The bookstore pact

The inside of the bookstore was warm.

Dusty shelves. Wooden floors.

A small lamp lit one corner with golden light.

Ji-Woo stood by the door, soaked from the rain, shivering slightly.

Min-Ho handed him a towel, silently.

Ji-Woo dried his hair but kept his eyes low.

It was easier that way. Easier than confronting all the words they hadn't said.

Min-Ho walked behind the counter, made tea without asking.

Ji-Woo watched his hands again — calm, steady, familiar.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low.

"You never changed this place."

Min-Ho looked up. "It's the only thing that stayed the same."

That hurt more than Ji-Woo expected.

---

They sat on the floor between two shelves, cups between their hands, knees almost touching.

The silence wasn't awkward — it was soft, full of memory.

Min-Ho finally broke it.

"Do you remember that day? Here. Three years ago."

Ji-Woo nodded. "I was crying because my dad never showed up. You brought me a comic book and made up a fake story about a hero who gets abandoned… but still saves the world."

Min-Ho smiled faintly. "I always wanted to be that kind of hero."

Ji-Woo sipped his tea.

"You were. For me."

A pause.

Then Ji-Woo whispered:

"But heroes don't disappear."

Min-Ho's jaw tightened. "I didn't disappear, Ji-Woo. I was waiting."

Another pause. Longer.

"What are we doing here?" Ji-Woo asked.

Min-Ho didn't hesitate.

"We're starting again."

---

Before Ji-Woo left, Min-Ho handed him a book.

On the first page, in pencil, was a short sentence.

"Let's rewrite this winter."

Ji-Woo didn't answer.

He just pressed the book to his chest like a promise.