CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I needed to admit that her idea of ​​eating ice cream made me forget my conflict about my future.

Wendy and I met the other half of our group outside the convenience store near one of the park's side exits, still close to Samojeong Pavilion. Kim Yerim was drinking canned grape juice while Kang Seulgi held her cell phone to her ear, holding the brown can of iced coffee in her other hand. Judging by the thin line of her glued lips, I could tell she was pissy, far from the sweet smile she showed when we were together.

I could understand why she was irritated with us then; technically we both snuck out. However, it was Seulgi's fault for being completely focused on taking photos. Wendy's words, not mine. At least she said it jokingly because Seulgi was increasingly looking like she was going to cry at any moment. I think she was upset with herself for partially failing at her job. And I'm sure she only didn't cry because I told her that no one seemed to recognize Wendy.

In order not to be totally unfair to Wendy, she offered to buy ice cream for her security staff to apologize for her bad behavior. The four of us went into the convenience store to pick out our ice creams – a popsicle in my case and headed back outside. It was not recommended to eat inside the park, but we could do that in the store area. It was much more inviting to eat while looking at the beautiful trees and flowers, feeling the refreshing breeze cool off the gentle heat of the sun.

We ended up going back to Jidang Pond because some dramas Yeri watched had scenes filmed there, and she needed to take photos there too. Wendy and I lead the way with Kang Seulgi close behind. This time, she didn't take her eyes off the singer and I was painfully aware of her eyes on our backs. I wondered if this was how Wendy felt most of the time; constantly watched. The walk was short and I already felt uncomfortable, I couldn't imagine what it was like to have eyes on me all the time.

Wendy was in charge of taking photos of Yeri this time, since Seulgi refused to do anything other than stand still with little eagle eyes. I offered myself the role, but my friend vehemently refused, saying, “Your photos are exactly like a mother struggling with technology,” and she wasn't wrong. So, I decided to admire the landscape that I had just seen not an hour ago. However, my eyes spent more time looking at Wendy's profile as she put maximum effort into her task.

She was beautiful. I mean, she was pretty all the time. But she was even more beautiful there; carefree. Her laugh seemed more genuine when Yeri struck an overly dramatic pose. Wendy gave orders for her to move a little to one side or turn her head slightly, and smiled proudly at the result on her cell phone screen. Her enthusiasm seemed legitimate, which made her shine ten times brighter.

I only realized that we had spent the entire afternoon in Yeouido when the park's streetlights illuminated our path before the natural sunlight disappeared completely. I admit that I enjoyed this unexpected outing, even though at first, I thought Yeri was up to something with that idea. Inside, I was screaming with every smile Wendy gave me. I wanted to believe that she was enjoying my company the same way I enjoyed her presence.

The ride home was pleasant, despite feeling drained from the day's activities. And when I say home, I mean home. In Incheon. That two-bedroom apartment in the slightly old building in Galsan-dong. Home. The place where I didn't want to go at that moment, but I needed to. Actually, I didn't need to go there, I just wanted to make sure Yeri got home safely after spending all her energy walking in the park. My friend was a smart kid, but she tended to sleep on the subway at the end of the day.

“Wendy-ssi, Seulgi-ssi, thank you for the lovely and unexpected day,” I planned to take one of the Park exits that led to the subway entrance, so I started to thank the two women in front of me. “Yeri and I will take the subway home now.”

"Nonsense! We’re going to take you to your home,” Wendy declared with Seulgi nodding in agreement.

“No need, it’s just fifty minutes away by subway. Besides, our building is on the corner of the station exit,” I declined the offer, paying close attention to Yeri's excitement about the car ride.

“And it will be less than twenty traveling in the car,” this time it was Seulgi who spoke, “and much more comfortable.”

“It will be more work for you to return to Seoul.”

“We’re already on this side of the Han River anyway,” Wendy insisted, “Plus, the papers are in the car, so you’d still need to go to the parking lot.”

I was sure my eyes doubled in size at that moment. I had completely forgotten about the list of songs we were negotiating. Dozens of sheets of paper were neatly stacked in the backseat of Wendy's luxury sedan.

The reason I met with her today.

“You forgot about them, huh?”

“No,” I lied straight through, walking hurriedly towards the exit that led to the Yeouido Hangang parking lot.

And that's how Yeri and I ended up in Wendy's car once again, heading towards Incheon. This time, my friend asked them to go in the front seat. According to her, she needed to make the most of Seulgi's knowledge of martial arts. She wouldn't be able to hear it from the backseat, she said. As a result, I ended up sharing the back seat with the owner of the car.

Wendy carefully placed the papers on her lap during the trip. I could only imagine that she was worried about the content, not the sheets themselves. She could make hundreds of copies of that if she wanted to. But the content was precious, very personal. The lyrics showed her past, the notes were a glimpse into the personality of who Wendy would be.

Son Seungwan was those pages.

Staining the paper with grease would be like staining Seungwan herself. Folding, crumpling, or tearing those papers would be doing the same to Seungwan because Seungwan only existed there.

Wendy was vulnerable in her presence, so she was overprotective.

Kang Seulgi's cell phone was on the front panel, unlocked and indicating on the GPS that we were halfway there. That's when I said, “I like your songs,” catching Wendy's attention.

We were both silent, perfectly listening to the self-defense tips that Seulgi gave to Yeri at the front.

I couldn't help but remember my first Kepton4 show at the Splitz. The familiarity of those songs, the feeling of having heard them several times without ever having heard them before. They were Wendy's songs – I only discovered them months later. The songs were reminiscent of the beginning of her career, my favorite time.

“It reminded me of your first album.”

“Are you a fan?” she asked open-mouthed, exaggerating her reaction. I only agreed with a discreet nod, doubting that she saw it due to the low light inside the vehicle. “You don’t look like one.”

I chose to ignore that comment, not knowing whether to interpret it as a compliment or an insult. Did Wendy's fans have some kind of behavior manual that I didn't know about? Because I was there since Day 1 and I didn't get the memo.

“Thank you,” she replied sometime later.

Seulgi stopped the car in front of four identical twenty-story buildings, ours was the first one on the left. Wendy handed me the papers before opening the door and walking around to the sidewalk. Seeing her in front of my building was surreal. I wouldn't believe it even if she was on that variety show where a celebrity rings the doorbell at a stranger's house for dinner. But there she was, with her neck craned looking up at the top of the building.

Once again, I thanked Wendy for the afternoon outing, and for the ride home. Yeri also did the same, bowing along with me. I was careful not to crumple the papers, hugging them to my chest.

Befo