CHAPTER 4: THE NIGHT WALK
The campus looked different at night.
Streetlights cast long, distorted shadows across the pavement, stretching trees into thin, crooked figures. The laughter from earlier had faded, replaced by the low hum of distant traffic and the occasional chirp of insects hidden in the dark.
Jimin walked beside Hoseok in silence.
They hadn't planned to walk together. It just… happened. Like neither of them wanted to be alone after what was said near the old building.
"You didn't have to follow me," Hoseok said suddenly.
Jimin glanced at him. "You didn't ask me not to."
Hoseok huffed a quiet laugh. "Fair."
They continued down the path that cut through the quieter side of campus—the one most students avoided after sunset. The lamps here flickered instead of glowing steadily, as if even the light was unsure of itself.
Jimin felt it then.
That feeling.
The one that crept up his spine and settled between his shoulders.
"Hyung," he said slowly, "do you feel that?"
Hoseok didn't answer right away.
Then, softly, "Yeah."
They stopped.
Somewhere behind them, footsteps echoed.
Not rushed.
Not loud.
Just… present.
Jimin turned around.
The path behind them was empty.
"No one's there," Jimin muttered, more to reassure himself than anything else.
Hoseok didn't turn around.
"That doesn't mean no one's following us," he said.
Jimin's heart skipped.
They started walking again, a little faster this time. The sound followed.
Step.
Step.
Pause.
Jimin's breath grew shallow. "This isn't funny, hyung."
"I'm not joking."
They reached a dimly lit intersection where the path split in two. Hoseok stopped abruptly.
"That way leads to the dorms," he said, pointing left. "This way leads out of campus."
Jimin frowned. "Then why are we stopping?"
Hoseok stared straight ahead.
"Because," he said quietly, "that's where I used to walk with him."
Jimin felt the words sink into the night.
Before he could ask anything else, the air shifted—cold, sharp, sudden.
A figure stood at the edge of the light.
Not close enough to see clearly.
But close enough to be real.
Jimin's chest tightened. "Hyung…?"
Hoseok took a step forward without thinking.
"Don't," Jimin whispered, grabbing his sleeve. "That could be anyone."
Hoseok didn't pull away.
The figure didn't move.
Streetlight flicker revealed just enough—a boy, about their age, standing unnaturally still. His head was slightly tilted, as if listening.
Jimin couldn't see his face.
But Hoseok inhaled sharply.
"You," he breathed.
The figure took a step back.
Then another.
And disappeared into the dark.
Silence crashed down.
Jimin's grip tightened. "Hoseok-hyung, who was that?"
Hoseok didn't answer.
His hands were shaking.
"That wasn't possible," he whispered. "I looked for you everywhere."
Jimin felt something cold settle in his stomach.
"You know him," Jimin said. It wasn't a question.
Hoseok nodded slowly. "I think…" He swallowed. "I think he found me first."
A distant laugh echoed somewhere down the path—too soft, too hollow.
Jimin didn't know if it was real.
He didn't want to find out.
"Let's go," Jimin said firmly. "Now."
Hoseok let himself be pulled away this time.
But as they walked back toward the dorms, Jimin couldn't shake the feeling that someone was still behind them—
Watching.
Waiting.
Remembering.
And far away, tucked safely in Hoseok's pocket, the folded letter felt heavier than paper ever should.