The week flew by quickly. In a blink of an eye, Yan and I were back in Changi Airport. As she checked her bags in, I looked around the airport, at the settings that I had once been so familiar with. The Starbucks at the corner where Yan and I often had coffees on Sundays. I heard the strings of Luigi Boccherini – String Quintet in E major playing and recalled how we talked about everything under the sun; her writing, my work, our hopes for the future, our fears or just utter rubbish as we had tea and attempted to speak in an English accent. Those were good times. Happier times. I felt a small smile twist my lips as I reminisced about those times. Of times when I still had a family to come home to. A sort of finishing line if you will.

The familiar should be comforting, yet a part of me yearned for Seoul. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I felt compelled to run back for some reason. A thrill of excitement ran down my spine as I thought about how soon I'd be back in the city – the same city that got me cursing and swearing on a near daily basis at the foreign characters. Of how I'd soon be breathing in the smells of the sprawling metropolis: the spicy aroma of tteokbokki simmering away in a pojangmacha's pot. The spicy rice cake, Korea’s representative street food, did not agree with me initially. But the chewy spicy snack had eventually grown on me, especially on cold winter nights when I craved something hot and steamy. I trembled with excitement when I thought of how I'd enjoy a bowl, the cool air of a late spring kissing my face as I wandered the streets. Her face as she smiled at me. Wait wha?! Scratch that.

Still, I shook with anticipation. I felt butterflies in my tummy, the kind of nervous jitters one gets just before a race. It was like I saw the finish line and where I was supposed to be headed. And at the end of the line, I saw her face.

“Hey man! I'm done. Let's go grab a cuppa while we wait.” I heard Yan say, shaking me out of my daydream. I shook my head, trying to rid myself of thoughts of the actress, irritated with myself. Adjusting the backpack on my shoulder, I followed after my friend.

I felt someone nudging me, rousing me from my nap. Growling, I turned to the source. “This had better be good.” I muttered grumpily. Looking up, I saw that it was Ji Hyo. Blinking stupidly, I belatedly came to the realisation that I wasn't at home on my comfy bed but I was on set and had fallen asleep on the job. Getting up quickly, I apologised to the actress.

Running Man was filming in a newly opened departmental stall today. While the camera staff were setting up, I had taken a little kip on the comfy display set. Ji Hyo glanced over at me, concerned. “Shouldn't you be well-rested from your trip back home? Why do you look so tired?” She asked. I was touched by her concern, and quickly explained that I had a friend who had found a job here and while she looked at apartments, had to crash at my place for a couple of weeks.

You see, the thing about renting in Korea, is that one has to put down something called, “key money.” Which is pretty much a ridiculously large deposit. My tiny one-bedroom duplex apartment cost me 8 grand and is one of the cheaper ones I know of. It was a lot of money to put down, so Yan needed to be certain about the apartment before parting with such a large sum of money. In the meantime, she needed a place to stay while she looked through her options.

“So, yeah... Sharing a tiny apartment with my friend. While fun, in theory, not so fun in real life. Especially when I have to work.” I explained, smiling wryly.

Smiling, Ji Hyo handed me her cup of Americano. “I know you don't usually drink Americano, but try it. You might be surprised.” Taking the cup from her, I sniffed the black liquid suspiciously before taking a mouthful. The hot, bitter liquid burned a path down my throat, warming up my insides on this chilly morning.

I winced at the bitterness. Nope. Shaking my head, I handed the cup back to her. “I'm sorry, Ji Hyo. Americano... it just isn't for me. I like my coffee with some milk cutting through the bitterness. But thanks. This sure woke me up.” I said.

She pouted as she took back the cup. “Fine. The next time I won't share anything with you.” She grumbled. I laughed and nudged the actress. “Aww, come on. Don't be so petty. Sharing is caring, you know?” I teased, watching as she stuck her tongue out at me. It was childish... But cute. Too cute.

Clearing my throat, I tried not to focus on how adorable she looked at the moment; her red Elstinko cap askew, her eyes narrowed cheekily at me. I picked my brains, thinking of something else to say. “Well, if you ever go to Melbourne, I'll be sure to share with you a list of awesome cafés you can go to for great coffee. Australia's got a huge Italian migrant population, so you're bound to find nice cafés selling great coffee. Particularly in Melbourne.”

Wait? Were you just offering to be her tour guide in Melbourne?

No! I was–

You totally were!

I was jus–

“So, did you at least have a good time back home?” She asked.

I stared at her, my eyes wide. “I'm sorry. What did you say? I wasn't listening.” I admitted. She giggled, and I suddenly wished I had a career as a comedian. I wanted to make this woman laugh for the rest of her life. Wait what?! Ignoring the voices in my head, I fixed my gaze on her, focusing on her question.

“I asked if you had a good time back home.” Ji Hyo replied patiently.

The thought of Jess and that night popped into my head. I felt a twinge of guilt and wondered why. Pushing aside the feeling, I related the events of my recent trip back home. I told the Korean that it was boring. That I just hung out with my friends and ate. There really wasn't much to do in Singapore but eat. So I ate and ate. And for a change of pace, I ate some more. I devoured with gusto, all the foods that I missed. Hokkien fried prawn noodles, laksa, chicken rice. I even had my durian fix. At the mention of durian, Ji Hyo wrinkled her nose. It was adorable.

“Durian? The fruit that smells like used socks? And you eat it? You don't even like kimchi!” She exclaimed.

“Hey! Don't knock it till you've tried it!” I protested. “Besides... They are two totally different things! And in a way, very similar. In the sense that they are an ACQUIRED taste. I grew up having durian, while you grew up with kimchi.” I said, feeling amused by her reaction. Yup, the people of this country love their smelly preserved foods. I grinned cheekily at her