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“I need to go,” he murmured into the side of my neck, his breath ghosting across my hair.

“I know. It’s okay.”

His body felt tense in a splintered sort of way, as though too many strings were pulling him in too many directions. I held onto him tighter, trying to keep him together.

“You don’t need to come,” he said falteringly, as though he needed to say it but did not want to. “It’s not expected of you. No one even knows you’re here.”

“Do you want me there?” I asked gently. There was no wrong answer. I would be what he needed.

“Yes.”

“Then I’m coming,” I said, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

He held me tighter, breathing me in for a moment before saying, “I’ll be back in an hour. I need to go home to change. I have a suit. It’s old, but it’s plain black and I think I have a tie. I might need to buy some socks, but–”

“Joon,” I cut him off, cupping his jaw in my hands and tilting his face down to meet my gaze. “It’s okay. Whatever you have – it’ll do.”

He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before he lowered his forehead down to mine. “I am glad you’re here, jagiya. I wish you didn’t need to be here, but I am glad you are.”

“Wherever you go, I go,” I said lightly, smiling up at him.

I wasn’t even really sure why I said it. It had seemed such a simple little reassurance while it was still on my tongue. But once the words were out, suspended on the breath between us, they seemed to expand in the time it took Jihoon to blink.

“Say that again,” he breathed.

I bit my lip. It wasn’t the words we hadn’t said to each other. Not repeated in the same, easy way we’d used to say them all those years ago. But the sentiment behind these words felt as close as we’d gotten.

“Wherever you go,” I said again in a voice somehow heavier, “I go.”

“Jagiya,” he rumbled, closing his eyes as his head dropped. “I don’t deserve you.”

I dipped my head to meet his lowered gaze, forcing him to meet my eyes. “You do. You do, Joon. I wish you saw what I see when I look at you.”

His eyes flicked between mine searchingly, like he was desperately looking for what I saw, but then he sighed, and closed his eyes. When he pulled back there was a composure there that hadn’t been a moment before.

“I need to go. I’ll be back soon.”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead and turned away.

In the time it took Jihoon to come back, I had agonised over whether it was appropriate for me to just turn up at a funeral – perhaps the most private kind of family event there was. I spent so long trying to look up Korean funeral customs that I had barely managed to get dressed in the only fully-black outfit I’d brought around the world with me – a black trouser suit and a pair of black and white Converse. I stood in front of the mirror, biting my lip, trying to convince myself I didn’t look too much like Doctor Who when the knock on the door came, and my time for panic was over.

We drove in silence to the hospital. In my rushed research, I’d learned that it was common for funerals to be held in dedicated halls attached to hospitals where the family would gather for the traditional three-day funeral period.

I’d seen such things in K-Dramas over the years, but it had never once occurred to me that I might actually have a reason to attend one.

I kept fiddling with my ring, spinning it round and round on my finger until Jihoon reached over, plucked my hand out of my lap and brought it to rest on his thigh.

The parking lot at the hospital was nearly full, but we found a space, and together we walked towards the well-signposted hall. It dawned on me that not only was I about to gatecrash a family funeral, but I was about to meet his parents for the first time. It seemed ridiculous that I’d only just thought of this, but with every step, my anxiety grew until eventually, I couldn’t stand it anymore.

I grabbed Jihoon’s sleeve, pulling him to a stop outside the nondescript building.

“Joon, I’m so sorry, I know this isn’t the time, but are you sure this is appropriate? I don’t want to intrude.”

He listened quietly, waiting a moment after I’d finished before stepping closer to me. He brought his hand up to cup my face.

“I loved her. I wanted her to know you. She would have loved you.” His voice hitched, but barely, as if the words hurt but the love inside the idea softened the pain.

I reached up to wrap my fingers around his wrist, just holding him.