Running to You | Park Han + JL + Steven | Haneulz + Stejay AU

Chapter 68: Back to the Fold

The track lights buzzed above them, pale against the darkening sky. JL was stretching on the grass, still a little damp with sweat. Jeongwoo sat beside him, shaking his head into a towel, uncharacteristically quiet. He had been at the hurdles, staying late past the others, and now it was only the two of them.

"Do you think," JL said finally, "that Han even remembers half the things he says when he's drunk?"

Jeongwoo smiled faintly. "Probably not. But the things he says? He feels them. That part's real."

JL looked away, throat working.

Jeongwoo hesitated, then said, "Can I tell you something about Han?"

JL glanced back.

Jeongwoo rested his arms on his knees. "When we were kids -- before all this glory crap -- Han used to beg us to come over after school. Like, beg. He always said it was because his house was near the gym, or had better snacks. But it wasn't that. He just hated being alone."

A small smile tugged at his mouth. "He was clingy back then. The sweet kind. Would hold onto your sleeve so you wouldn't leave too fast, or ask if we could all sleep over, even on school nights. Just... wanted to be around someone. Anyone."

JL didn't respond, but the ache in his chest deepened -- suddenly seeing that same boy, still there beneath all the polish, the pride, the fight.

Jeongwoo's voice softened. "His parents... they weren't cruel. They just weren't there. Not really. They split up early -- had their own lives, their own families -- and Han was sort of... left between them. Like he didn't quite belong to either side. They scheduled his birthdays from a distance. Missed every school play, every meet. Even now, I'm not sure they know where he actually lives."

JL's throat worked, but no words came. Han, mumbling, drunk. "Like the dorm... better."

"He was alone," Jeongwoo continued, quieter now. "Like, alone alone. Holidays. Summers. Winters. His housekeeper used to leave packed meals in the fridge labeled by the day, and that was it."

A flash of memory cut through JL then -- sharp and clear.

 "Grew up with a nanny. Learned to cook because I didn't like waiting. Ran because it was too quiet. Competed because I liked winning."

"I don't talk about it much," Han had added.

 A shared earbud on a trip to the mountains, one of their earliest conversations. It felt so long ago now. 

JL hadn't thought much of it at the time. Thought it was just rich-kid ennui, Han trying to relate to his musings about not fitting in. But now, the image of that memory hit differently. He saw the outline more clearly: a boy eating dinner alone at a table built for ten. A boy training at a machine, so he didn't need to listen to the silence in his house.

JL's fingers curled slightly in his lap.

He'd known Han was disciplined. Intense. A perfectionist.

He hadn't realized Han was lonely.

Not really.

Not like that.

JL's brow furrowed.

"You know what Han did when he got into KNSU?" Jeongwoo continued. "He called each of us. Said, 'You're going with me.' Just like that. No question. No room to argue."

JL looked down, processing. The silence pressed in like humidity.

"Back then?" Jeongwoo let out a breathy laugh. "I was still figuring out what I even wanted. Some scout picked me up at a bus stop because of my face, told me I should act. I didn't have a plan -- I barely had direction. And Chih En? Worse. He was a ghost. Buried in books. Wouldn't talk unless you asked him for a calculus formula."