I found myself standing in line to aboard the Mugunghwa. I stared at the ticket in my hand, reading the word ‘Busan’ over and over again as if to convince myself that I am actually embarking on this trip is positively against anybody’s better judgment. “You know how I feel about this but my phone is always with me, so you know what to do,” Han Na had said before we parted ways last night, and it made me wish she’s boarding onto this train with me.

I found my seat and quickly sat down, staring out the window as I took in the hustle and bustle of passengers in the cart, shuffling to get situated in their seat. In previous train trips, I would immediately use my iPod to tune out all the noise as I enjoyed the ride. But music has almost become some sort of an enemy. It no longer provided that escape, but rather an unwelcome reminder of things I want to leave behind.

I felt anger rising within me as I felt the train move.

If only he didn’t like music so much…

“Junhoya…” I called out to the guy sitting next to me.

We were in the convenient store to grab a bite before we head home after a long day at school and hagwon. This had become a ritual for us - ramyeon for him, triangle kimbap for me; Cola for him, water for me; soft serve vanilla ice cream for him, bungeobbang ice cream for me. Our version of a three-course meal.

“Junhoya,” I tried again before finally elbowing him.

“What?” he asked, sounding annoyed as he pulled out an earphone out of his ear.

I sighed. “Do we still have to go to that concert tomorrow?” I asked him, trying to sound patient.

“Of course!” he said after slurping on his hot cup ramyeon, “I already bought the tickets. Why? Are you gonna ditch me?” he asked, sounding curt - typical Lee Junho.

I went back to my kimbap as I answered, “Well… no.”

“So why are you asking? It’s Leessang hyungnims! Why are you thinking twice?” he said before he continued eating. “Don’t you like their music? You said you like that song… uri jigeum manna~ manna~ a dangjang manna~ dangjang manna~” he began singing without hesitation. I couldn’t help but to laugh at his display of perhaps over-confidence as he began to breathlessly rap along.

“Okay, okay… I get it. Stop. You’re embarrassing me,” I finally said as I pulled him down. He gave me a quirky and obnoxious smile as he said, “You’re welcome.”

I rolled my eyes and gave him a weak shove as I focused back onto my kimbap. I was just about to take another bite when he turned and said, “Thank you for coming tonight.”

I smiled.

“May I see the ticket please?” I heard the conducter asked, snapping me back to reality. I handed him my ticket without a word, and only smiled when he said his thanks.

It had been the Summer of our last year of high school when we took our relationship to the next step. Or I guess… it was when one of us finally had the guts to verbally say the obvious and question the future.

We were having our usual after school three-course meal when I finally noticed his silence. Lee Junho had always been a moody guy - being his best friend for two years prior have taught me that there are some days where he’ll be completely silent as he’s immersed in whatever music or choreography he was learning at the time. So I was used to the occasional silent meal but that particular evening was especially heavy - as if a thick fog was encircling him and I.

The silence was growing louder and louder. I couldn’t focus on the kimbap in front of me as every single breath he took became the only sound I heard. Come on… just say something… a little voice in my head urged him. I felt tears threatening to spill past my eyes. I blinked and blinked and blinked and blinked and—

“It’s about what Mino said, isn’t it?” I finally blurted out. I’m convinced I might actually die if the deafening silence went on any longer. “I mean… you know him… just ignore it, you know? You don’t have to…”

“What?”

“Hmm?” I looked down.

We were having lunch together with our friends as we always do and eomma had packed some mandoo she had made with halmeoni yesterday. My favourite part of mandoo is the dough while Junho’s favourite is the filling, so it had become a mutualistic symbiosis of some sort when he scoops out the filling before handing the dough to me. It had become such a normalcy for us to do this that we didn’t think twice to what it would look like to others until Mino, one of our friends, sneered, “You two look like an old married couple.” It had taken me by surprise that I nearly choked on my mandoo and Junho was immediately silent. “Yah. Bae Mino! What are you talking about? Watch it!” my forced laugh was met with knowing smiles around the table before Mino continued to rant off about last night’s football match.

“What? I don’t have to what?” he asked again.

“You don’t have to take it seriously. I mean. You know him. He just says stuff out of and doesn’t think straight.”

I heard him sigh as he placed his chopsticks next to the cup noodle. “You know what’s funny…” he started. “I really like that picture of us,” he crossed his arms on his chest, “Of us as an old married couple.”

“You and I. Together,” he finished before picking up his chopsticks and continued eating.

For a second, it was as if time came to a stop - as if I also forgot how to breathe and my heart muscles forgot how to pump blood to the rest of my body. This is it… 

“I like it too,” I finally said and that was the beginning of him and I.

A/N: Hello, hello! Thank you for all of you silent readers that have been lurking around and reading this fic. This ty writer appreciates it  very much even if you don't comment *^_^* Anyway, you might be thinking, "Whaaat? No more angst? What happened, Sash?" Well, that is because I wanted some tonal shift in this fic to keep it from being too angsty and sad. I hope you don't mind the change. Also, if you're spotting some similarities between the relationship dynamic between Junho and Choi Rin with the two protagonists in Reply 1997, you win 100 points (hehe) because that is the kind of dynamic I'm going for. I hope you enjoy this chapter. See you on the next update!