Beside You (Law School)

Sprint

It was never really over. Not for Han Joonhwi.

Lee Manho was dead, Assemblyman Ko in ruins and incarcerated. Professor Yang was proven guiltless, as was Jeon Yeseul, and their study group no longer had a monster looming over their heads, no longer have to fight against the barrage of sinister plans against them.

But Han Joonhwi's uncle was still dead, had still betrayed him. He was still alone, with no family to call home.

It was easy, so easy to fall into this black hole. It was a slippery slope he knew the entrance to like the back of his hand. As much as he was a study in control—of his mind, of his emotions, even of people around him when he wanted to, the door to grief was never a thing he could permanently close. Sometimes he could shut it, leaving a tiny sliver that he could ignore.

Other times, like tonight, the gap widened, pulling him under.

Joonhwi's sneakers pounded against the ground for the nth lap—he didn't know, he'd lost count. Beads of sweat rained on his face in place of tears. He welcomed the rush, the throbbing in his limbs, knowing the exhaustion would assure him of a dreamless sleep.

He passed the mark and slowed down, his lungs angry at him. He bent over, leaning on his knees. When he stood up, his eyes caught movement in the bleachers above him. Followed by whooping.

"Go for gold, track star and second round judicial passer, Han Joonhwi!"

His face cracked a smile. He couldn't help it. Not even the gloomiest of nights could resist the sun.

"What are you doing out here, Sol?"

He tried to sound annoyed but knew he was failing, terribly so. He liked to think he would have managed a semblance of grumpiness months ago, if she had caught him grief-running earlier in their 1L year. But things had progressed quite quickly since then, and he was at her mercy.

Some days he was relieved she didn't know this. Most days it pained him.

Sol hopped off the bleachers and skipped to him, her level of energy at odds with the ungodly hour.

"Thought you might want a record-keeper," she said with an impish grin when she stood in front of him. She flashed him her notebook, bearing lines of her neat strokes. "You know I take the most accurate notes."

He tried not to blush at the pleasure of her presence. He was flushing enough from the exertion of running.

"It's 2 in the morning, Kang Sol."

"That's my line, Han Joonhwi."

"Aren't you cold?"

"Also my line." Sol unzipped her backpack and pulled out his jacket.

Joonhwi shot her a puzzled look. He didn't bring a jacket. The wind nipping at the skin exposed by his t-shirt was reminding him of it.

"I asked Jiho to bring it before I came down here," Sol explained. "He glared at me when he handed it over, then told me never to disturb his studies for something stupid again. Which in Jiho Talk translates to 'thank you for looking out for hyung, noona.' Right?"

"More like, 'you will pay for this, Kang Sol.'"

"Eh. I will put it on your Jiho Tab."

Joonhwi extended his hand for the jacket but Sol swerved behind him. He felt her hands ghost his shoulders, his skin prickling upon contact. Heard her hop on tiptoes as she struggled to push his left arm through one sleeve and then the other, reaching to smooth out his collar.