The city is stunningly ordinary as it folds around her. The thick blanket of darkness that had descended over the city had absorbed the pale glow of the dying sunlight and replaced the emptiness with the automatic glow of the street lights and LED advertisements. She is bathed within the pink tinge of artificial light promoting a hand cream she doesn’t give a damn about. Home had just become a whole lot less “homier” in her mind.

She glances around her, the streets filled with other passengers who had also exited the 303 train from Seoul. On her left, the bus station is overcrowded with people who squabble for a seat among the already over capacitated buses that impatiently cough out smoke. The grey puffs are like miniature clouds that foretell of a long struggle soon to take place. She turns her head to the right. The row of automobiles lined up along the curb in a mismatched pattern brings a weary smile to her face. Slowly but surely, the vehicles spit out their contents. Families, friends and lovers escape from the cars and reunite with those who had been forgotten for days, months and years. Whether it was by land or sea, the past seems irrelevant as all halves become whole in the one picture. A hushed sigh escapes from her lips.

Pulling out her phone she dials the first number she is sure will not ignore her. The numbers do not magically sprout into her mind. The strange lines and curves are as foreign to her as English written in long hand. But before she can doubt herself, her thumbs mechanically tap in the digits and press the call button. Pressing the phone against her ear she waits.

On the third ring, the redundant noise halts to be replaced with a man’s baritone. The voice is worn from age but spirited by nature. It brings a lilt to her smile.

“Dad?”

“Hyerim! You’re in Busan already?” He asks with a joyous spring in his tone.

“Yes. I tried to catch an earlier train but it looks like everyone’s coming home early these days,” she sighs. “Anyways, would it be alright if you could pick me up? I’m at the train station.”

A brief pause is taken before he answers, unsurely and hesitantly. Disappointment should not be in his or his daughter’s vocabulary. “We were expecting you tomorrow so your mother went to take Minki out to his friend’s house and they won’t be back until late. And I can’t leave the house because the lock on the door broke. Is it okay if you catch the bus home?”

She puffs out an unstable breath and watches the exasperation flow out of in the form of temporary fog. She shivers a bit, reminding herself that it is still winter and she is still standing alone on the footpath. “All the buses are full. And the taxis are being taken up so quickly,” she begins. “But it’s okay. I’ll just wait until the buses aren’t as crowded. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be home soon.” She finishes with a light hearted smile. Gentle like the feathery lightness she had felt stepping off of the train.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You just wait for me okay?”

“Okay. I’ll see you when you get home. I love you.”

A subconscious feeling riots within her at his final parting words. She had longed to hear them, words that expressed enough without having to say much, yet, now, after hearing them, all she craved was to feel them. She responds automatically. “I love you too.” The dial tone beeps nothingness into her ear and she is left again on the pavement.

The usual volcanic burst of optimism that would flow out of her parabolic eyes is weakened as she stands alone. It’s the sudden tang of euphoria that she is waiting for. Something that is only made tangible through the texture of home-made kimchi and her brother’s boyishly cute nature. With more “happier” thoughts in mind she spreads a neutral expression on her face and teeters back and forth on her heels as the minutes tick by slower than sand within an hourglass.

“Excuse me, are you Jung Eunji? Could you sign this for me?” The deep voice inquires. It is somewhat eager yet all too familiar. She sighs quietly in frustration. Although she wasn’t completely disguised she hadn’t expected anyone to actually recognise and bother approaching her. She was only Eunji. Well, at least a makeup-less dialled down version of her.

She spins to face the anonymous figure. He has a hand sticking out, palm up. A candlelight flicker of recognition makes a brief appearance in her eyes before she smacks him on his toned arm. A flurry of insults and snappy comebacks pop into her mind like transparent soap bubbles only to be immediately pricked. Despite wanting to rival the man’s cockiness, she cannot help but allow a twinkle to return to her eyes and a cheeky grin to sneak onto her face.

“Well, I would give you my autograph but I don’t sign hands,” she states before swatting his open palm away with a bit too much force. “It’s nice to see you again Hoya.”

Rubbing his palm that is becoming a glowing crimson he flashes his set of pearly whites that are toothpaste commercial worthy. “It’s nice to see that you haven’t changed a bit.”

They stand together. Two fresh faced career-pursued young adults. Him, sporting a pair of purple Nike Airs and her, hidden underneath the stuffing of a coat she doesn’t remember buying but doesn’t mind wearing. His eyes are hidden under the reflective sunglasses that are tinted in a latte colouring despite it being night. She considers telling him off but he has just as much a reason to hide as she does.

“What are you doing back home so early anyways? I thought you had a schedule on for the whole week?” She’s actually, for once, curious at why he has returned. With his booming popularity and the never-ending list of offers, his sudden appearance is suspicious.

“It’s not early. It’s already the 22^nd. And I already finished playing my part in all of those schedules. I’m done for the next two weeks.”

She scoffs at his laid back attitude. He would never be done, even if “done” only applied to a temporary period within his life. Done was not anything that either of them would experience until they had publicly declared they were done.

They stand together in the cold as their eyes trail after figures entering vehicles and driving away in a storm of chemical fumes and red tail lights. The night is still chilly to Eunji and the only notion that is twirling around within her head and taunting her from every angle of her peripheral vision is, “you should be home already.” Her smile diminishes into a lip bite as she counts the people that board the next green bus. When the number surpasses thirty four she gives up and returns to watching her right where even more joyous families are celebrating the homecoming of their loved ones. She sighs.

“I’d ask what you’re still doing here and why you’re looking around everywhere but I think I have a pretty good idea,” Hoya begins. “Need a ride?” Now when she glances at him a set of keys is orbiting around his pointer finger. Pale steel with a tint of pink from the sign behind them, she declines his offer as graciously as possible. But he doesn’t take no for answer. A good five minutes of cheek pinching on his behalf and a few flicks on hers conclude with him abandoning her on the pavement as he had found her. He chuckles wholeheartedly as she trails behind him like a sulky child. Once again, his powers of persuasion have left her to be a set of keys spinning around his finger.

With her pride tainted and her face rosy she complains to him that the weather is too cold to be that mean. When they reach his car, small in size and even smaller in foot space, he doesn’t apologise but opens the door for her. Eunji doesn’t regret taking up his offer.

It’s just the two. They’re neighbours because they share the same hometown. They’re stars because above the rest they are left to shine in the glory that they’ve bled for. They’re friends because despite being at odds, they understand each other too well. Both wouldn’t call the bond friendship as much as it is acquaintanceship. But when they are put together, they can’t help but ease into a comfortable norm as his car drifts between the white lines and they belt out “The Chaser” to forget what they’re missing out on, even if it’s just for a while.