The train station smells like metal and rain.
Not fresh rain. The kind that already passed through hours ago, leaving the concrete dark and damp, leaving the air heavy and cool in a way that clings to your clothes. The overhead lights reflect in shallow puddles along the platform, stretching the glow of the station into long wavering lines.
People move around you with the restless energy of departure. Wheels rolling across tile. Suitcases bumping over cracks. Quiet announcements echoing from speakers above.
But all of it feels distant.
Because her suitcase looks too big.
It sits upright beside Yujin like an accusation. Dark blue, scuffed at the corners, the handle extended to almost her shoulder.
You stare at it too long.
She notices.
“That’s a very judgmental look,” she says.
You blink, forcing your eyes up to her face.
“I’m not judging.”
“You are absolutely judging my suitcase.”
“It’s huge.”
“It’s normal.”
“It’s not normal. It’s emotionally threatening.”
She snorts, the sound bright and soft in the middle of the station noise.
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being observant.”
“You’re being clingy.”
“That too.”
Her smile widens a little at that.
For a moment it almost feels normal.
She nudges the suitcase with her sneaker. “It’s just clothes.”
“You packed your entire life.”
“I did not.”
“You probably packed three different jackets.”
“Two.”
“Yujin.”
“Okay, three.”
You sigh like this is the most serious betrayal imaginable.
She laughs again, and for a few seconds the two of you lean into the bit, exaggerating the argument like you’ve done a hundred times before.
“You’re unbelievable,” you say.
“I’m practical.”
“You’re preparing for every possible weather system.”
“You don’t understand fashion.”
“You would pack a raincoat for the dessert.”
“You never know.”
“You absolutely know.”
She shrugs, pretending to consider it.
“Maybe I’ll start a trend.”
“Raincoat dessert?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll be unstoppable.”
“Exactly.”
Her smile lingers.
But it softens at the edges.
The noise of the station creeps back in around you.
You shift your weight, shoving your hands in your jacket pockets because they feel too restless otherwise.
Your fingers brush against something small.
You pause.
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