The night bus to Busan was packed.
Noa and Ren barely made it in before the doors hissed shut behind them. Inside, the lighting was dim, the air smelled faintly of seaweed snacks, and every seat looked smaller than advertised.
"We got seat 12A and 12B," Ren read from his phone. "Window and middle."
Noa looked at the aisle seat beside theirs.
Already taken.
By a very fashionable woman in a hoodie, bucket hat, and sunglasses, sipping bubble tea like a queen.
Noa stared for a beat too long.
Ren leaned in. "What?"
"Don't look now," Noa whispered, "but that might be Lisa from BLACKPINK."
Ren *immediately* turned to look.
Lisa raised one eyebrow beneath her sunglasses.
Noa smacked his arm. "You looked!"
"She's literally two feet away, how do you *not* look?"
Lisa smiled politely. "It's fine. Happens all the time."
Noa nearly vaporized.
Ren gave a thumbs-up like a dork. "Your dancing is elite."
Lisa laughed softly. "Enjoy your ride," she said in fluent Japanese, then slid her headphones on.
They took their seats.
Noa tried to breathe normally.
Ren whispered, "She smells like money."
"Shut. Up."
—
The bus rolled out onto the dark highway.
It was a five-hour trip.
Ren tried to recline but accidentally elbowed Noa in the ribs.
She retaliated by shoving his seat button up.
He retaliated by slowly lowering his head until it *almost* rested on her shoulder.
Almost.
Not quite.
They stayed like that—half-touching, not touching—for a solid thirty minutes.
Then turbulence hit. Or rather, a pothole.
The bus bumped. Noa jolted forward.
Her head landed squarely on Ren's shoulder.
She didn't move.
Neither did he.
—
Outside, the city lights faded.
Inside, the world narrowed to shared breathing.
Their arms brushed. Her hair tickled his cheek. His hoodie warmed her side.
And slowly, almost imperceptibly, her head leaned more into him.
Not from exhaustion.
But from safety.
Familiarity.
Maybe… want.
—
"Are you asleep?" he asked softly.
"Mhm," she muttered, clearly not asleep.
He chuckled. "You're heavy."
She elbowed him weakly. "You're bony."
They went quiet again.
Then, after a long pause, she whispered, "I didn't expect any of this."
"The bus ride?"
"No. You."
Ren turned, careful not to disturb her head.
"What do you mean?"
She hesitated. "I thought you'd be the kind of person I'd want to escape after one week."
"Ouch."
"You talk too much. You joke at the worst moments. You hum weird songs when you're bored. And you make everything a bit... chaotic."
"And yet," he said, smirking, "your head is still on my shoulder."
"I'm cold."
"You have a hoodie."
"It smells like ramen."
"Still chose me over that."
Noa didn't answer.
Because he was right.
—
One row ahead, Lisa subtly glanced over her sunglasses.
She smirked.
Then opened her Instagram and posted a blurry photo captioned:
**"Two Japanese interns. Unaware. Cute."**
Internet: not ready.
—
Back on the bus, Ren finally spoke again.
"Do you ever think about what happens after this trip?"
Noa lifted her head slightly. "What do you mean?"
"Like... do we go back to pretending nothing's different?"
She looked out the window.
"I don't think I can go back."
"Same."
They didn't say more.
They didn't need to.
Because somewhere between Seoul and Busan, between stolen glances and shared silence—
Something had settled.
No labels.
No timeline.
Just a quiet understanding.
That maybe this wasn't just a series of coincidences.
Maybe this was the start of something real.
—
Noa slowly leaned back into him again.
This time, her hand found his under the shared blanket.
And this time, he didn't flinch.
He held it.
Not tightly.
Not urgently.
Just... honestly.
Lisa smirked again from the front row.
"Definitely dating," she whispered.
And hit "post."