as ghosts, then he thought he was walking proof of it, haunting the last place he'd seen her with the same plea: why? why? why?

he returns, as all good ghosts do. of course he comes to see her again. he doesn't need to follow a voice to this part of the mountain; he had been coming here for a long time, and he still knows every stone like the back of his hand, every tree no matter the new age-lines in their bark. he used to think that this was god, these hollows in the tree trunks like unblinking eyes and these gnarled limbs that hang over the path to the cemetery, like arms trying to gather him close to its chest—to soothe, to calm, because if there was a god then he wanted it to be warm. he wanted it to walk with him up the mountain, holding his hand.

DEAR SECRET, FIRST DAY OF AUTUMN. I KEEP WONDERING IF THERE IS STILL SOMEONE BACK HOME TO CLEAN THE LEAVES FROM HER NAME.

he walks in on an answer today: perhaps there was.

saein looks at this stranger in front of haerin’s name with something that borders on hostility. "who are you?"

he has seen others here, of course. he's seen her parents, he's seen that siwoo. but something about this one's demeanor, their stiff voice, the way they instantly turn their back on him—

"you're here for her?" he puts himself next to them, glancing over haerin’s gravestone for any signs of tampering. i'm sorry, he tells her. i'm sorry i haven't been here. now strangers think they can just come and look at you. he kneels wordlessly to brush the leaves away from her name, coldly regarding the stranger at his side. "i've never seen you here before."

[ — ... ]

the air buzzes with laughter, music, and the delicious aroma of street food and carnival sweets. amidst the colorful stalls and spinning rides, minsi is on the sidelines, a basket of treats in hand. her eyes agleam as she spots pet owners passing by, their furry companions in tow. with a warm smile, she gestures towards the goodies in her bin, offering a snack for their four-legged friends. "hey--- hey there! treats for your little ones?" she calls out, enthusiasm evident. the scent around her basket tempting the furry festival attendees with doggy-friendly delights. her kindness is not limited to just the pampered pets, she's lingering near the outskirts for a reason, to spread care to the stray cats (and pups!) pawing around the trash for a free meal. undeterred, she kneels down, gently singing a sweet tune to coax the feline wanderers closer. in her other hand, she holds cans of cat food, a gesture of goodwill she hopes will aid in luring them near. as each approached, she'd attempt to pet them and take mental note of ease for when she returned later to attempt capture of the critters for a spay or neuter. as the carnival music plays in the background, the woman's dual mission unfolds.

[ to: @gnminsi ]

the stray is small, with fur the color of toffee and growing long enough around its mane to obscure its eyes. it must be why it barrelled into his legs, where he had been standing and staring at the entrance to the fairgrounds until it interrupted.

"i'm sorry," saein tells it.

the stray just trots away a few steps before deigning to look back. saein meets its intent gaze curiously. then his eyes travel higher, to the shadowy peaks of the mountain in the distance, and he thinks, oh, of course. it's trying to lead him.

"where are we going?" he says, but the dog is already off. feeling sensible, saein follows.

it leads him through the outskirts of the carnival, where the crowds are thinner and the music sounds a little muffled. saein ducks through a few stalls, murmuring excuse me's as he squeezes past tables of food and toys. everything smells amazing here, and yet the stray doesn't seem to notice at all, darting single-mindedly towards a specific stall and a specific, familiar face.

"minsi?" saein catches her mid-call, spotting what looks like a bin of pet treats in her hands. oh, he thinks again, the stray must have picked up on the treats somehow, which is funny. hadn't he been like one of these strays once, ending up on her property and sheepishly accepting her help for the night? but he distinctly remembers the year she went off for training, if only for his firm belief back then that if anyone could've made it out of gaenari, it would have been lee minsi.

maybe something called her back too?

the stray yips by his ankles, trying to sniff at minsi's bin even though those look like cat treats. saein crouches down to give it a pat, but looks up at minsi curiously. "i didn't know you were in town. are you just visiting?"

