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Afterwards, we sat on a wall overlooking the harbour, eating chips out of a paper wrapper.

“You really know how to show a girl a good time,” I said with my mouth full, warily eyeing up a seagull that kept moving closer.

Tae shrugged. “Didn’t realise I needed to try. I assumed my general countenance was impressive enough.”

I chucked a chip at him, but he caught it in his mouth. I let out a bark of surprised laughter, and he waggled his eyebrows at me.

“Okay, now I’m impressed.”

Wandering around Sydney with Tae was a breath of fresh air I’d sorely needed. There was no pressure to keep my thoughts to myself about how much the tour was taking a toll on me. He got it. In some ways being around him was easier than being around Becka. She would have forced me to confront my feelings about Jihoon by now, and even as well-meaning as that was, it could be exhausting when all I wanted to do was shove my feelings in a box and pretend they weren’t there for a while. Tae asked me once if I wanted to talk about it. I had said no, he’d said ‘okay’ and that was that.

Sol8 was on a break in between comebacks. He and a few other group members were in Australia to film a getaway show. It was something that never failed to baffle me. They were technically on holiday, but most of it was being filmed for content. It hardly seemed like a holiday, but it was considered normal.

Tae was in Sydney to visit his mum and aunt before they started filming, which is how our schedules managed this monumental alignment.

We passed the rest of the time just ‘shooting the shit’ – as he always called it. We talked about his mum, my mum, his tour, my tour, and none of it was weighted any heavier than it needed to be. He was like a vacation in the middle of my packed schedule, and by the time we said goodbye at the end of the day I was feeling particularly warm and fuzzy towards the universe.

Later, I was downstairs in the hotel’s private dining room, eating a bowl of ice cream and reading a magazine when Jihoon found me.

I looked up as he sat down next to me. I couldn’t help the way my eyes instinctively ran over the room, always aware of who was around. There were a couple of dancers having a drink together, and though they initially looked up, they’d gone back to their conversation as though they didn’t care.

“Tired?” I asked as he leaned his head back against the cushions.

“Always,” he sighed, and it was such a familiar response, that in the time between one blink and the next, we were on another sofa, in another country, in a time where two worlds had collided for a little while.

“I saw your photos,” he said quietly, turning his head to look at me.

It took me a moment to realise he meant my social media. I’d taken a few pictures today. Nothing incriminating.

The ferry. The Sydney Opera House. Chip-stealing seagulls.

“Did you have a good day?” he asked, sounding like he really wanted to know. Like we were just a couple of colleagues. Or friends. Or, maybe, two people who hadn’t decided what we were.

“Yeah,” I admitted with a smile. “I got the local’s tour of the city. It was nice to just get away, you know?”

He looked rueful, and it occurred to me then that of course he knew what it was like. On the occasions where he can walk down the street and not have to worry about people recognising him, it must feel so freeing.

“Who did you go with?” he asked, his eyes darting away, like he was embarrassed to even be asking the question, but couldn’t help himself.

I paused, debating what to say. If I should admit it, or keep it from him. And then, perhaps because I wanted to see his reaction, or because I was tired of hiding, I said, “Min Taeyang. He and some of Sol8 are in the city on a break.”

I watched his throat bob, but he just nodded, and I suspected he might have known. They were both in ENT, after all. “Did you–did you have fun?”

It was such a normal question that it momentarily caught me off guard, and I realised it was because I’d expected him to have a negative reaction. Because that was what had happened on every occasion I’d so much as said Tae’s name in his presence.

“Yes,” I said hesitantly.

He nodded. “Good.”

I watched him, waiting for his reaction. Good? Just good? He watched me back. I forced myself to look away, and ate a spoonful of ice cream.

“I did not realise you were still friends,” he said in a tone that suggested he was measuring his words, like they weighed more than this conversation. As if he was explaining his reaction to seeing his name on my phone that last night in Brazil.

My spoon clanked against the bowl.

“We never stopped being friends. Well,” I said, drawing out the word. “We did, for a while. When you told him not to talk to me.” I shoved another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth, taking a measure of satisfaction in the way he flinched.

He didn’t try to deny it, at least.