When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

(S02) Chapter 34

I didn’t know how long we sat there.

The city moved around us—cars rolling by with their headlights smeared like brushstrokes in the dark, people laughing somewhere down the street, the occasional thrum of music leaking from someone’s window. But where we were, it felt still. Quiet. A space carved out of the chaos.

I held the can between both hands, letting the warmth sink in through my fingers. Tae Sung hadn’t said anything in a while, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable. He just sat beside me, sipping his own drink like this—being here—was enough.

Eventually, I glanced over at him. His profile was lit by the soft orange light from the store sign above us, and for the first time in days, something inside me eased. Just a little.

“I’m sorry,” I said, so quietly I wasn’t sure he’d hear it.

He looked at me. “For what?”

“I don’t know. For being like this, I guess.”

“You’re not ‘being’ anything. You’re… grieving. Processing. That’s allowed.”

I looked away. “I just—I feel like if I let go, I’ll break.”

Tae Sung didn’t say anything right away. Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and said gently, “Then don’t let go. Not yet. Just lean. On me. On your friends. That’s what we’re here for.”

My eyes stung again, but this time I blinked quickly and held the tears back.

“Have you eaten?” he asked suddenly, shifting the mood. “Or are you surviving off hospital coffee and vending machine crackers again?”

“…Both.”

“Tragic.” He stood up, dusting off his coat. “Come on. I’ll get you something real. Something greasy and unwise.”

I stared at him. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

He shrugged. “Because someone should be.”

And that… was enough to make the tears slip out before I could stop them. Not sobs. Just silent tears, sliding down my cheeks in the cold.

Tae Sung noticed. Of course he did. But he didn’t panic, didn’t make a scene. He stepped closer and pulled out a small packet of tissues from his coat pocket, holding one out without a word.

I took it, wiped my face quietly.

Then he said, “You don’t have to talk. But when you’re ready… I’ll be here. Even if I suck at jokes.”

A faint, crooked smile tugged at my lips.

It didn’t last long.

The weight returned as soon as I remembered where I was, what had happened, what I’d lost—and what I still couldn’t admit to anyone. My chest felt tight, like grief had made a home inside my ribs.

“I… I don’t think I can eat right now,” I murmured, looking down at the warm can of tea in my hands. “I appreciate it, really. But I’m just… not there yet.”

Tae Sung didn’t argue. He just nodded, quiet and understanding, as always.

“I should get back,” I added, standing up. “I’ve got another duty.”

“Ye Na…”

“I know,” I said, already taking a step away. “But this is how I stay standing right now. If I stop moving, I’ll fall apart.”

He didn’t stop me. Maybe he knew he couldn’t. Maybe he understood.

“Thanks,” I said, offering him the softest glance over my shoulder. “For the tea. For… this.”