"We're going to the amusement park."
"Wait what!?"
The moment we stepped into the amusement park, my chest tightened. Bright colors, blaring music, laughter echoing from every direction—it felt like the world was pressing down on me. My hands curled into fists instinctively.
"Hey," Jihwa said softly, brushing against mine. "We're together. I won't let anything happen to you."
His voice cut through the noise, and I realized I could breathe, at least a little.
"I… okay," I whispered.
He smiled, that steady, familiar smile that had always made something twist in my chest. It calmed me, even as panic lingered beneath the surface.
We started walking, dodging strollers, families, and screaming children. The sheer normalcy of the crowd should have been comforting, but for me, it was almost unbearable. Yet, I clung to Jihwa, letting his presence anchor me.
Cotton Candy and Small Joys
We passed a snack stand, the scent of sugar and fried food making my stomach twist in a strange mix of curiosity and discomfort.
Jihwa bought a small cotton candy and offered it to me. "Want some?"
I hesitated. "I… maybe later?"
"That's fine," he said, tilting his head and smiling gently. "No pressure."
We wandered slowly, taking in the bright lights and colors. I hadn't experienced something so ordinary in years. The smells, the warmth, the simple sweetness of cotton candy—it was oddly comforting.
When we reached the Ferris wheel, my stomach knotted at the height.
"You don't have to," Jihwa said softly, noticing my hesitation.
"I… I want to," I admitted, my voice tight. Fear clawed at me, but I needed to try.
He slid his hand into mine, warm and steady. "Then hold on to me. I won't let you fall."
As we slowly rose into the sky, the park shrinking below us, the chaos faded into distant noise. For the first time that day, I allowed myself to breathe.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
I swallowed hard, glancing at him. "Yeah…"
He brushed a stray strand of hair from my face. My heart raced. I wanted to lean into him, but fear made me stiff.
"Dohyun," he whispered. "You can lean on me. Always."
I nodded, too choked up to speak, feeling something fragile stir in my chest—a sense of safety I hadn't known for a long time.
After the Ferris wheel, he coaxed me onto a small roller coaster. My stomach flipped, my hands white-knuckled on the bar.
"Hold on to me," Jihwa whispered.
The ride started slow, then plunged. My scream died in my throat as fear and adrenaline collided. Yet, Jihwa's hand stayed firmly in mine.
When it stopped, I was trembling but… laughing. Raw, uneven, but real.
"You did it," Jihwa said softly, brushing his thumb across my knuckles.
"I… did," I admitted, voice shaky, but proud.
Walking past the game booths, the smell of popcorn hit me like a punch. A memory ripped through me—Hyok laughing, dragging me into some cruel performance, forcing smiles I didn't feel, pretending the world was bright when it was hollow. My chest tightened, and the sweetness in my mouth curdled into something bitter, almost poisonous.
I trembled, fingers slipping, nearly letting the popcorn fall to the ground.
Jihwa noticed immediately. "Hey," he said, voice low, almost breaking. "It's okay… you're safe."
"I…" I couldn't finish. My throat burned, words choking me. "I… I can't… it takes me back—"
He didn't ask, didn't prod. He just stepped closer, letting the silence hold me. His hand hovered near mine, a quiet anchor. "Breathe," he murmured. "Just breathe."
I did. Slowly. Counting. Letting the present hold me a little tighter than the past, though the shadow of it still lingered, cold and heavy.
I want to live in the present, not the past.
Later, we tried the spinning teacups. My hands clutched the edge of the cup like it was a lifeline, afraid that if I let go, I'd spin right out of control. My stomach fluttered nervously, and for a moment, I wished I could disappear into the ground.
Jihwa laughed beside me, bright and easy, a sound that felt almost wrong against the heaviness still weighing on me. His joy was contagious, though, and despite myself, I felt a twinge of it, a flicker of warmth I hadn't noticed in a long time.
"You're so stiff!" he teased, spinning his cup lightly.
I shot him a glare, but it faltered into something like a smile. "I don't want to throw up!" I admitted, my voice trembling just a little.
He laughed harder, reaching over to steady my cup as if sensing I might actually topple. "You're doing fine. I've got you."
And for a moment, the world didn't feel heavy. For a moment, I forgot about the popcorn, the memories, the ache that had been sitting in my chest all day. I felt a small, fragile sort of freedom, like maybe I could let go—even if just for a few spins.
As the teacup wobbled and whirled, I could hear my own laughter mingling with his. It was shaky, uncertain, like a bird trying to fly for the first time, but it was mine. And for once, it didn't feel like pretending.
But even as I laughed, a quiet shadow lingered at the edge of my mind. The memory of Hyok, the fear, the bitterness—it whispered beneath the surface, reminding me that joy was never simple, never guaranteed. I held on tighter to Jihwa's steady presence, letting him anchor me through the dizziness and the unease, grateful for this small pocket of safety in a day that had started so rough.
