The days after the raid passed in a haze of exhaustion. The aftermath of their actions rippled through the lower city, whispers echoing among the broken streets.
Seo-jin woke slowly, sunlight filtering weakly through the cracked window. For once, he felt peaceful, warm, safe. Then he realized why.
Min-ji lay next to him, breathing softly, her fiery hair spilling over her face in a tangled mess. He couldn't recall exactly when she'd fallen asleep beside him, but he found he didn't mind.
Carefully, he shifted slightly, careful not to wake her.
"Don't move," Min-ji mumbled sleepily, one eye cracking open.
Seo-jin froze. "I was trying not to wake you."
She smiled lazily, stretching slightly but making no move to leave. "Too late. I'm awake."
He lay back, staring up at the crumbling ceiling. They lay silently for a moment, comfortable silence settling over them like a soft blanket.
"You ever wish things were different?" Min-ji asked suddenly, her voice quiet, thoughtful.
Seo-jin glanced over, studying her profile carefully. She looked different in this softer morning light—less fierce, more vulnerable.
"All the time," he admitted gently.
She turned slightly, resting her cheek on her palm as she faced him. "What would you do, if the fragments never appeared?"
Seo-jin considered her question carefully. "Honestly? I never thought about it. Survival took everything else away."
Min-ji's expression softened further. "I think about it too much. I imagine places far away, cities untouched, somewhere clean, somewhere safe. Stupid, right?"
"No," Seo-jin said gently. "It's human."
She blinked at him, eyes suddenly suspiciously bright. "Well, humanity sucks."
"Maybe," he whispered, reaching out slowly to brush hair from her face. "But sometimes it has its moments."
Min-ji's lips parted slightly in surprise at the tenderness of his gesture. Then she smiled softly, genuine and fragile.
"Careful," she teased softly, recovering quickly. "People might think you're losing your edge."
He chuckled softly, pulling his hand away reluctantly. "We wouldn't want that."
"No," she whispered, still smiling. "Definitely not."
**
They eventually rose, reluctantly breaking the quiet intimacy of morning. Lotus bustled around them as they stepped into the main hall, the noise and chaos familiar yet comforting.
Ko spotted them immediately, eyes narrowing slightly. "Good to see you two finally decided to join the living."
Min-ji rolled her eyes dramatically. "Don't worry, big guy, you didn't miss anything exciting."
Ko grunted, looking them both over slowly, expression inscrutable. "Things are quiet. Enjoy it."
"Is that an order?" Seo-jin asked dryly.
"It's a suggestion," Ko muttered, turning away abruptly, though Seo-jin caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
Seo-jin and Min-ji exchanged amused glances as Ko stomped off.
"You think he's worried about us?" Min-ji asked lightly.
Seo-jin shrugged slightly. "Maybe."
She snorted. "Cute."
**
The day passed quietly, offering rare moments of calm. They wandered the lower city, shoulders brushing occasionally, silence easy between them.
As twilight fell, they stopped near an old plaza, remnants of an abandoned marketplace echoing softly in the breeze. Seo-jin paused, looking around slowly, fragments of memories ghosting across his thoughts.
Min-ji watched him closely. "What's on your mind?"
He hesitated slightly before answering. "This place… it reminds me of before."
"Before fragments?" she asked softly.
He nodded slowly. "When I was very young. There was a market here, people laughing, trading, fighting…normal."
"Normal," she repeated softly, almost reverently. "It seems like another life."
"Yeah," Seo-jin whispered. "One I barely remember."
She stepped closer, the warmth of her presence a quiet comfort. "Do you think we can ever get back to normal?"
He shook his head gently. "No. But maybe we can find something else. Something better."
"Optimist," she teased gently.
He smiled faintly. "Only around you."
Min-ji laughed quietly, warmth softening her expression. "Flattery?"
"Truth."
She leaned closer, shoulder brushing his gently. "I could get used to this side of you."
"Don't," he whispered, though his smile was gentle. "It probably won't last."
"I know," she replied softly. "But I'll take it while it does."
**
Later, back at Lotus, the main hall was quiet, most of the others asleep or out scavenging. Seo-jin sat alone, staring at the broken window, lost in thought.
Ha-eun approached quietly, settling across from him, her expression gentle.
"You're changing," she said quietly. "I see it."
Seo-jin glanced up slowly. "Is that good or bad?"
She smiled faintly. "Neither. Both."
He looked away slowly, thoughtful. "Min-ji…"
Ha-eun nodded understandingly. "She's good for you."
"Maybe," Seo-jin admitted softly, something tight loosening slightly in his chest. "She's…"
"Dangerous?" Ha-eun supplied lightly.
He chuckled softly, nodding once. "Yes."
She smiled knowingly. "Good. You need that."
He laughed quietly, surprised at her approval. "You're not worried?"
Ha-eun's expression softened further. "Always. But less about you now."
He sighed quietly. "Thanks, Ha-eun."
She stood slowly, squeezing his shoulder gently as she passed. "Always."
**
Night came again, stars distant and faint above them as Seo-jin found Min-ji on the rooftop once more.
She glanced up as he approached, expression unreadable in the dim light. "Couldn't sleep?"
"No," he admitted quietly, sitting carefully beside her. "You?"
She shrugged slightly. "Same."
Silence stretched between them, comfortable and familiar now. Seo-jin eventually broke it softly.
"What happens next?"
She glanced sideways at him, eyes thoughtful. "More fighting. More surviving."
"Always?"
"Probably," she admitted gently.
He nodded slowly, staring upward. "Does it bother you?"
"Not as much as I thought it would," she whispered. "Not when I'm with you."
He glanced sharply toward her, something warm tightening softly in his chest. "Really?"
She smiled faintly, vulnerable again in that rare, gentle way only he seemed able to draw from her. "Yes."
Seo-jin's throat tightened slightly, words failing him. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached for her hand, threading their fingers gently together.
Min-ji's breath hitched softly, but she didn't pull away. She leaned her head gently against his shoulder, eyes closing briefly.
He squeezed her hand gently, reassuringly, silently.
No promises.
No grand declarations.
Just a simple, real moment beneath fractured skies.
Tomorrow would come soon enough. But tonight—
Tonight was theirs.
And it was enough.