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“Have you eaten?” She pressed.

“I had some fruit–”

“Journalists do not eat?”

Jihoon actually laughed, and I kicked his foot, which only made him laugh harder.

“Come and eat with us. You’ve worked hard today,” she said with more certainty than I really deserved. “Jihoon is driving me to the restaurant, you can come with us.”

My head snapped to Jihoon, not even bothering to hide my panicked expression, but he shrugged.

“Halmeoni came all the way from Busan. She did not tell me she was coming, and she did not come with my parents, so we will drive her.”

“Baek Jihoon-ah, I am still capable of getting on a train,” she scolded him.

“Your parents didn’t come?” I asked Jihoon, glancing around the room as if I might see them hiding behind the sofa. His lips thinned, and his feet bounced.

“Ani.”

Oh. I pressed my lips together.

“I came on my own,” Hwayeon said, as if confiding a secret, and I found myself grinning. She patted my knee. “Come, let’s eat. Unless you really do not?”

I gave in and laughed. “I eat.”

“Good. You can sit with me. Jihoon-ah,” she held out a hand, and Jihoon leapt to his feet, taking her outstretched hand and carefully helping her up, passing her a cane I hadn’t noticed was leaning against the sofa. She was shorter than me, and next to Jihoon she looked positively tiny. I felt the oddest sense of gratitude as I watched her – this woman who had stood up for him when he was barely a teenager. Without her, I couldn’t help but doubt that we’d all be standing here in this stadium right now.

He held my gaze as I stood up, and once more I couldn’t read his expression. The moment passed before I could figure it out.

We all drove to the restaurant together.

“Kaiya-ssi, you sit with me.” Hwayeon instructed, and I followed her over into a cluster of seats.

“Why do you seem uncomfortable?” She asked outright, and I huffed, caught between enjoying how forthright she was, and a little – as she pointed out – uncomfortable.

“I am not supposed to be this close to the group, usually,” I admitted, glancing nervously around at the staff members on the van with us – a couple of managers and security.

Hwayeon made a dismissive sound. “Why not?”

My lips twitched. “The company thinks I might try to pry secrets out of them.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Will you?”

“Maybe,” I shrugged, and she laughed.

“These boys are not kings, and you are keeping an old woman company.”

“We would keep you company, halmeoni,” Ace protested from behind us where he sat with Lee, leaning his head between the headrests.

“Kim Seokmin, if I wanted to hear about video games and mukbang, I would talk to you.”

Lee burst out laughing, rolling in his seat. Partially falling against Ace, while the maknae slapped at him. I hid a smile behind my hand, feeling something inside me loosen. I tried not to think on it too much.

Hwayeon turned to stare out the window, idly running her hand over a pretty, little brooch on her jacket lapel.

“This is beautiful,” I said, as I gestured to the piece. A jade butterfly on a little pink, enamel peony. It was small, but surprisingly detailed. Tarnished-looking in the way that old jewellery grew to be.

“It was my mother’s. My father gave it to her when they were married.”