When nostaligia strikes like a bad dream

Min Jae found himself seated on a weathered wooden bench beneath the dim glow of a street lamp. His breath curled into the cold night air, dissipating in soft puffs. The silence of the night was calm yet unnerving.

Beside him, Seo Jun leaned back, his gaze fixed on the vast, empty expanse above in the skies and beyond the stars.

"You know, Min," he murmured, his voice was low, just enough for Min to hear him, "I never cared about money the way others did when I was younger. I didn't dream of wealth or status. I just wanted enough— enough to eat, enough so my mom wouldn't have to work herself into the ground. That was all."

Min remained silent, allowing Jun the room to unravel his thoughts. It was rare for him to speak of his past, and when he did, it was as though he were offering fragments of himself, seeking to be understood without the burden of judgment.