Jiyong

Most mornings, I’m awakened by Sanghyun’s voice singing one of his usual songs, which gets stuck in my head—“Good morning to you, good morning to you. We’re all in our places with bright shining faces. And this is the way, we start a new day!” It could drive anyone insane.

No, today it’s not Dara’s little brother who wakes me up. It’s Taeyang’s voice bellowing in the hallway.

“You're my heart heart heart heart heart breaker naega mwoljalmotaenneunji - You're my heart heart heart heart heart breaker no way no way!”

And while Sanghyun doesn’t mean to annoy me, Taeyang’s reason for living might just be to piss me off.

“Don’t you ever shut up?” I yell, hoping he can hear me out in the hallway.

“Hey, bro-o-other,” Taeyang says, opening the door. “Rise and shine!”

I pick up my head. “Didn’t I lock the door to keep people like you out?”

He holds up a bent paper clip and wiggles it. “Yep. Lucky for me I know how to use the magic door-opener.”

“Get out.”

“I need your help, bro.”
 

“No. Get out.”
 

“Do you hate me so much because Dara likes me better than you?”
 

“Not for long. Get the out. Now,” I tell him. The guy doesn’t move.
 

“Okay, seriously, I don’t know if this is true or not, but I heard people who use profanity are trying to compensate for their lack of, you know, size.”

I whip off the covers and jump out of bed and chase him into the hallway, but he’s gone.

Dara’s door is suspiciously open. “Where is he?” I ask her.
 

“Um . . . ,” she says.
 

I scan her room, then open her closet door. Sure enough, Taeyang is standing inside. “I was just kidding. Can’t you take a joke, man?” he says.

“Not at seven in the mornin’.”

He laughs. “Put some clothes on so you don’t scare poor Dara with your morning hard-on.”

I look down at my shorts. Sure enough, I’ve got a morning hard-on in front of Dara and Taeyang. .

I reach out for the first thing I can grab and put it in front of me to shield myself from view. It happens to be one of Dara’s stuffed animals, but I don’t have much choice right now.

“That’s Dara’s TamTam,” Taeyang says, laughing.

Without a word, I rush back to my room and toss TamTam on the floor. Knowing Dara, she’ll probably make me buy her a new stuffed animal.

I sit on my bed, wondering how I’m going to get closer to Dara with Taeyang in the picture, and wondering why I even want to. I like kissin’ her, that’s all. A knock at my door interrupts my thoughts.

“What do you want?” I say, the words coming out as a growl.
 

“It’s Dara.”
 

“. . . and Taeyang,” comes another voice.
 

I open the door. “He wants to apologize,” Dara says.
 

“I am very sorry I opened your door without permission,” Taeyang says as if he’s a little kid sent to apologize by his mother. “I promise not to do it ever again. Please forgive me.”

“Fine.” I start to close the door, but Dara puts her palm on it.
 

“Wait. Taeyang really does need your help, Ji.”
 

“With what?”
 

“My Ultimate team only has six players and we need seven. We have three people out with the flu, and two more got hurt in the quarterfinals and can’t play. Dara thinks you’d be halfway decent.”

Halfway decent? “Why don’t you play?” I ask Dara. “You’re athletic.”

“It’s not a coed team,” she tells me. “It’s an all-male team.”

Taeyang holds his palms together in a praying position, and I can just sense the bull about to fly. “Please, bro. We need you. We need you more than the earth rises in the west.”

“The sun rises in the east, dickhead.”

“Only if you’re standing on the earth. If you’re on the moon, the earth rises in the west.” He takes a deep breath. “All right, I’m done up. You in or out? The game starts in less than a half hour and I need to know if we have to forfeit or not. Unfortunately, you’re probably our only hope.”

I look at Dara.

“He really needs your help,” she says. “I’ll come watch.”
 

“Fine, I’ll do it. I’ll do it for you,” I tell her.
 

“Wait, what . . . what is he talking about that he’ll do it for you?” Taeyang looks from me to Dara, but neither of us say a word. “Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on here?”

“Nope. Give me five minutes,” I tell them.
 

On the drive to the game, Dara insists I call my brother and ask him to come to the game.

“Just call him,” she says. “Or I will.”
 

“Maybe I don’t want him there.”
 

She holds out her cell. “Maybe you want him there so bad, but you’re too stubborn to admit it. I dare you.” Now why did she have to go and do that?
I grab the phone out of her hand and call my brother. I tell him about the game, and without hesitation he says he’ll be there.

After I hang up and toss the cell back to Dara, Taeyang goes over the rules with me. I focus on the important ones: once I catch the Frisbee I have to stop and throw it to another teammate within ten seconds.

“This isn’t a contact sport, Jiyong,” Taeyang reminds me for the, like, tenth time. “So if you feel like punching, pushing, or fighting with someone, make sure it’s after the game.”

On the field, Taeyang introduces me to our team. A thought keeps running through my head: if I help Taeyang’s team win, will Dara think I’m a hero?
I’m practicing with the guys in the minutes before the game. Even though I haven’t thrown a disc in a few years, I have no problem makin’ it sail through the air to my teammate.

One of the guys on my team runs past me, winks at me, then smacks me on the . What the hell was that, some sort of Ultimate ritual? I don’t do rituals that involve other guys’ hands on my .

I walk over to Taeyang, who’s stretching out on the sidelines. “Am I delusional, or was that guy hitting on me?”

“His name’s JaeJin. Don’t ask me why, but he thinks you’re hot. He hasn’t stopped drooling since you got here. Just don’t lead him on.”

