She was crying when we first met.

 

Whether you could call it a first meeting or not is up to interpretation; she didn’t notice me from outside of the alley. I remember how she fought against her own body, how she tried to suppress almost aggravated sobs. It was unnerving, so much so that I thought some of her hurt was pouring into me just from standing too near. I wanted to call out to her, but sometimes a crying person doesn’t want to be noticed. I didn’t want to embarrass her, so I continued down the street and back to the dorms.

 

From that moment on, she remained present in my thoughts. Her face was still vague in my memories, her hair having hung like a veil of protection. The only traits that were clear in my mind was the sound, the heartbreaking sound, of her cries and the koala character on her purse. It wasn’t a familiar character, but it told me at least that she must’ve liked koalas.

 

I knew two things: she was hurt, so very, very deeply, and she liked koalas.

 

Walking the streets of Seoul I found myself glancing at every woman’s handbag as I passed them. It was never long before the crowds formed, though. Things weren’t like before when I could leave the dorms in broad daylight without being made a spectacle. I wasn’t certain I’d ever find the koala girl again, and a huge sense of guilt was growing deep inside me.

 

Maybe if I continued to walk the same path as before, I thought, maybe then I could cross paths with her again.

 

Or maybe she would come to a fansign.

 

Or maybe a concert.

 

Or I could search the koala tag on instagram.

 

Weeks passed, and I never saw her again. Slowly, I began to think of her less, trying to accept that in that fleeting moment I could have impacted someone’s life for the better only to have let her wallow in her own despair. Regardless, there was some sort of enchantment placed on me; when I least expected it, she crossed my mind again. Always when I least expected it.

 

But in the quiet of the late afternoon, as I sat at the cafe down the street from the Pledis building, I saw that same koala character on a small handbag. And when I looked up, it was as if everything had stopped, as though I had willed it to.

 

I stood up and crossed the room to the register.

 

“My treat,” I said, having already presented my credit card to the cashier before she could find her wallet. She paused, turned to look up at me, mouth agape. I think she was somewhere between thanking me and trying to turn away my generosity. “I know this is sudden, but I’m Hwang Minhyun, and I’d like to share tea with you if it’s not too forward.”

 

 

---

 

 

She didn’t like tea.

 

Thankfully she’d already ordered her coffee and she agreed to sit with me at the cafe. There was quiet for several moments, but she continued to glance at me. As though she didn’t want to be obvious that she was staring. It was something I was used to, but I must admit my senses were a little heightened in that moment. All this time I had waited to meet her again, and here I was with nothing good to say.

 

“I hope this isn’t an issue but,” she began, her voice low and eyes peering around at the other people sitting in the cafe, “I know who you are.”

 

I smiled. “I did introduce myself.”

 

She couldn’t help but laugh, no matter how she tried to stifle it. “No, I mean that, I knew who you were even before that. I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

 

I shook my head. “Of course not.”

 

“I promise I’ll try to avoid a scene.”

 

“I appreciate that, but I don’t think there’s much helping it these days.” I wanted to sound as understanding and encouraging as possible. There was something so frail and shy about her and I was afraid if I wasn’t careful she might break. Even now, I couldn’t get the image of that sobbing girl in the alley out of my mind.

 

She stirred her straw around in her coffee, sighing with mild defeat. “I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am, but—”

 

I sat up. “No, I swear I’m not,” I trailed off, admittedly embarrassed at the notion of trying to persuade a complete stranger into bed with me.

 

She stopped stirring her coffee, sad eyes locked onto mine. “Then can I ask why a K-Pop idol is sitting here with me, a complete stranger?”

 

My heart stopped. I couldn’t tell her that I’d seen her crying that day and that it haunted me ever since that I just walked by as though I didn’t care. But if I didn’t tell her that, the two of us would only sit there awkwardly until Dispatch came to cause hell for both of us. Dispatch or sasaengs, and neither was an ideal option.

 

“Why were you crying?”

 

She blinked a few times, taken aback. “What?”

 

“A few weeks ago. In the alley. I saw you crying,” I trailed off, staring at my teacup, “whatever happened, it must have been bad. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”

 

It was almost as if the rest of the cafe had gone silent after I’d asked. Like the silence had become a thick fog that locked up the sinuses and threatened to asphyxiate us all. She fidgeted in her seat, fear in her eyes. Then she sighed.

 

“It’s hard to say.”

 

I sat up and absentmindedly began to write on my napkin. “Why? What do you mean?”

