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“Nope, you’re a lightweight. Deal with it.” Jihoon yanked the blankets away ruthlessly, earning a whimper from Miyoung.

“Come on, I made bugeoguk,” Jihoon said, too cheerful for her liking.

Miyoung finally smelled the savory scent of the soup and sat up with her eyes still closed.

She followed him out to the living room. The night before, she hadn’t noticed the space, but it looked exactly the same as she remembered. The low, lumpy couch, begging to be sat upon. The kitchen nook was small, perhaps with more dirty dishes than before. Bookshelves still littered with picture frames. And bujeoks fluttering like bright yellow flags along the door frame.

Miyoung sat at the low table, weathered and well-used. It held two bowls of pollack soup. She let the steam hit her face.

“Best cure for a hangover,” Jihoon announced. Dipping a spoon into Miyoung’s soup, he lifted it to her lips. She slurped up the salty broth obediently. It was a good balm for her sore throat.

“I never knew you could cook.” She took the spoon from him and scooped up more soup eagerly.

“I’m more than a pretty face.” Jihoon winked.

“Oh good, I see your old sense of humor is intact.” Miyoung scowled, but inside her heart swelled.

Jihoon chuckled and started to eat. On the couch was a crumpled pile of pillows and blankets. He must have slept out here and given her his room.

His hair was a mess and his cheek was creased from the pillow. There was a hole in his shirt and his pants were frayed at the hem. He still had a sleepy look in his eyes, but he’d woken up early enough to prepare a whole meal. In this moment, he was the most handsome boy she’d ever seen.

“Thank you.” Miyoung couldn’t stop staring at him.

“Sure thing,” he mumbled, obviously embarrassed at her sudden attention.

“Is it weird that I missed this place? Even though I’ve onlybeen here once?” The words were out before she thought them through. And with them she remembered what had happened the last time they were here. On the very same couch he’d slept on. A flush rose up her cheeks.

Jihoon coughed nervously, making it clear his brain had gone to the same memory.

“It’s weirdly normal to have you here.” He spooned up another bite. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“I can leave...”

“No, stay. I think it’s time we can let the past be the past. I can’t stay mad at you forever. I actually realized this because of Junu. Who’d have thought?”

“What did he say?” Miyoung didn’t like the idea of feeling gratitude toward Junu, but she had to admit the dokkaebi was fairly persuasive.

“He made me realize I couldn’t blame you for loving your mother. I love my halmeoni. I’d do anything for her. And you’d do the same for Yena. I can’t be mad at you for listening to her and leaving. I think it was just an excuse, really. When you’re so used to people leaving, you start to think something might be wrong with you. It was easier to be mad at you than to feel like I wasn’t good enough yet again.”

Miyoung didn’t know what to say, but she was saved from having to reply by the ring of Jihoon’s phone. His eyes moved from the screen to Miyoung, and she knew who was calling.

“Answer it,” she told him.

He swiped the screen. “Hello?”

Jihoon listened a moment, his lips pursed in concentration. He answered only in a series of yeses and nos. Which frustrated Miyoung with its vagueness.

Finally, Jihoon placed his hand over the mouthpiece. “He wants to come over.”

Her first inclination was to say no. To say he’d had nineteen years to come see her. She opened her mouth to say so. “Yes.”

Jihoon hesitated, his brows lifting for final confirmation.

And she paused as well. Did she want to see her father? He’d left her before she could even know him, but he’d looked at her yesterday with such yearning. The look she’d probably dreamed of seeing a dozen times without realizing it.

Jihoon waited patiently, watching her with understanding eyes. She knew she’d regret it if she refused him.

Miyoung nodded, sure of herself now. “Tell him to come over. I want to see him, too.”