A knock at the door startled Seohyun as she brushed her teeth. Spitting, she called out quietly, wary of waking Mrs. Jung. “One moment.” His mother had fed them bibimbap before excusing herself to bed since she had an early meeting the next day.

Rinsing , Seohyun cracked the door open to find Yonghwa standing just outside, neatly folded pajamas in hand. “Hi,” she said softly.

“I think this might fit you,” he said, proffering bright Simpsons themed pajamas at her. He was wearing more tame, plaid flannels that she guessed were his dad’s judging by the slightly too-large fit. His hair was mussed by static.

They hadn’t packed overnight bags since the shoot hadn’t been supposed to run that long. They’d missed the train back to Seoul, though, and the crew had managed to snag accommodations at a hotel near the KTX station. Yonghwa had pointed out that his parents had two vacant rooms since his brother was in Daegu for school. Seohyun could take his old room and he’d take his brother’s. So now here they were, no microphones or cameras, just a quiet apartment with his mother sleeping nearby.

Seohyun took the pajamas with a little bow. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He nodded at the clothes. “Those were my favourite. I wore them as soon as they were dry from the wash.”

“I will wear them well,” she assured him softly.

#

She startled again when a knock came at the door. This time she was sitting in his childhood bed, reading one of the books she’d found on his desk. “Come in,” she called out, putting it face-down on the bedspread in front of her.

The door snicked open, and he appeared, looking awkward as he glanced around his old room, his gaze finally landing on her. “Is everything okay? Do you need anything?”

“I am fine.” She touched the book, embarrassed that he’d caught her red-handed. “I hope you do not mind. I like this story.”

Stepping in closer, he tilted his head to read the title on the spine. “Oh, yeah. It’s a good one. And don’t worry about it.”

She tilted her own head at him. “I feel like I am discovering a new layer of you.”

She gestured around the room, at the old textbooks and photographs on his desk, at his first guitar sitting in the corner, at the British and American band posters on the walls. A rock and pop CD tower. A track and field award from school. School band sheets. And books. Mostly for literature assignments. Not the one she was reading, though. That one he’d actually liked. About magic and fantastical creatures. He’d liked tall tales when he was younger. Somehow he wouldn’t have thought she’d like it. That made two of them, discovering new layers.

He looked back at her, suddenly uncomfortable in his own room.

“Thank you for today,” she said in the quiet. “Busan is wonderful. I had a lovely time.”

He nodded. So did he. He wished they could have done more, that he could have shown her more, shared his pride in his city that was so much more than just a port and a beach. There was the Busan Aquarium, the Gwanganli Bridge at night in all its colourful light displays reflected on the water, the BIFF square with its old movie theatres, Busan Tower and the nearby temple and museum, colourful Gamcheon cultural village, the Jagalchi fish market where you could have the restaurant above cook your purchase for you, and so much more. But it couldn’t be helped. So much to do, so little time. Maybe they’d have time for some sightseeing tomorrow, but he doubted it.

“I hope I was not a burden,” she continued. “You must have wanted to spend time more comfortably with your friends.”

Frowning, he took her in. She looked tiny even in his old pajamas, her frame failing to fill his clothes well. The butterfly necklace winked at , and he wondered if she’d take it off to sleep. “You weren’t a burden,” he assured her, coming to sit at her feet.

She retreated her legs furtively, crossing them under her under the sheets. Sometimes she reminded him of a squirrel, with how tiny and furtive she often looked and acted.

“It was a bit awkward,” he acknowledged, “but they were happy to meet you. Yeji said she’d like to hang out again.”

A hopeful smile brightened her face. “She did? I would like that, too.”

Silence gathered around them for a moment, before she gestured to the old nylon string guitar that sat collecting dust in the corner. “When did you start playing?”

“I found it at my grandma’s house in my mom’s old room. I must have been… nine maybe?” He went to pick it up off its cradle, then sat back down to tune it automatically.

“Wah,” Seohyun uttered softly as he plucked and listened and tightened the strings. “It has a history.”

He hummed his assent, smiling at the used and abused patina under his fingers. “That’s why I keep it. One day I’ll hand it down to my kid and teach him or her. And I hope they’ll do the same. I think it’s important to pass down music, y’know?”

He looked up at the silence to find