Author's Note: I haven't written any fanfic in years, but I just had this concept in my head that would only work if I picked up these particular characters and played around with them for a while. It ended up being a proper nostalgia fix for me, and I thought it might be nice to share it. This is a oneshot set maybe six months or so after Restless, but if you never read it, there's no need to go there first. You'll be okay.

WINTER

Xiaoyu's apartment was pretty bare considering she'd been living there half a year. It wasn't like she hadn't had the time to decorate; her cafe job was only part-time. It suited her just fine, but she knew it was a privilege she wouldn't be able to afford if it wasn't for Jin. She hadn't wanted that.

Freezing rain tapped at the lounge window, and she tightened her grip on her mug. Silence and the medicinal scent of honey & lemon hung in the air. She tried to take a breath through her nose, but it was still too stuffy and sore. Stinging eyes surveyed the room, searching for her blanket. It was where she'd left it, tossed carelessly over the back of the sofa as she'd left for work the previous morning. She'd called in sick today.

The best thing for her to do would be to go back to sleep, but her mind was too full, her thoughts too fast. She suddenly found herself dwelling on a memory, hadn't expected the strength of the sadness that clutched at her. The warmth of Jin's hand on her forehead, the weight of the tray on her knees. He'd brought her soup, climbed into bed with her. She remembered the cool laptop light glinting off his glasses, screen crammed with charts and spreadsheets, the sound of his fingers on the keyboard lulling her to sleep.

The insistent buzz of her phone snapped her awake. Probably a telemarketer; no one else would be calling her on a workday morning. Was it still morning? Must be. She hadn't been asleep that long, surely? Wait, when had she fallen to sleep?

She needed soup. She could probably do with making a quick trip to the pharmacy for some cough medicine, too. It was only a short walk from the apartment, through a park bursting with trees, bare branches stretching to the sky. Xiaoyu pulled her hair into a messy bun, throwing her red raincoat over her pyjamas. She stopped for a second, considering whether it was worth getting dressed properly, then slid her pyjama bottoms off and pulled on a pair of leggings, still slightly damp from the washer. What did it matter?

Outside, the air was heavy, the rain painting everything grey. A bus rolled past as she waited at the crossing, its wheels flicking up a mist of dirty water. She should have put a scarf on. Her mother would have pushed one into her hands, telling her she'd make herself worse, going out in that weather. It would have been too much effort to find one. Everything was too much effort right now. She was twenty-one, and everything was too much effort. What sense did that make?

She'd reached the strip of shops. There was the bakery, stuffed to the brim with people and wet umbrellas. They sold the best cupcakes in the city, but it had been a long time since she'd had any appetite. Past the bakery was a takeaway stand, neon signs dark, empty until the evening. She entered the supermarket next door, heading past the ever-present queue at the kiosk towards the pharmacy at the back.

Hwoarang had been smoking the last time she'd seen him. It was almost burned out when she'd arrived, but he didn't light another, just crushed it in the ashtray. She remembered his hand on her thigh, his mouth on hers. No words exchanged, conversation discarded like cigarettes. Had he stopped answering, or had she?

Again, her phone rang. Again, it stopped.

Xiaoyu paid for cough syrup, painkillers, lozenges, tissues, soup. Outside, the street was bustling with salarymen eating lunch, holding hurried conversations on their phones, splashing through puddles, dark suits speckled with rain. She wondered how many of them worked for Mishima Corp. How many of them had wives that packed their meals and waited for them every night. How many of them arrived home, shrugged off dinner, scattered papers across the table before they'd even taken off their shoes.

Jin had said 'I hope you're happy'. She'd tried to argue against taking the apartment, but he wouldn't accept her refusal. The signatures stared up at her before the papers were slid away, locked in a briefcase, and that's when he'd said it. There was no bitterness. It was what he genuinely wanted for her. Forgiveness was another matter.

Forgiveness was impossible. The fact that it was self-inflicted made it even worse.

Her canvas bag was soaked by the time she arrived home to an unlocked door. Her mind registered a prickle of fear, remembered turning the key before she left.

"Where's your umbrella?"

Miharu's accusing voice pierced the silence, her energy already exhausting.

"...Shouldn't you be working?"

"You're more important."

Xiaoyu's throat tightened as she set the bag down on the counter and unpacked the soup. Miharu grabbed it from her numb hands, rubbed them between hers.

"Xiao, you're freezing! Go sit down and I'll warm it up, okay?"

She took her raincoat, hung it on the back of the door to dry. Sitting on the sofa and pulling her blanket around her, Xiaoyu watched as Miharu heated a pan on the stove.

"I had an idea last night," she said after a while. "I wanna go somewhere. And you're gonna come with me."

"No," Xiaoyu answered automatically. "We've only just come back from China."

Miharu shook her head, the cool kitchen light glinting in her hair. She brought the soup over on a tray, climbed onto the sofa next to her.

"Are you kidding? That was last year, Xiao. Seriously, I think you might be delirious. But anyway, one of my clients just came back from Iceland," she said, pulling out her phone. "Look at these pictures and tell me 'no' again."

The unmistakeable green glow of the Northern Lights stared back at her. An appointment notification popped up on Miharu's phone to interrupt, but she dismissed it, scrolling through the photos. Black skies studded with stars, the glisten of snow on the ground, breathtaking ribbons of light sweeping overhead, green melting into dark purples and reds.

"Look, I know it's been rough for you lately. I just think another trip might help. Plus, it'll be spring soon, we won't get a chance to see them if we don't go now. Alright? And c'mon, what's stopping us?" Miharu asked. "Well, apart from you dying from 'flu before we get chance to go, that is?" And for the first time in a while, Xiaoyu felt a smile at her lips.

"Nothing," she answered. "Nothing's stopping us."