Seohyun’s eyes, once so distant and furtive, sought him out one last time through her building’s sliding glass door as she stepped into the elevator and turned to press the button for her floor, her gaze lifting. Cold condensation from the cool winter night blurred her face slightly through it, but as the heavy chrome elevator doors closed he didn’t miss the drawn features of her face, the luminous glare of her tears, and her frail smile as she lifted her hand in a last farewell.

And then she was gone.

Yonghwa turned away, shivering as a cold breeze from the Han river blew through his coat and penetrated the layers beneath. Sticking his hands into his coat pockets, he curled his shoulders in on himself and walked towards the waiting van that would take him home.

He heard the producers’ “It’s a wrap,” and slowed, turning back around with a sigh but a fixed smile for their benefit. The cameramen were hoisting their gear off their shoulders to place it in cases in the MBC van nearby.

“Thank you for your hard work!” rang cheerfully out in the night from the various staff members. “Let’s have a hot meal and drinks!”

Assents greeted the producer’s suggestion, and Yonghwa jolted when his manager clapped him on the shoulder. He tore his gaze away from the building where he’d been guessing which lit apartment window housed Seohyun and the other girls’ dorm. “Hey, buddy. Wanna join them?”

She’d gracefully declined earlier in the day, claiming she had an early schedule the next day, but had thoughtfully brought small individual gift bags to thank the staff for treating her well throughout the year.

Yonghwa hadn’t been so thoughtful and hadn’t planned ahead. If anything, he’d figured it’d be too late by the end of the shoot, and everyone would be too tired and head straight home. Apparently, it wasn’t so.

Shrugging at his manager, Yonghwa edged carefully. “I’m wiped, hyung. But tell them dinner’s on me.”

At least he could redeem himself somehow.

Eyebrows shooting up, his manager lowered his voice. “You sure? Their livers are made of steel or something,” he said, gesturing with the universal sign for getting sloshed. He’d befriended some of the crew and gone for drinks a few times during the year and had once passed out worshipping the porcelain gods.

“I’ll manage.” Besides his monthly stipend from FNC, royalties from his songwriting credits were starting to pile up nicely. A lot went towards the dorm’s rent, clothes, skincare and extra niceties, but his parents were adamant that he save and invest, so he put some aside every month and so far hadn’t touched that money.

His hyung clapped him on the back and then Yonghwa heard the tinkle of his keychain as it went airborne at him. He caught them by sound. “All right,” Donghoon said with a resigned shrug. “Start the van, I’ll tell them you’re a sack of but a generous one at least.” He grinned, walking away.

Yonghwa trudged over the icy sidewalk to his band’s van. Unlocking it, he slid into the front passenger seat like he usually did when it was just him and Donghoon, and reached over to start the car and blast the heater. As he did, he caught sight of the building once more, and sighed as he straightened, lowering his seat back in frustration.

Dragging his hand down his face, he distantly remembered his dermatologist reprimanding him for how bad his skin had gotten in recent months. When she’d wondered whether he had any additional stressors in his life recently he’d literally laughed at her. From crazy local schedules to promoting abroad to composing new songs and rehearsing through it all, and adding a fake marriage to the nation’s darling maknae to the mix where he’d been under vicious scrutiny by fans and anti-fans… All in all, it was a wonder his face hadn’t imploded in on itself.

Yet now at least the fake marriage was over.

To be honest, though, he… wished it wasn’t. Something like that. The cameras and the scrutiny, yes sure he was glad to be done with. But meeting with her like normal people? No…

Yonghwa lifted his hand and turned it over, observing the silver ring he’d just realized was still there with bleary eyes. “.” He should have given it back to her.

The simple silver band twisted around his finger as he thumbed it. His skin had faded under the band, and though it wasn’t tight, his skin puckered around it, a testament to how long he’d been wearing the thing, afraid he’d lose it if he took it off even to shower or do chores.

She’d replaced her cheap chrome ring with a silver one to match his new one, a thinner band with a tiny iridescent pink-and-blue alexandrite inlaid into the metal. Their birthstone. He would’ve rather a solitaire for her, and her cheap ring had sort of been one, but he assumed she didn’t want her new ring getting stuck in her clothes.

Practical Seohyun. Thoughtful Seohyun. To a fault.

Teary eyes materialized from his memory, and he swallowed the lump that seemed to have lodged itself into his throat.

In the crisp windblown night, she’d been soft when she’d buried herself into his arms, her scent by then embedded into the scarf he’d painstakingly knitted for her. Something sad and unspoken had lain between them then, and he’d rubbed his cheek on the pink wool, the soft puffs of her breaths playing with the fine hairs at his nape.

The closest they’d ever held.

Slam! “All right, buddy,” Donghoon said jovially as he settled in and buckled up, unaware of the mini heart attack he’d just given Yonghwa. “Let’s get your sorry back home. I’m surprised you didn’t want to drive.”

Yonghwa grunted as he fell back, watching the Han river blearily as they whizzed past towards his dorm. “I’m tired, hyung.”

His manager glanced sideways, his easy grin fading into concern. “Fair.” He leaned forward, flicking on the radio to fill the rest of the ride.

#

Faint strums drifted from Jonghyun’s closed door as he and Donghoon entered. Minhyuk and Jungshin’s room was quiet, the only sound that of Jungshin’s white noise gadget that both maknaes swore on.

Donghoon clapped Yonghwa on the shoulder as he put his coat away. “Don’t stay up late; boss wants to see you at 10 tomorrow.”

Nodding, Yonghwa glanced at his watch, the movement bringing his ring into view once more. He cut his gaze away, cleared his throat as what his hyung had said registered once more. “Just me?” It could be about any one of many things: band business, his upcoming drama Heartstrings, or anything in between. Then ag