I constantly check my phone as discussions take place but Namjoon stays silent. Finally, closing to 8PM, the group disperses.

 

“Bye guys!” We greet each other as we head our separate ways. I think about Namjoon, and then about Ray. Well, at least Namjoon has s, I think to myself. With fast-paced steps, I walk towards the subway station.

 

“Here.” Ray waves to me as I enter the bar. I nod back in acknowledgement and greet the owner, another friend of the band. He looks at me, at Ray and back at me again before shaking his head.

 

“The usual,” I order before sitting opposite Ray. To him, “What’s up?”

 

Ray takes a sip of his drink. “I want to quit the band.”

 

I am silent for a moment, but not shocked. This is not the first time Ray is saying something like this. I sigh.

 

“Woong is-”

 

“Not Namjoon,” Ray cuts me off. Well, this I’ve never heard him say before.

 

“Ray…” I watch him down his shot.

 

“I joined this band because of Namjoon.” Yes, Namjoon and Ray were the closest brothers. The fact that Ray can even stand being with me now is a miracle.

 

He continues to say, “I stayed even after… because I thought this is what he would have wanted. So that you can continue singing. We even recruited Woong to… to keep the band going. But then you decided to leave and… Byeol, there’s no more reason for me to stay anymore.”

 

I gulp down my drink in a big mouthful. “I’m sorry.”

 

“No… it’s not…” He hiccups. “I just… I can’t do it without Namjoon and you.”

 

Ray used to have serious stage frights, and would freak out whenever he had to stand in front of a crowd. Despite so, Namjoon once overheard him playing the guitar and singing alone in the music room and thought he was actually quite good. That’s when he decided to approach him. They became inseparable brothers, and as Namjoon helped Ray overcome his fear, The Cupids came about.

 

“Is it coming back?” I look at Ray in the eye. He blinks away the contact, confirming my doubts. “Ray…”

 

“I know you’re not coming back anymore. And I… just really can’t.”

 

“I don’t suppose Woong knows, does he?” I take another mouthful of bittersweet liquid. Ray shakes his head discreetly. I think about it for a while.

 

“Are you quitting because you don’t want to perform anymore, or you can’t?”

 

Ray slowly turns his gaze back onto me. “I… can’t. Whenever I think that Namjoon and you are not there, I…” He buries his head in his hands.

 

“But you want to sing, don’t you?”

 

Silence.

 

“Not without you,” he says finally.

 

I sigh again. “One more,” I sign to the bartender.

 

“Maybe we should tell Soo first.” Ray downs another shot. “She’ll know how to break the news to Woong.”

 

“No, don’t tell her anything yet.” The waiter brings my drink over.

 

“What? Why?”

 

“I’ll discuss with her.” She is, after all, the manager of the band. Grabbing my bag, I stand.

 

“Where are you going?” Ray watches as I drain my glass.

 

His issue isn’t urgent, at least not as disturbing as Namjoon being weird. “There’s someone I’m more worried about right now.”

 

Rushing off, I hail a cab at the main road and dial Namjoon on the way. Anxious after my call goes to voicemail thrice, I call Yoongi.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Is Junnie oppa with you?”

 

“I’m at the dorm. Namjoon is probably in the studio? Company building, the floor above the dance rooms.”

 

Without saying anything else, I hang up.

 

“Please drive faster,” I tell the driver after giving him the address of the building. The cab finally pulls over after a long fifteen minutes. Paying him, I run in. Luckily, the lifts were on standby at ground level so I get in and press the button to where Namjoon would be.

 

“Oppa,” I call out, peering into the rooms through the frosted glass. “Namjoon oppa!”

 

One look across the narrow corridor tells me that these rooms are empty because there are no lights on. I decide to call him but I am connected to voicemail again. Suddenly, music from outside catches my ear.

 

This is… oh! At the corridor window, I stick my head out and strain my ears. Kim Namjoon! Instead of the lift, I take the emergency stairs down instead and just as I thought, the room in the far end is lit with music coming from it. Running over, I stop short just before the ajar door. Inside, Namjoon is dancing with unstable steps, a sign of his continuous practice for only he knows how long. I breathe out heavily and slowly open the door as quietly as possible, not wanting to disrupt him. I catch his attention anyway and in his turn towards me, he trips over his own feet and falls. I run over.

 

“Oppa!” I try to help him up but his legs seem to be in jelly state now.

 

“How are you here?” He asks between pants.

 

“Shh, sit properly first. Here, lean on the mirror.” I half support, half drag him to the wall. I look around and spotting his bottle, I bring it over to him.

 

“Seriously, why did you come?” His voice is unexpectedly harsh. I say nothing but frown when he chokes on water.

 

“Drink slowly,” I tell him, patting his back. He furrows his brows and looks away, unwilling to meet my gaze. From sitting on my heels, I change to a cross-legged position. With his legs straightened out, we sit like this in silence for quite a while.

 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Namjoon says softly, looking down into his hands. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

 

“You think I want to run here late at night? ‘Ah’? What’s with ‘ah’? You made me so worried and then send me to voicemail so many times…”

 

Namjoon’s head snaps over, a slight smirk on his face. “You were worried about me?” I look away, embarrassed that I had voiced out my thoughts without meaning to.

 

“Sorry, my phone was on silent mode,” he says. “And sorry for making you worried.” Still looking down, I see the shadow of his hand reach over and then retract. I turn up to face him, his expression a mirror of his internal conflict. His eyes are a mix of emotions – fatigue, relief, sadness, and… something undecipherable. I search his orbs just as his look in mine.

 

“What are you thinking about?” I ask finally. There seems to be a lot on his mind but I just can’t seem to read it.

 

“You, Lee Byeol.” Again, his hand reaches across but this time, he lets it caress my face. “I’m so glad you’re here with me now.”

 

“Oppa…” Tears well up in his eyes as he tries to keep them from falling. Despite the effort, a stray tear rolls down his cheek. Namjoon sniffs and turns away to wipe the tear away, a trigger for yet another bead to fall. I scoot closer and catch his oncoming tears with my thumb.

 

“Can you look away for a second?”

 

“No, you look at me.” I tug on his arm to make him face me again.

 

My heart wrenches his distress and without much thinking, I pull him into a hug. Namjoon tenses for a moment but wraps his arms tightly around me, his face buried into the crook of my neck. I rub his back in what I hope is comfort. In my arms, I hold him until he finally calms down. The pressure on my shoulder is lifted but Namjoon doesn’t let go so neither do I loosen my arms around him.

 

“Let’s just stay like this for a bit longer,” Namjoon says, his voice hoarse.

 

“Hmm.”

 

“But then, Byeol.” There is hesitance in his tone. “Do you like guys who are good at dancing?”

 

“What?” Taken aback by his sudden question, I pull back but he keeps his hold on me.

 

“Just answer me like this. Do you like guys who can dance well?”

 

I’m not sure what he’s hoping for but I answer honestly. “Guys who can dance well are charming.”

 

“Then what about me?” Namjoon releases me from his hug.

 

“What about you?”

 

“I can’t dance well but still, will you like me?” 

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