[ —... ]

     "sure!" he answers right away, taking the pen before it could roll somewhere else in the train. taesung knows that technically he isn't far away enough that he's forced to stand up to return the pen, but he does anyway; might as well take this opportunity to interact with notebook boy. "there you go." he offers the little writing tool back. "actually is it ok if i sit by your side?" taesung also asks, a friendly smile on his lips even if his question is a little abrupt and the request that follows it a little shameless and a little untrue. "i'm trying to decide which picture of my cat is the cutest to use as my icon in kakaotalk and i need a second opinion and—" taesung's smile softens at the edges, not out of pity but maybe sympathy? or maybe it's because he always gets a little softer whenever gureum is involved and/or mentioned even in the lightest of the ways. "you sort of look like you need a couple of cute cat pictures." he adds, obviously being unable to keep his mouth shut and thoughts to himself.

[ to: @gntaesung ]

sure. saein doesn't expect that bright answer, much less the request to sit together. but by then, the pen's already in his hand, and there's an anxious voice in the back of his head insisting, it's too late, look, you're already indirectly connected.

"your cat...?" his hand tenses on the back of the seat. some bone-deep fight or flight instinct kicks in and he glances around the train car, eyes catching on the door ahead (run down the aisle, grab the emergency lever, throw yourself out the doors while the train's still moving slow enough just to give a few cuts and scrapes) before rational thought catches up to him and he forces himself to relax.

"what does that even mean? what do i look like?" he narrows his eyes at the stranger, to make sure they know he's watching them. he does shift back though, making enough room for a second body in the seats he's in — he regrets that there's no normal way to tell them to shuffle into the window seat instead, but it's fine, because if there's one thing he is good at, it's escape routes (throw yourself over the seat, throw yourself into the aisle, throw yourself out of the train—)

or they could be perfectly plain and harmless. saein presses his lips together decisively. "sure."

he gathers all of his things into his lap, trying to ignore the backup plans that keep springing up noisily in the back of his head. shut up. there's nothing to run from. he has cats. it was like trying to reason with a neurotic animal sometimes, dangling promises like he's got cat pictures to get it to be quiet.

he peers around tentatively for a phone screen. "what kind of cat is it?"

[ to: @gnhyunbin ]

"don't tell me you're too old for stuffies now."

saein waves a juice bag in front of lee hyunbin's daughter as he slips out some change for the claw machine. it's one of those big ones, teeming with massive stuffed ducks and rabbits with their black marble eyes and cartoonish blots of blush, and he'd already made up his mind that he'd get her one of them. what kid wouldn't want an irrationally large, soft, moony stuffed animal? he remembers being ten too, gawking bug-eyed at the toy shop windows and hoping his parents would turn back, notice him, and say, oh, do you want that one, baby?, unable to ask for a lot of things like that because it just wasn't what good, mature kids did.

he remembers hyunbin, younger yet standing with his shoulders straight under that strain of all that maturity, and figures that he must know a thing about it too. saein used to have to drag him out to loosen up a little, after all. sometimes the only way to get something you wanted—really wanted but couldn't say—was for someone else to pry your hand open, take the choice out of it, and put the thing there themselves, to save you the face of asking.

or maybe hyunbin's daughter really just doesn't want a stuffed animal. but he'll see about that.

"which one do you want? i'll get it for you." saein flashes her a secret grin, as if hyunbin can't see the exchange happening in front of him. "i'm sure your dad had at least one when he was your age, didn't you? tell her." he nudges hyunbin to agree even, even if he didn't—his daughter's entire carnival experience is at stake here.

