When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

(S02) Chapter 34

Footsteps. Slow, measured. The kind that didn’t rush, didn’t hesitate. I didn’t lift my head—my eyes were still burning—but something about the familiarity in the steps made my heart skip.

Then a soft voice.

“I heard.”

I looked up.

Tae Sung stood there in his scrubs, his tall frame casting a long shadow against the fluorescent-lit floor. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—those calm, grounded eyes—

Then came a familiar voice, low and careful.

“Ye Na.”

I slowly looked up. Tae Sung was standing a few feet away, his usual calm presence like a gentle current against the chaos swirling inside me. He didn’t step closer immediately. Just waited.

“I heard,” he said, voice softer now. “About your cousin. Seok Kyung told me.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. There were no words for the weight inside my chest.

He finally approached, crouching down beside me on the cold floor. “I’m really sorry. I can’t imagine how hard it must be… losing someone like that. You must be… devastated.”

My throat burned. I bit the inside of my cheek and looked away, blinking fast.

Tae Sung didn't pressure me. He didn’t ask questions. He just sat there, not too close, not too far, giving me space but making it clear he wasn’t going anywhere.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said. “I just didn’t want you to sit here alone.”

A pause passed between us, heavy but comforting.

Silence...

“Come on,” he said gently, standing up and offering his hand. “Let’s get some air. A little walk. A drink. You need something warm. And preferably not from the vending machine on floor three—it’s pure regret in a can.”

I hesitated. My whole body felt like stone. But I took his hand.

We didn’t talk much on the way. Just walked out of the hospital into the crisp evening air. He led me down the street to a quiet corner store and came back with two warm canned drinks. He handed me a corn tea without asking.

He handed me the corn tea like it was a peace offering. I took it without a word.

We sat outside the little convenience store, under the dim yellow glow of the sign above us. The street was mostly quiet—just the occasional car passing by and the low hum of a vending machine nearby.

He opened his can and took a long sip. “This tastes like regret. But the warm kind.”

I finally opened mine and took a small sip. The warmth spread slowly through my hands, into my chest. I still felt hollow, but a little less cold.

“Seok Kyung said you’ve been quiet,” he said gently. “Quieter than usual.”

“I’m fine,” I murmured, because what else was I supposed to say?

He nodded, like he didn’t believe it but wouldn’t challenge me on it.

We sat in silence again. This time, it didn’t feel so heavy.

And when he leaned back against the wall and muttered, “Still not sure if corn tea is just soup pretending to be a drink,” I finally, finally let out the smallest breath of a laugh.

It was barely anything. A puff of air.

But it was something.

And he smiled—soft, real, and proud.