Upstairs, the room that used to be Seungri’s has changed through the years. Things he had when he was a teenager are lying on closets and furniture that have been added afterwards, maybe in the attempt to transform it into a guest room. And yet, Jiyong thinks he can still feel young Seungri everywhere, small, clumsy and with glasses on his nose, who danced so well and annoyed him so much, who always drove him crazy, so much that for his whole life he’d never fallen in love with anyone else. Why are you so late, Seungri-ah?

Lost into his thoughts, Jiyong has stopped still on the door. Hanna’s gaze follows his expressions until she can’t take it anymore. She asks, out of the blue, with the voice of a child: “Are you two still together?”

Jiyong looks at her, surprised. “Why are you asking this?”

Hanna hesitates. “You haven’t come here, lately.” she murmurs, her eyes low.

She doesn’t really know how it happens. The next second, she senses Jiyong’s arms sliding around her shoulders, and she finds herself with her cheek pressed against his chest. She doesn’t move away. Their hug is a bit hallucinated, at least from Hanna’s side, who feels in a dream and doesn’t really understand.

Jiyong is the first to pull away, smiling softly. “Don’t worry.” he tells her. “I’m not going to leave. Whatever happens, I’m never going to let him go.”

Hanna nods. She gives