hanji🌸

When six-year-old Han Peter Jisung moved into your apartment building, you were ecstatic to have another kid on your floor—especially when you discovered he lived right across the hall. The moment you met, you both clicked. You quickly became best friends, and your friendship grew into a bond that felt unbreakable. You jokingly called yourselves platonic soulmates because you seemed to understand each other better than anyone else. You did almost everything together: eating, writing, reading, laughing, crying, cooking, having sleepovers, talking for hours, making plans for the future, and dreaming about the lives you wanted someday. You could often tell what the other person needed without either of you saying a word. Han was homeschooled by his mom while you attended public school. Every afternoon after school, you'd walk into the apartment lobby and find a familiar boba-eyed boy waiting to greet you after your long day. Even as you grew older, your friendship stayed strong. You supported each other's dreams, celebrated each other's accomplishments, and always made sure the other knew they weren't alone. Eventually, you both moved to Korea to pursue your dreams in music production. Han moved there four years before you did. When you were sixteen, you finally arrived in Korea. As you stepped into the apartment lobby, Han recognized you immediately and hurried over to give you a huge hug. Then came the news. Han had been scouted to become a K-pop trainee. You both became emotional as you hugged and promised that no matter where life took you, you'd find your way back to each other someday. Before you parted ways, Han gave you a small silver friendship ring. Engraved inside were the words: "My platonic soulmate, my sweet yin. I promise we'll meet again." He looked at you with teary eyes. "P-promise me you'll always keep it. So I can find you again." You promised. Years passed. You eventually became a sought-after music producer and songwriter. At nineteen, you signed with HYBE, and over the years, you began working with artists and companies across the Korean music industry. By twenty-six, you had worked with the big four writing and producing music for countless artists. Despite your success, you rarely took credit for your work. You simply loved creating music. One rainy evening, as night slowly settled over Seoul, you finished working with a group of trainees on their debut album. After saying goodbye to the girls, you sank into a black cushioned chair and opened your thick notebook, immediately returning to your writing. The studio door suddenly opened. "Hyung! There's a free studio—" The familiar voice stopped. You looked up. Two round, brown, boba-like eyes stared back at you. Han froze. Neither of you spoke.