 

She frowned at me, and I swore I could see her exhaustion pulling down on her like an invisible heaviness. “You are one in a million, Hwang Minhyun. One person and millions will love and idolize you.” She paused. “And I am one in a million. One person lost in the sea of people. You could never understand.” With that, she stood and began to head towards the door.

 

In my panic, I grabbed her wrist. “Wait.”

 

Her dark eyes turned to face me, almost pleading with me to let her be.

 

I stood from my chair, the napkin still crumpled in my hand as I held it out for her to shake. “I’d like to try and understand.”

 

She looked down at my hand and then back at me. Slowly and weakly, she grabbed my hand and let me shake it and leave my crumpled napkin with her. I didn’t give her time to return it to me; I took back my hands and placed them in my pockets. “When you’re free, we should talk again.” I looked down at her uncertain grip on the napkin. “Don’t lose that, okay? Hold onto it.”

 

Reluctantly, and maybe even a little shyly, she nodded back at me and unfolded the napkin. She found my Kakaotalk id written messily inside, some of the ink having bled at the edges of the characters. She struggled to speak, again as though she wanted to say something in protest.

 

“I’ll talk to you again soon,” I said in farewell, as though by doing so it put such a future into motion with certainty.

 

 

---

 

 

One in a million.

 

She used this phrase all the time, even well into our relationship. On post-its, in texts, even in person, “one in a million” always came back. In relation to me, it was always positive and magical and divine. In relation to herself, it was desolate and hopeless and lonely. I would watch as the light in her eyes would disappear whenever she thought of herself, watch as she lit back up when she looked at me. The light in her eyes was never enough to light me up, though. I could only think about the sadness that filled her up.

 

“I really don’t like it when you take pictures of me,” she would say, always frowning, always on the verge of tears when she had to see herself through the pictures I took. Through the pictures anyone else took.

 

“Why?” I asked. Part of me knew, but I had to ask anyways.

 

She turned away, her hair falling into her face. “I don’t like being faced with the reality of what I actually look like.”

 

I frowned. “What’s wrong with what you look like?” I did my best to move her hair away from her face, but it only fell right back down like a barrier between us.

 

There was a crack in her voice. “My teeth are so crooked, and my hair is so dull and my features are so wide and strange. I’m so disproportionate and I can’t stand my smile. Especially next to you, I look like some kind of creature out of a cave.”

 

A sinking feeling swept through my chest and I almost thought I could cry. “Your teeth are adorable and your hair is so soft. No one else is shaped like you and your smile is like starlight. Do you just not like seeing us together?”

 

She shook her head. “No, it’s not that at all! I just…”

 

“You just what?”

 

Her voice had become even quieter, like a whimper. “I’m just waiting for the day when you realize you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

 

Her words hung in the air like a ghost. Part of me knew it wasn’t likely I’d be able to change her perspective on this, but I chose my response carefully anyways.

 

“That’s really unfair to say to me, especially when I’ve just now realized that I love you.”

 

She looked up for a moment, hesitant to believe me, or maybe she didn’t quite understand. So I explained myself.

 

“I was just thinking, before you starting going on about how you don’t like it when I take pictures of you, that I was definitely in love with you. All day, I think of things to talk to you about, of things to tell you that’ll make you laugh. Sometimes there are days between each time we can see each other and my head gets so full of things to tell you that it’s overwhelming. But I love every minute of it. Besides, do you really think I’m so shallow that I would fall out of love with you if a hair was out of place or if your teeth were crooked? That’s insulting, you know.”

 

Regretfully, I’m terrible at explaining myself. It didn’t come out right, it sounded so vague and sloppy and I knew her. I knew she’d take what I’d said and twist my words around until she found loopholes. And then I’d grow frustrated and a little mad and things would get awkward, and that in itself would only fuel her self-depreciating thoughts, and that thought made me more angry. Because I was so terrible at speaking. Because if I could just make her see what I see, maybe then she would believe she deserves to be happy.

 

 

---

 

 

Another month had passed.

 

Promotions with the group had started and our time together became scarce, as I knew would happen. There were times I tried to justify cutting sleep to see her, but we both knew it was a bad idea. Not only for my health, but socially. If it was discovered we were dating my career ran the risk of plummeting and I could never forgive myself if she had to fall victim to bullying. Between promotions, meeting up was more realistic, but when camera’s were on me ruthlessly during promotions? It was practically out of the question.

 

I did love my job, though. It was my passion, everything I ever wanted. There was a time I thought I might have to give up on it, but you won’t catch me saying I don’t believe in miracles. Not after 2017. Everything changed then.

