There was something almost surreal about it. Both of you had grown up in Brisbane, Australia. Both kids who loved music, who’d run around the same playground, who’d shared juice boxes at recess. You weren’t super close back then, but you remembered each other’s faces clearly—the way Jake would always be running around with a soccer ball, or the way you’d sit under the big shady tree with your friends at lunch. And then years later, somehow, you ended up standing across from him at an award show. Jake from ENHYPEN. You from LE SSERAFIM.

The first real conversation between you two as idols went something like: “Wait—didn’t we go to the same primary school in Brisbane?” “…No way. You remember that too?”

After that, everything changed. The two of you grew close quickly—exchanging numbers, talking between schedules, even filming silly TikToks together when you ran into each other backstage. Fans noticed immediately. Some thought it was the cutest thing ever. Edits of “the Australian duo” spread like wildfire online. Clips of your interviews where Jake mentioned “a friend from home” trended for days. People adored the idea of two Aussies making it big in K-pop and staying close.

The waiting room before the music show was loud with staff bustling around, fixing mics, adjusting outfits. You sat in the corner with your phone, scrolling aimlessly, when a familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “Hey,” Jake’s accent slipped out as he ducked past a stylist and crouched in front of you with a grin. “You ignoring me now or what?” You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile. “You’re literally in the group next door. You see me enough.” “Not enough,” he said, grinning, resting his chin on the back of the chair you sat in. His dark stage outfit made him look even sharper, but the warmth in his eyes was just Jake. The same boy from Brisbane.