[ to: @gnsohee ]

there was something lurking in the pens.

not the horses, which saein knows are in there, of course. not the attendants, who had left quite some time ago to tend the betting pools for the race. it was something dark and something fast, and saein thinks he saw it smiling at him through the slits of the fence, like they were sharing this as a secret.

he tried to shake it off — forced himself to turn around, walk away a few paces. get it together. his wrist's rubbed raw from clenching his bracelet tight. you've left all of that behind. let it stay there. but his mind insists on circling back like a moon bound to its orbit, and it doesn't take long for him to give in and make his way back to the corrals, intent on taking a look for himself: peer under the proverbial bed, open the closet, shine the light into the dark, because seeing is believing and once he sees no one but those horses nickering peacefully to themselves, then the compulsion will be satisfied, and then he'll be able to walk away.

but this time there's someone else in his path.

he's struck with a sense of familiarity as soon as he catches sight of their face. it's enough to faze him for a few seconds, staring dumbly at their features, but his mind can't come up with a name and there are more important things, like the sudden rush of hope that they might've seen it too. "hey." he normally isn't this rude. but his eyes are wide, intent, as he points to the stolid fences where they're keeping the horses. "did you see something around here too? some kind of— small animal, maybe?" white eyes, white teeth. white smile. "earlier, i think i saw it go into those horse pens."

This is my first rodeo actually. What do you call this one? "Horse" huh? Fascinating

hello dash ! i'd love to get some event threads going, so if anyone else is interested, like this post for a short & sweet starter from saein! if we haven't plotted yet, i'll come ask if we can just assume connections or start with a new meeting. alternatively, i have some mini ideas below the cut, so lmk if you'd like to do any of them (some are a bit spooky inspired bc november is just an extension of halloween for me tbh):

muse wants to try one of the rides but is intimidated, so saein offers to ride with them, assuming that his time as a circus performer has made him tanky enough for all of them.

saein saw something go inside where they're keeping the horses for the races. does muse want to sneak in and investigate with him?

in the search for some bathrooms, they end up wandering a good distance away from the carnival, but it's getting dark now. and maybe that's the silhouette of somebody watching them in the distance.

one of the face painting stands has been left unattended, so saein insists he gives muse a makeover. muse can even return the favor when he's done.

they're seated together on the viking ship, where saein chats their ear away, seemingly unaffected by the whole ride while muse...isn't doing so well, to put it lightly, and needs some help walking it off afterwards.

in between some claw machines is a reflective wall of glass. saein has been standing there for several minutes, staring at something in the mirror. does muse see it too?

saein bumps into muse, looking frantic and anxious to get away. he claims he saw a face that he recognizes, someone who he thinks has followed him here from his old troupe, and he's convinced that he and muse have to do everything to lose them in the crowd.

[ — … ]

Like a deer caught in the headlights, she confusedly points at herself, "Me?" Then, with a pout and a shake of her head, "Nope, never met her even." Haeyang decidedly ignores the inconvenient coincidence that Jiwoo quit the job a mere week before she started; after all, it had absolutely nothing to do with her. "Why, looking for her?"

[ to: @gnhaeyang ]

strange airs. he spent the last half decade surrounded by strangers, so by all accounts this one should just be another face in the sea, but it's jarring against the backdrop of the bakery and sends a rare wave of protectiveness over him. gaenari might have never really been home, but he did once call it his, and he's uneasy to see a place like the cakery in new hands.

"oh. i see." he fights off his disappointment. maybe jiwoo got out too, went off somewhere better --- hopefully, she would stay there. he can understand why that would happen, yes, but just like with every other unfamiliar face he's seen, he can't come up with a reason why someone would willingly drop anchor in this town.

"i just wanted to give her back something i borrowed a few years ago, but...i guess it can wait a few more." and if they had never met, he supposes that she wouldn't know whether jiwoo's still around at all, but he also can't help noticing the easy, daydreaming gleam in her eye. she looks comfortable, like she belongs here, like she might have always been here and he just never noticed, and he finds himself envying it. how long had he waited to feel that way despite being born just on the other side of town?

"could i get a coffee, then? i think i need something with an extra kick." he rubs at his eyes, trying to shut that whole can of worms before he makes a mess of his day, and fumbles to get his wallet out. it looks like they're still in the quiet lull before the friday night rush, thank god. "so how long've you been working here for? is the old owner still kicking?"

