When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

(S02) Chapter 33

Leaning against the stone wall just outside the building, hands tucked into the pockets of his black slacks, head slightly bowed. He looked up the moment he heard my footsteps.

His eyes met mine-not searching, not accusing, just... waiting.

He didn't say anything at first. He just stood there, taking me in like I was a storm he had already decided to walk through.

When I stopped in front of him, he exhaled softly. "You've been out here too long."

"I needed air," I said, my voice rough. "Inside feels like a coffin."

He nodded, like he understood exactly what I meant. Then he slipped off his coat without a word and draped it around my shoulders. Warmth clung to the inside of it-his warmth. It smelled like him too, faint and clean, like cedar and the last bits of summer.

"I'm fine," I said, but I didn't shrug it off.

He didn't answer that. Instead, he stepped beside me, just close enough that our shoulders brushed, and looked out at the empty road.

"I feel like I pushed her to this."

His jaw tightened, just slightly. "You didn't."

"You don't know that."

"I do." His voice was firmer now. "I know you. Stop blaming yourself before anything is confirmed".

I looked at him then, and for a second, I hated how easy he made it look-believing in me like it was the simplest thing in the world.

My throat felt tight. "This... this is going to get worse, Han Wool."

"I know."

"I don't think I can take it."

"Yes, you can." He reached out and took my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "And you don't have to take it alone."

I stared at our joined hands. His was warm. Steady. The only thing lately that didn't feel like it might break apart in the wind.

"You shouldn't be seen with me," I said, bitter. "You're her fiancé."

"No, I'm not," he said quietly. "I was trapped in something I didn't choose. That wasn't love."

I didn't say anything.

He didn't press.

He just stood there, holding my hand, watching the wind sweep leaves across the pavement like the world hadn't cracked open only hours ago.

Finally, I whispered, "She sent me a text. Right before."

He looked over sharply.

"Said I ruined her life. That she'd never forgive me."

His grip tightened just a little, grounding me. "That wasn't fair."

"I don't know what to do with that."

"You don't have to do anything with it right now." His voice softened again. "You're allowed to just... breathe."

And then, without asking, he pulled me into him.

It wasn't dramatic. No sweeping music. No tearful confessions.

Just his arms around me, quiet and warm, like a promise:

I've got you.

I didn't cry.

Not because I didn't feel anything-but because if I did, I was afraid I wouldn't stop.

So I let him hold me. Just for a moment. Just until the ache in my chest didn't feel like it was splitting me in half.

Then I pulled back gently.