A sudden gust of wind cut through the park, rattling the trees and sending a group of children squealing past us. My chest seized, sharp and sudden, as if it remembered something it wanted to forget. Panic flared, hot and unrelenting.
"Dohyun! Hey, look at me!" Jihwa grabbed my shoulders, holding me steady. "Breathe. In… out… Can you do that with me?"
I closed my eyes, shaking. "I… I can't…" I gasped, my words trembling. "It's too much… too loud…"
He squeezed my shoulders gently. "Shhh… you're okay. I'm right here. Look at me. Count with me. In… one… two… three… out…"
I tried, my breath uneven, stuttering over each number. "I… I'm… I'm fine," I croaked, though my voice betrayed me.
"You are," he insisted, his voice soft but firm. "I've got you. Always."
I swallowed, trying to steady myself, my hands curling around the edge of the bench. "It… it felt like… like before. Everything spinning… and I couldn't stop it."
"I know," he said quietly. "I can't take that away, not yet. But I can stand here. I can stay. You're not alone, okay?"
I nodded, leaning slightly into him. "I… I'm scared…"
"I know," he whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. "And it's okay to be scared. You don't have to pretend for me."
By the time the sun began its slow descent, we found a quiet bench, the chaos of the park fading into a soft hum behind us. The sky was painted in bleeding shades of orange and pink, reflecting off my sticky skin and tangled hair. I rested my head on Jihwa's shoulder.
"You don't have to say anything," he murmured. "Just stay. That's enough."
I let out a shaky laugh. "I feel like… I shouldn't feel okay."
"Why not?" he asked, tilting his head. "You're allowed. Even if it's just for a little while."
"I… I don't know how," I admitted. "Everything feels… heavy."
"I know," he said softly. "Then let me carry some of it with you. Let me be here. Just let me."
I closed my eyes, letting his warmth seep in. "It feels… safe," I whispered.
"That's right," he said, brushing my hair back. "Just safe. Not perfect. Not happy. Safe."
As we walked toward the exit, my hand brushed against his. My heart skipped. "Jihwa… I—"
He turned his head, smiling gently. "Shh… just feel it. That's enough for now."
"But… I want…" I hesitated, words catching. "I want you here. Always."
He smiled softly. "Then I'll be. Always. Step by step. I'll stay."
I let out a small laugh, nervous but relieved. "Even if I panic again?"
"Even then," he said, taking my hand in his. "Even then. You don't have to face it alone."
The world felt both heavy and light at once, like carrying a memory that hurt but also made room for something new. And somewhere deep inside, I felt it—a tiny pulse of hope, fragile and persistent. Something inside me had already started to heal, quietly, almost imperceptibly.
Later, we sat on a bench with sticky fingers from cotton candy. My mind felt heavy, weighed down by lingering fear and the remnants of pain I hadn't processed.
Jihwa leaned back, offering me a small piece of the candy. "Here," he said gently.
I took it, my hands shaking. "Thanks…"
"I like seeing you smile," he said quietly. "Even if it's small. Even if it's fragile."
I choked on a laugh, bitter and uneven. "You like a lot of things you shouldn't."
"Maybe," he admitted, eyes softening. "But I like you. And I'll wait until you like yourself enough to believe it."
The words hit me like a wave. I wanted to tell him so many things—about fear, about pain, about the way my body and mind were still haunted by Hyok—but I couldn't. I only nodded, letting my tears blur into the cotton candy's pink sweetness.
But what is like?
The park lights began to flicker, signaling the evening. We returned to the Ferris wheel, slower this time, almost private.
"Sit close," he said, patting the seat beside him.
I obeyed, pressing against him. The ride moved gently, the city lights spreading beneath us.
"Dohyun," he said softly, "you're doing so well. Even after everything…"
I closed my eyes, heart clenching. "You don't know," I whispered. "You don't know what it's like to feel… broken, used, experimented on…"
"I know you feel broken," he said quietly, "but I don't see broken when I look at you. I see you. All of you. And I want to be here."
The words, soft as they were, made me feel exposed. But instead of recoiling, I rested my head against his shoulder. And for the first time in months, maybe years, I let myself cry—silent, shaky tears that no one else would have allowed.
He didn't speak. He didn't try to fix it. He just let me be, letting the quiet hum of the Ferris wheel and the faint sounds of the park surround us.
By the time the ride ended, the night had fully fallen. I walked beside him, hands brushing occasionally, the warmth lingering.
I didn't understand what I was feeling. Relief? Comfort? Something heavier, more dangerous… love?
Jihwa didn't force it. He didn't comment. He simply stayed with me, letting me exist in a world that felt safe, for now.
I thought of Hyok, of my pain, of everything I had lost. And yet… the anger, the bitterness, the fear, all seemed to dull a little when he was near.
