Jiyong sat in a meeting, listening with half an ear to the others talk about merchandise sales, ticket prices, and other things he couldn’t be bothered to care about. His body was present, but his heart and mind were in his apartment with the girl who seldom left her room or spoke. Even when her family came to visit, she remained stoic. Her father hated him, her brother was awed by him, but at least her mother was grateful and supportive.

He tried so hard to connect with Sarang, to draw her out of her self-imposed shell. But even after three months, she still looked at him with dead eyes when he spoke to her and seldom spoke back. The only thing he seemed to have done right was buy her a laptop. For that, he received a softly uttered ‘thank you’.

He was brought back to the present by the sound of sliding chairs. The meeting was over and he hadn’t learned or contributed a thing. On his way out, YG stopped him to ask if everything was alright. To that Jiyong could only shrug and say he was working on it.

But then he experienced another moment of divine intervention. As Jiyong walked past one of the practice rooms, he heard an uproar of laughter. When he peeked in, he saw everyone’s favorite maknae telling an outlandish story to entertain them. At that moment, Jiyong knew what to do. He hung at the back of the room until the story was over and waved his hand to get Seungri’s attention. He led him to another room and cut to the chase. “I need your help.”

“Sure, hyung. Is a song giving you trouble?” Seungri asked and sat down.

Jiyong shook his head and remained standing. “I need you to befriend a girl.”

Seungri smirked rakishly. “It would be my pleasure.”

Jiyong shook his head again. “No, no. Not like that. It’s Sarang, the dancer that  . . . fell.”

“I thought she was back home with family?”

“No, she’s . . . she’s with me,” Jiyong disclosed while pacing. “I talked to her mom while she was in the hospital. She needed more care than her family could give her, so I moved her into my apartment.”

Seungri blinked slowly before speaking. “Hyung, that’s insane.”

“I know!” Jiyong cried and ran his fingers through his hair. “I just . . . I have to fix this with her. I caused this, I did this to her. Maknae, it’s heartbreaking. She lays there in the dark all day. She only leaves the room for therapy. She won’t talk to anyone, not even her family really. She barely eats. I’m worried about her all the time. I’m terrified that I’ll come home and--” he cut himself off and dropped his head. Seungri could tell where the sentence was headed.

“Have you tried talking to her?” Seungri asked sympathetically.

“She hates me, maknae. That’s not an exaggeration. She hates me and I completely understand why because I hate myself.” Jiyong sat down heavily and rubbed his hands over his face. He looked at his friend squarely in the eye. “Seunghyun-ah, you’re the friendliest person I know. If you can’t get through to her, I’m afraid no one can.”

Seungri soaked in what he heard and eventually nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

“No ing clue,” Jiyong admitted with a humorless laugh. “Just, I don’t know, talk to her. Get to know her, be a friend. Maybe she’ll open up to you.”

The younger man slapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll try my best, hyung.”

* * * * * 

When Jiyong got home that night, the first thing he heard was the too familiar hyena-like laugh of his bandmate. Laced with that was another laugh that he had never heard before. He followed the sound to the master bedroom and looked inside.

Seungri sat on the bed, legs crossed with a plate on his lap. Sarang was sitting up with the aid of the bed, a soda can in her hand. A box of fried chicken lay between them as they laughed at the TV screen. Seungri caught Jiyong’s movement from the corner of his eye and waved him in.

“Hyung! Come in, we’re just getting to the best part.” Seungri moved closer to Sarang and patted the bed for Jiyong to sit down. When Jiyong didn’t move fast enough, Seungri grabbed his hand and pulled him down. “Did you eat? We bought chicken. It’s her favorite.” And the box at him along with some napkins. “Sarang-ie, can you pass me a drink?"

Looking at him warily, it took a few seconds before she moved. Seungri handed it over to Jiyong without looking at him and continued to watch. “You’ve seen The Good, The Bad, The Weird, right hyung?”

“A few times,” Jiyong answered quietly.

“Sarang hasn’t, can you believe that? I thought everyone had seen it. Well, she’s not from Korea, maybe that’s why.”

“I was born here,” she corrected, “but we moved to Melbourne when I was five.”

“She used to have a family of koalas living in the trees in her apartment complex. Isn’t that so cool?”

“Yah! She’s never going to see the movie if you keep talking. Shut up.”

Seungri placed his hands on his heart, looking wounded. “You see how he treats me?”

“He’s right. Shut up,” she replied with a small laugh and no sympathy.

Seungri gasped dramatically. “You would take his side? After I bought you chicken?”

“You’re such a baby,” she joked.

“He really is,” Jiyong agreed.

“I guess I’ll just sit here and say nothing,” he pouted playfully.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Jiyong commented with a grin.

“Aish, I’ll roll it back since someone couldn’t be quiet,” she mumbled while reaching for the remote. When it got back to the part that she remembered, she started again. It was quiet in the room for mere seconds before they all laughed at the antics on screen.

Jiyong was awed. In a matter of hours, his friend had managed what he had not in months. Seungri controlled the situation and made her his friend by sheer force of will. Jiyong learned more about her since walking in the room than he had since she came into his home. Every time she laughed, his heart felt a little lighter.

Not wanting to draw attention, Jiyong slid his hand across the bed until it brushed against Seungri’s. Without looking away from the screen, he squeezed. S