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“I’ll need to book a flight… somewhere,” I faltered. “Back to the UK, I guess. Tonight I’ll stay here.” I eyed my suitcase. I hadn’t bothered unpacking it. “And tomorrow, I…” I paused, gathering myself before I could crumble any further. I forced myself to sit up a little straighter.

“Tomorrow, I’ll figure it out. I’ll get another hotel here in Seoul. I wanna be here for your final shows. Maybe I can even fly back for your show in Busan tomorrow.”

I frowned, trying to piece the logistics together. “Although I might struggle to get in, now that I’m on ENT’s shit list,” I laughed, but the sound was a little thin.

“Kaiya,” he said loudly, bringing my focus back into the here and now instead of on planes, and rent, and hotels.

“Stay in Seoul,” Jihoon said reassuringly. “I have somewhere you can go. It’s private, and you don’t need to pay.”

“Joon, I can’t stay at your apartment,” I objected, wincing, because knowing my luck, someone would spot me entering his building and give the internet more ammunition to fire against me.

“Not the apartment,” he said quickly. “Ky, I do not live there anymore.”

I opened my mouth to reply, and then shut it. I had wondered, but it had slipped my mind to ask.

“I have–I have a house, Ky.” He stumbled over the words, like they were difficult to say.

“A house? Like… a proper one?”

He laughed. “Yes, jagiya, a proper one. With doors, and windows, and stairs and–”

“Yeah, alright, I get it,” I laughed. “A real life house. Wow. That’s very adult of you.”

“I am a grown man, jagiya,” he said in a tone that made something low in my stomach clench, and I had to shake my head to clear it.

“Damn sexy magic,” I muttered.

“What?”

“Never mind,” I said quickly. “You have a house. And you want me to stay there?” I asked sceptically.

“Is that so hard to believe? That I want my girlfriend in my home?” he said roughly, like he enjoyed the way the words sounded together, and butterflies erupted in my stomach, momentarily chasing the air from my lungs.

Holy hell.

I blinked furiously for a moment, composing myself.

“Ky?”

“Sorry, yes.” I cleared my throat. “Yes. Yes, if that’s–if that’s okay, I’d love to.”

“Good. I want you there. It would make me feel better to know you’re somewhere safe. Somewhere mine. I’ll send you the address and my door code.”

Before I could reply, there were voices in the background of the call, and I heard Jihoon sigh. “I need to go. Can I call you after the show?”

As if he needed to ask.

“I want you to,” I said softly.

“Good. Saranghae, Ky.”

“I love you, too.”

October 8th

I pushed the gate leading into the courtyard open and stepped through, closing the heavy metal gate behind me before looking around. There was a sleek sports car in the driveway that I presumed was Jihoon’s, although I didn’t recognise it.

I looked up at the house. It was two storeys and pretty unassuming from the outside. Even the courtyard was a little sparse. A square of neatly-trimmed grass, and a pathway of pinkish stone slabs leading up a wooden deck.