 

But there are always shadows if there is light. I value genuine character and truth, but this industry is not forgiving if you don’t meet the standards. I hate the forced smiles, the lying by omission, the strategic product placement and the endorsed outfits via airport fashion. It’s not all totally a lie, but it’s a horrible skewed version of the truth that becomes a lie. It’s me without being me, at least in my experience. I do what I can to maintain most of myself. But when it comes to other idols? I’ve seen them take off a mask the minute they step off stage, seen their personalities change into something unrecognizable. Seen them feign friendships for the sake of publicity or company image. And it’s all so gross. And lonely.

 

By the end of the promotion schedule, I’ve put my mind in a place that can function in all of this. Like a mannequin, of sorts. Like I said before, it’s not totally unlike me, just a very flat and controlled version of me. There is only so much of myself that I can offer publicly; in order to protect myself and my loved ones and to stay relevant in the public eye.

 

And by the end I am so exhausted. And it can be so difficult to come back from that mindset. I never had trouble falling asleep before; the endless hours of promotions and practice were enough to eat up all the energy my body had to offer, but after I’d met her, I found myself staring at the ceiling when I should have been sleeping. Not always from heart flutters, but just because it was nice to have something real, someone real to think about. Someone that didn’t ask me to be perfect, someone that enjoyed my imperfections.

 

As promotions went on, I thought more and more about these things. About how she always said I was one in a milion. About how she said she was one face in a crowd of millions. How lonely it was to live like that, how I couldn’t know what loneliness was like.

 

But she had no idea.

 

She had no idea how a shallow world could leave you feeling empty and scared. She had no idea how truly lonely I was in the spotlight.

 

 

---

 

 

“Did you get me pink because I’m a girl?”

 

I shook my head, smiling as I held out one of the ice cream cones fashioned to resemble koalas for her. One was pink and the other was white.

 

“No. The pink one is for me. I like pink.” Without another word, I put the top of the ice cream koala’s head into my mouth. She shook her head and took the white one, smiling. She was smiling more often, I noticed. It was exciting and hopeful.

 

It was the first time we’d gotten to see each other since my last comeback. Promotions seemed to last forever and we were already preparing for a concert. I just wanted more time in between, but this short break at least gave me enough time to see her again. That’s all I could ask.

 

“We should take a vacation together sometime.”

 

She turned to face me, as though she hadn’t heard me. “What?”

 

“We could go to Jeju. Take a boat out and, like, have lots of naps and read and watch movies and stuff. On a boat no one can bother us.” In hindsight, I didn’t realize how my words could be construed suggestively. Looking back on it now, I can see why she had gotten so flustered. Can’t say I regret it, though. It was adorable.

 

I don’t think she thought I was serious, either, but that night I started looking into renting a boat on Jeju for a weekend. I just wanted to be with someone that I didn’t have to be perfect in front of. I was so tired of perfectionism. There was no life in it.

 

After all the searching, I’d gotten myself excited for the day and I grabbed my phone and began spamming her with selfies. I was giddy, I couldn’t help myself.

 

“Why are you being like this?”

 

“What has gotten into you!?”

 

“Minhyun, what on earth???”

 

“Not that I’m complaining…”

 

I decided to keep it somewhat of a surprise, but I only told her that I loved her. It wasn’t a lie, either. I really did love her, and I couldn’t contain it in that moment.

 

Before we said goodnight, she finally sent me a selfie back. She hid behind her hand, like she usually did, but I could tell she was smiling in her eyes. And she was sleepy.

 

It was the first time she’d ever sent one back.

 

So it became my wallpaper.

 

 

---

 

 

She caught me staring at her that day.

 

I didn’t even try to hide it; I was always caught up in admiring the way her nose crinkled up when she was thinking hard about something, or the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, or how she bit on her bottom lip when she was nervous and shy.

 

But she turned away when she realized.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said.

 

I frowned. “What on earth for?”

 

“I know you must see the most beautiful girls everyday as an idol. I’m sorry I’m not… I’m sorry I’m not as pretty as them.” Her voice was so quiet it was nearly blown away with the wind. I took her hand and rubbed my thumb over hers.

 

“How dare you.”

 

She looked frightened at first, even though my voice was sad.

 

“You’ve called me shallow again. And you’re sitting there declaring my preferences as if you know me better than I know myself. You’re captivating. You absolutely mesmerize me.” I tucked a tuft of her hair behind her ear, letting my thumb brush over her cheek. “The people you see, even me, that’s all smoke and mirrors anyways. Those people don’t look like that without the help of professional stylists who are constantly touching them up every five minutes between shots, photoshop artists who remove parts of their bodies to look thinner or more aesthetically pleasing.” I paused, sighing. “You’ve even seen me when I’ve just rolled out of bed to come meet with you. Why are you acting like you haven’t seen me without all the tricks?”

