“Naeun-ah, you should really come home for Christmas this year!” my mother was saying over the phone.

            “I don’t know, mom. I’m very busy,” I replied.

            “But honey, I haven’t seen you for years. Same with Myungsoo. Is a family reunion so much to ask for?” my mother asked me.

            I paused at the mention of Myungsoo. I’d been being kind of cold to him lately because of what I’d received in the mail. He’d shrugged it off as just me being stressed and tired, of course. I couldn’t possibly tell him what was going on. We were just starting to get back onto good terms. I didn’t need this to ruin us.

            “Myungsoo agreed to coming down for dinner this weekend. You should come too, Naeun,” my mother added.

            She sounded like she missed me so much that it hurt. So in the end, I accepted.

            A couple of hours later, I got a call from Myungsoo.

            “Hey Naeun,” he said. “Since it’s quite a drive back to our parent’s place, want to just carpool?”

            Carpool. That would mean Myungsoo and me getting into the same car for about an hour, with the possibility of somebody seeing us.

            “Um no, it’s okay. I can drive myself.”

            “Are you sure? It’s really busy around the holiday season. We might as well carpool to avoid as much traffic as possible.”

            . He was right.

            “Great,” Myungsoo said without waiting for a response from me. “I’ll pick you up at four. We should get there by dinnertime.”

            And with that, he hung up.

            On the day of the road trip with my stepbrother, I made sure to wear a hat and sunglasses when I met up with him in the parking lot.

            He gave me a funny look. “What up with the disguise? There’s no one here.”

            You don’t know that.

            “My hair’s a bit messy,” I fibbed. “And my dark circles too.”

            “Okaaaay,” Myungsoo said slowly. “Whatever you wish.”

            The two of us got into his car. I took notice that the windows were tinted. Thank goodness.

            “Your driving isn’t that bad,” I commented as he got onto the highway.

            He smirked. “Thanks.” Some rap song was on the radio, and he sensed my discomfort. “You can change the station if you want.”

            I fiddled around with the controls, not fully satisfied with the stations. Then “I Will Always Love You” by Whitney Houston played.

            “Oh god,” Myungsoo said, “depressing much?”

            “I like this song.”

            “I can’t drive to depressing music.”

            “You said I could change it to whatever station I wanted,” I stated.

            “Yeah and when I said that I thought it would be to some nice acoustic sound suitable for driving. Indie or alternative.”

            “Oh yeah,” I said. “You like acoustics don’t you? The guitar and whatnot.”

            “Yes,” he said. “I do.”

            “I wish I could play the guitar.” I leaned back in my seat. Whitney continued to sing in the background, seemingly forgotten now. “For WGM I have to plan something for Taemin and I was going to play guitar but I honestly have no idea where to start.”

            “I can teach you a couple tricks,” Myungsoo offered.

            “Really?”

            “Yeah. We can pick out an easy song with basic chords. Maybe some tabs.”

            “Hm. That actually doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Yeah,” I said, nodding. “We should totally do it.”

            “Great. But you have to pay me.”

            “What.”

            “You think I do this stuff for free?”

            “Yah!” I said, punching his arm. “I get a free pass since I’m your sister!”

            “Stepsister, young one.”

            “I get your lessons for free.”

            “Uh huh.”

            I smiled, which made him smile, and soon we were both laughing. And by then, Whitney’s song was long gone.

            “Naeun! Myungsoo! You’re home!”

            My mother ran up to me with open arms, Sanghyun as well.

            “My, Naeun, you’ve grown so much thinner!”

            I shrugged. “Idol diets and all.”

            “Intense stuff,” Myungsoo added.

            “Come, come, there’s so much food to go around!” my mother said as she gently pulled me over to the dining room. “So how are things?”

            “You two must see each other a lot backstage at shows and such,” Mr. Kim said. “It’s such a small world, that idol world.”

            Myungsoo and I both nodded instinctively, hiding the fact that yes, we do see each other a lot, but it’s never the way we picture it.

            The four of us sat down and had a nice, homemade dinner. We made small talk here and there, about our activities and opinions about politics, etc.

            “That was a good dinner, Mrs. Son,” Myungsoo said. “Your cooking is amazing, unlike Naeun’s.”

            What.

            “Hey, when did you ever taste my cooking huh?” I asked him.

            “That one time I was sick and you tried making soup for me, remember?” He nonchalantly took a sip of his water, as if it was mere instinct to remember such an event.

            “That,” I said, “was some of the best soup you’ve ever tasted and you know it.”

            “Riiiggghhhhtt,” he said. “Keep thinking that, Son Napoop.”

            He said it. HE SAID IT.

            “You take that back.”

            “Make me.”

            My mother and Sanghyun were all smiles. “Oh gosh, Sanghyun, they haven’t changed a bit!”

            While I was helping my mother with the dishes, I thought back to that supposed “memory” of him tasting my cooking. Then, I remembered.

            Myungsoo sat up again, pulling the covers off a bit. I grabbed a chair and sat next to him. He tentatively spooned some soup.

            “I didn’t put poison in it or anything,” I stated.

            He peered over at me. “Just making sure, you know.” Then he smiled as he took a taste.

            “How is it?” I asked nervously.

            He took some time to taste it, then slowly nodded. “It’s good. Amazing, actually.”

            It was that time when he dragged me to the park and it started to rain. I was cold and soaking wet and he loaned me his jacket, getting sick in the process. Out of guilt, I’d made him soup AND HE’D CALLED IT AMAZING.

            He couldn’t have possibly thought it was horrible. I mean, he downed the entire thing. No one has called my soup horrible.

            “You and Myungsoo are just adorable together,” my mother suddenly said, snapping me out from my thoughts.

            “O-Oh.” I was quite taken aback by her comment. “Thanks, I guess. We hate each other.”

            “Nonsense!” my mother exclaimed. “It’s cute, nonetheless. That playful bickering and all. I see the genuine happiness on your face when he does that.”

            I looked at her, slightly stunned. “You’ve noticed?”

            “Of course. You’re my daughter, how can I not?”

            I wonder what else she’s noticed between me and Myungsoo.

            After dinner, the four of us went for a walk around the neighborhood to look at all of the Christmas lights. It was all so beautiful and enchanting. I loved it.

            That night, my mother expressed to me about how happy she was to see me and Myungsoo returning back to our rooms for the weekend.

            “It’ll be just like old times,” she said. “Sanghyun and I have kept your rooms in pristine touch. We haven’t moved anything.”

            “Thanks mom,” I said. “It’s nice to be back here. Lots of memories.”

            While getting ready for bed, I got a sudden wave of nostalgia. This was the place where everything happened. It was interesting to think that he and I had come such a long way from when we’d first met during that fateful day.

          My bedroom door opened and in popped Myungsoo’s head. “Hey,” he said. “Just came in to say goodnight.”

            I took notice of how his hair looked after a shower. It was insanely attractive. I bit back a smile as I said, “Thanks. Goodnight to you, too.”

            Myungsoo nodded back at me and closed the door softly, hardly making a sound.