◤"You could only send your wishes to the moon, hoping it would be kind enough to deliver them to him, wherever he may be."
◤Disclaimers: This story is set in the past. Fluff with a hint of angst(?) I think.
◤Word count: 4.2K
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I.
You don't remember when did you start running exactly. Was it six months ago? Four years? It felt like eternity to you.
Sometimes you thought of your family. The people you left behind. How were they? Where were they? Uncertain, that's what you preferred calling their fate. For all you knew, they might be dead. But not you. You are a survivor, and you wanted to remain that way.
Survive, that was the only alive instinct you had. You stopped feeling things long ago. Wolves hunted and ran. Maybe that's what became of you.
You waited by an aged building, senses alert, looking for a certain brunet to come running your way. There he was, sprinting past alarmed villagers with a furious stall keeper chasing him. In his hands, he clutched a small brown pouch, your key to surviving the next week.
On reflex, your legs started moving, fueling the wildfire that burned in your veins. Your hands found their way to your unkempt skirts, lifting them to allow you to run better. Your sling bag hit your side repeatedly, but it was a pain you grew to ignore over time. Your pace matched his, and together, you dodged villagers and slid through dark alleys.
You couldn't hear the world around you, but you felt the quiet security of the forest when you reached it. You never stopped running, not until you were safely tucked in the forest's protective blanket.
You stopped to catch your breath, feeling your lungs work in a frenzy. Next to you, Seungmin had his hands on his knees, heaving one deep breath after another. You spotted the pouch, laying like a stuffed pig on the forest ground. You couldn't count all the times you've ran out of a town, clutching the pouch you and Seungmin filled with stolen goods from the market. There was a time when you had money, some distant memory where you bought new dresses and tasted honeyed pastry. But that was before the world turned against you.
Before those armed men knocked on your home's door.
Seungmin picked up the pouch, slinging it across his chest before smiling at you, signing with his hands, are you okay?
He always asked, and you always signed back.
I'm okay.
That's good. He threw you another beautiful smile and you noticed how messy his hair became after the run. As if with a mind of its own, your hand went to his hair, petting down the stray strands. It was a habit, Seungmin noticed, you liked to fix his hair.
We should get back on track, you returned his smile as you signed. The boy nodded and the two of you started trudging under the protection of the forest.