[ to: @gntaesung ]

the whole affair of getting to daehan is a lot slower than saein remembers. it feels like the sky's been suspended mid-sunset since he got on his stop, with the sky only now beginning to lose light.

he'd forgotten how clear it could get in gaenari. it's been so long since he's been able to look up and see the sky without smoke or ribbons that it looks a little unreal tonight. tipping his head against the misty window, he watches the first few stars appear, while the train finishes its last stops in gaenari before heading to daehan.

the stars don't move much, of course. so big and so distant, they look more like permanent fixtures in the sky, reminding him of the ceiling fan in his childhood bedroom always just there, always just spinning. his hand lulls on a fresh page of his notebook; there was something he'd wanted to write about, something about this day that slouched heavily onto him like a passenger asleep at his shoulder, but one look at the stars and there came that distant hopelessness again. if he could ride the train somewhere that far too—ensure that the journey was long, neverending, so that he'd turn to dust long before he ever actually got there, maybe that would wear down this strange anxiousness of what it would mean to arrive somewhere.

the train stops again. dips, sways under his feet. in the corner of his eyes, shapes pass by, mostly of people getting off; the train cars always emptied after rush hour.

but then, to his surprise, he hears a voice boarding from the front.

were they...greeting people? saein watches the unmistakable shape of a passenger coming down the aisle — someone else is heading to daehan this late? — but when they come close enough and he gets a better look at their unfamiliar face, and all of that ink, he quickly diverts his eyes.

yes, first impressions aren't always everything. but yes, he's also been mugged for saying hi to the wrong person before.

he dips his head awkwardly with a wave when they pass his seat, ducking low into his notebook and pretending to write with intent. yeah, he can do this for the rest of the ride.

DEAR SECRET, I DON'T KNOW HOW TO FEEL ABOUT BEING ON THIS TRAIN AGAIN. I WONDER IFaaaaa bbb cccc wwwwwwww

but it's not long before the train jolts again and this time the momentum slides him forward and off his folded leg, sending his notebook to the floor. "shit." saein makes a grab for his pen too, but it just wobbles mockingly out of his reach before rolling entirely out of sight.

twisting around, he manages to spot it, and to his horror it's barrelling right for the last passenger's feet. "oh, god— hi, my pen's right there, would you mind grabbing it?"

[ to: @gnhaeyang ]

so the homemade cakery is still standing.

it's older now, with more colors that weren't there before, but it's still there, and the sight of it stops saein on his way past. of course it's still standing — he used to think that its owner could outlast anyone in gaenari, even the day's latest newborns — but he must have called on the memory of it so often that his mind, somewhere along the way, forgot that it was still a real place in the world, a place that other people never stopped visiting even though he did.

there are new faces now. it's odd to think that they would know this place as well as he used to, if not more.

six years ago, he couldn't have gotten past the entrance without a side eye from someone on the other side of the counter; he'd had a reputation here, loitering too long in the corner tables without buying enough to justify the time he spent there, and it had become instinct to brace himself every time he walked through those doors. he still does it now—half sneaks in, like he's committing a crime just stepping foot in here, but he makes it three steps inside and doesn't feel any nasty looks over the counter.

saein stops, untenses. he glances skeptically at the cashier, wracking his memory for a name.

DEAR SECRET, I RECOGNIZE EVERYTHING IN THE WAY THAT IS UNSETTLING: THAT SOMETHING HAS CHANGED RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME AND I SHOULD NOTICE. I'VE BEEN CONFUSING FACES. I WANT TO REMEMBER THEM SO BADLY THAT I THINK MY MIND HAS STARTED MAKING UP MEMORIES FOR THEM TO BELONG TO.

nothing rings a bell. are they new here too?

"hey—" he stops short of the counter, sparing a glance at the displays that have changed too, before he addresses the cashier awkwardly. "does jeon jiwoo not work here anymore? she's about your height," he holds a hand up to their eye level, "brown hair, feels like she could stare lazers through you? i used to see her at the counter every day."