I saw her bottom lip quiver and tears well in her eyes. I was prepared to wipe them all away before they hardly had time to fall.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said, defeated and yet still holding on to some semblance of what she believed; that she wasn’t worthy of my presence.

 

I shook my head. “No, I’m not accepting that.” I held her face in my hands, still wiping away the tears. She needed to see the look in my eyes. “Do you know what I think about all that perfection?” I gave her a moment to respond, but she only stayed quiet. “I think it’s boring. I think it’s lifeless and hollow. But you, you aren’t like all that and I absolutely love it. You make me crazy in the best possible way. All those things you call imperfections, they’re so beautiful to me.”

 

She still couldn’t seem to respond. She glanced at everything, careful not to return eye contact with me. As though she would crumble if we dared lock eyes again.

 

“And you understand, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

 

I had her attention now. I could tell she was really listening, the way her breath caught in . She was probably trying to think of how she could get out of agreeing with me already, but there wasn’t going to be any counter for this.

 

“Your favorite pictures of me are when I’m bare-faced with bedhead. You have an entire collection of ugly selfies that I’ve taken. Before we even met I started getting my teeth straightened and yet you always talk about how you miss them that way. Things I’m embarrassed of you hold dear to you, yet you think it’s impossible for anyone to look at you the same way.” I paused, watching her bottom lip quiver. “Who made you believe you had no enchanting qualities?”

 

Her eyes closed tight. She couldn’t respond if she wanted to, even if it was to agree. I knew this, but it drove me crazy. Still, I gave her a moment to collect herself. I held her close and kissed the top of her head.

 

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was muffled in my shoulder.

 

“Stop that. There’s nothing to be sorry about. Well, I’ll take that back.” I breathed. “The only person you should be sorry to is yourself. Why are you always so mean to the girl I’m crazy about?”

 

She whimpered again. I sighed.

 

“I know. It’s more complicated than that, I know. It’s not so hopeless though.” I heard her inhale deeply against my chest. Maybe the tears were finally drying. “You’ve been getting better.” I pet her hair and I felt her hands on my back. “You smile a lot more.”

 

She inhaled again. “You make me really happy.”

 

“I’m glad. I try.”

 

There was a quiet.

 

“Should I tell you how beautiful you are more often? Would that help?”

 

She didn’t respond. I think she wanted to say no, like it would be self-centered to accept it. But she did want it, I know she did. She just chose not to say anything at all instead. Regardless, I had already made my decision.

 

 

---

 

 

I loved her.

 

And only today do I think she really believed me. When the wind was caught in her hair, and she was laughing uncontrollably with her hands around her stomach instead of covering her face, covering her smile. When we shared ear-buds and she changed the songs on me just as I was about to doze off; always ridiculous songs that caught me off guard. She would look up at me, with her tongue between her teeth smiling. She was playful and teasing. Renting the boat was a good idea. I told myself I would have to do it again sometime.

 

We were right next to each other but I texted her.

 

“I love you.”

 

“I didn’t say that enough today.”

 

She peeked my way again, smiling into her phone.

 

“You’ve said it five times.”

 

“I even counted.”

 

I rested my head on top of hers, closing my eyes and grinning. I could hear her laugh a little under her breath.

 

“I could say it five more times today,” I said out loud.

 

She laughed harder. Her laughter filled the air around us. That memory of the girl in the alley was long by now. Not gone as though I’d never remember, but so distant. And fleeting.

 

“You’ve been laughing a lot today,” I said, opening my eyes.

 

She frowned. “I’m sorry, I can stop.”

 

I sat upright, still smiling at her. “No, it’s a good thing. I like it.”

 

She smiled again, a little hesitantly. “Yeah?”

 

By way of an answer, I kissed her. She laughed again and shoved me away.

 

I couldn’t help myself. I said it again. “I love you.”

 

Grinning, she replied, “You say that so easily.”

 

“You’re very easy to love.”

 

“So are you,” she said softly. “You’re one in a million.”

 

I shook my head. “No, I don’t think that’s right. I’m not just me here by myself. We’re together. Two in a million. Yup, that’s us. We’re two in a million.”

 

“You’re so ridiculous, it’s my favorite,” she shook her head, smiling.

 

“But you agree, right?”

 

For once, she nodded. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

 

I really did love her. And today, she finally believed me.