Maybe I was beginning to believe that someone could care, that someone could see me—not as broken, not as a mistake, but as me.
By the time we left the Ferris wheel, the night air had grown cooler. The park lights reflected in Jihwa's eyes, making them glimmer like they always did when he smiled—soft, teasing, almost impossible to resist.
"Look!" he said suddenly, pointing to the sky.
The first firework exploded above us, painting the night in bursts of red and gold. I felt my chest tighten, a strange mix of awe and fear. The colors reminded me of chaos, of past nights where fear had painted my own life in shades I didn't want to see again.
Jihwa noticed my hesitation. He gently nudged me with his shoulder. "Hey. It's okay. You're here. You're safe."
I nodded, letting him hold my hand, and this time I didn't pull away. The fireworks reflected in my tearful eyes, but the warmth of his hand grounded me.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Jihwa murmured.
I swallowed hard, forcing a smile. "Yeah… beautiful."
"Not as beautiful as your face," he teased softly, leaning closer.
I froze for a moment, my chest constricting. My mind wanted to retreat, to remind him I wasn't ready to feel anything like… love. But part of me—the small, desperate part that still longed for care—wanted to stay here, close to him, even if it scared me.
After the fireworks, we wandered toward the ice cream stand. The scents of sugar and chocolate hit me like a memory I didn't know I had forgotten.
"I'm getting the largest cone they have," Jihwa declared, his grin mischievous. "And you're helping me eat it."
I raised an eyebrow but followed him. We sat on a nearby bench, the night quiet except for the occasional laughter of other couples and families.
He handed me a scoop of chocolate. I hesitated. "What if I make a mess?"
"You won't," he said softly. But before I could react, he pressed a bit of ice cream onto my nose.
I blinked, shocked. "Jihwa!"
He laughed, eyes sparkling. "Your turn."
Before I could refuse, I smeared some on his nose. He groaned dramatically, then laughed, reaching to wipe it off, only for me to touch it again.
We stayed like that for a few minutes—ice cream smudges on noses, laughing too loudly, forgetting the world outside this little bubble.
I realized my chest didn't hurt as much anymore. The sharp edges of my trauma dulled, replaced by something soft and fleeting. Something that felt dangerously like happiness.
Finally, we leaned back on the bench, breathing heavily from laughter. The city lights shimmered behind us, reflecting on Jihwa's hair, his eyes, the small curve of his lips that had once calmed me with just a glance.
"Dohyun," he said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.
I looked at him. "Hm?"
"You're… smiling. Really smiling." His tone was gentle, cautious. "I haven't seen you like this in a long time."
I swallowed, looking down at my lap. "It's… not fake."
He reached over, touching my hand, holding it like he was afraid I'd disappear if he let go. "I know. And it's… good. I like seeing it. I like seeing you."
The words hit me harder than I expected. My chest ached—not with pain, but with longing and fear. I wanted to tell him how much I had suffered, how much I hated myself, how much I didn't know if I deserved this happiness. But I couldn't.
"I… I don't know if I—" I stopped, unable to finish.
He leaned closer, his forehead resting against mine. "You don't have to say anything. Just… stay here. With me. Let me be here."
"I…uhm…oh…okay?"
But as we sat there, quiet except for our steady breathing and the distant sounds of the park, a small, nagging thought crept in. The past doesn't disappear just because you're laughing or eating ice cream.
I clenched my fists slightly. Hyok's shadow still lingered in my mind, in my body. And even as I let this fleeting joy settle over me, I knew that healing wasn't simple.
Jihwa didn't notice my tightening grip. He just smiled, leaning into me, and whispered, "I'm not going anywhere. Not for a long time."
And I wanted to believe him. I needed to.
We left the park quietly, walking side by side under the soft glow of streetlights. My hand stayed in Jihwa's, tentative but unwilling to let go. The city was calm, almost peaceful, and for once, I let myself believe that maybe some fragments of life could be gentle.
"Tonight was… good," I murmured, still chewing on the sweetness of cotton candy and laughter.
Jihwa glanced at me, his usual sharp grin softened. "Good, huh? That's all?"
I let out a small, shaky laugh. "It's… more than I expected."
He squeezed my hand, just a little. "Then let's make sure there's more. Little by little. No rush. No pressure."
I nodded, my chest tight with a mixture of hope and lingering fear. Because even as happiness brushed against me, I knew it was fragile. But for now… I allowed myself to stay here, beside him.
And in that quiet, simple moment, I realized something: maybe healing didn't have to be a storm. Maybe, just maybe, it could be a series of tiny, gentle steps… taken together.
I glanced up at Jihwa, his face illuminated by a passing streetlight, and for the first time in so long, I felt safe. Really safe.
And for tonight… that was enough.
I smiled ate him. "Do I smile brighter than you shining star?"
He looked at me and smiled again. "Always my little Dohyun."