“Don’t worry.”

“Here.” Taeyang reaches into his duffel and tosses me a shirt. “It’s our team uniform.”

I hold it out in front of me. “It’s pink.”
 

“You got something against pink?”
 

“Yeah. It’s gay.”
 

Taeyang smacks his lips together. “Um, yeah. Jiyong, now’s probably a good time for me to tell you something. You’re probably not gonna like it.”

As Taeyang talks, I take close inventory of my teammates. JongHun, a guy who looks mighty feminine. The guy who hit me on the is now biting on his lower lip as if he wants to get with me. And the pink shirts . . . “This is a team of gay dudes, isn’t it?”

“What gave it away? The pink shirts, or half our team drooling over you?”
 

I shove the shirt back in his hands. “I’m not doin’ this.”
 

“Calm down, Jiyong. Playing on a team with gays doesn’t make you gay. Don’t be a homophobe. That’s so un-PC.”

“Ask me if I’ve ever given a about bein’ PC?”
 

“Think of all the fans you’ll disappoint. Dara . . . and your brother.”
 

I don’t know if my brother is laughing or cringing: all I know is that he’s givin’ me a thumbs up from the bleachers. Bom has suddenly shown up here, too. Dara and Bom have their heads huddled together, deep in conversation.

I know I shouldn’t ask this, but I can’t help it. “What’s the name of our team?”

“Ultimate Queers,” Taeyang says, then starts laughing.

I, on the other hand, am not laughin’.

“What, you don’t like our team name? You’re one of us now, Ji baby.”

I’m still not laughin’.

He catches a practice toss from one of the other guys, then tosses it back. “Oh, and just so you know, before we go out on the field we all get in a huddle and yell ‘Go Queers!’ really loud.”

That’s it. “I’m quittin’.”

I start walking off the field. If anyone back home saw me, my would be kicked from California to ia and back again.

“I’m just kidding, man,” Taeyang calls after me.

I stop.

“And our name isn’t Ultimate Queers.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, truth is we don’t yell ‘Go Queers,’ although JunYoung over there with the spiked hair suggested it at the beginning of the season. Our team name is The Ultimates. We couldn’t come up with a cool name, so MinWoo came up with The Ultimates and that’s what we’ve been ever since. Happy now?”

I shake my head and grab the shirt back. “You so owe me for this,” I say as I pull my T-shirt over my head and exchange it for the pink one.

“I know. Name your price,bro.”
 

“I will. Later.” I gaze over at Dara in the stands. “Has Dara ever had a boyfriend?”
 

He taps his chin with his index finger. “Did she tell you about Jaejoong?”
 

“Who’s Jaejoong?” I ask.
 

“The guy Dara dated over the summer.”
 

She’s never mentioned the guy. “How serious was it?”
 

Taeyang grins wide. “My, my, aren’t we curious.”
 

“Answer the question.”
 

“He told her he loved her, then he text-dumped her.”
 

“What a .”
 

“Exactly.” Taeyang points to the other side of the field where the opposing team is practicing.

“He’s the tall guy picking up his water bottle right over there.”
 

“That guy with the green bandanna?”
 

“Yep, that’s the one,” Taeyang says. “Jaejoong, the text-dumper.”

“Is he bald?”
 

“No, he protects his precious hair so it doesn’t get messy when he plays.” Taeyang puts his hand on my chest to get my attention. “But remember what I told you in the car on the way over here when I explained the rules. This is a no-contact sport, Jiyong. We get penalized for unnecessary roughness.”

“Uh-huh.” In the opposite end zone I watch Dara’s ex as he tosses his water bottle toward the sideline after taking a swig and doesn’t give a damn that it almost hits one of the spectator’s dogs. I hate that guy and I’ve never even met him.

When the game starts, MinWoo throws his arm back and whips the disc across the field to our opponents. The game is going fine until one of the guys on the other team mumbles a comment when I intercept his throw. The blood in my veins fires up in the same way it does when I’ve been called a dirty American although I'm a Korean.

I’m competitive, tough, and I’m ready to kick some Ultimate .

I wonder if now is a good time to let Taeyang know he should expect some very necessary roughness coming from one very fired-up man.

Dara

It’s weird seeing Jaejoong again. I knew he’d be here, but I didn’t know how I’d feel about seeing him again after our breakup. I thought I’d still feel at least a little spark or remember why I started dating him, but I look over at him and feel absolutely nothing. I have definitely moved on. The problem is that the person I’m falling for hard and fast doesn’t want more than a fling. I don’t want a fling with Jiyong. I’ll go along with pretending this thing between us is
temporary and casual, but every time we’re together it feels too right to be temporary or casual.

I find myself daydreaming about him when I wake up in the morning, in school when something reminds me of him, and when I fall asleep at night. Even when Jaejoong and I were dating, just thinking about him didn’t brighten my day as much as thoughts of Jiyong do.

While he does his best to be a jerk, every day I get glimpses of the true Jiyong. When he’s playing with my brother, I see a soft side he doesn’t show the rest of the world. When he’s joking around with me, his playful side comes out. When he kisses me, I sense his desperate need for affection.

I know the great things about Jiyong and why I’m feeling attached to him like I’ve never felt with anyone else before. But he hasn’t given me glimpses into his dark side, the side that makes him angry and jealous and beaten down. And I know it’s that part of him that won’t let him get emotionally involved.

I watch as the teams line up in each of their end zones and Taeyang’s team tosses the disc in play.

Jaejoong is the first to run out and catch it, then quickly aims for another player on his team. The problem is that Jiyong is there to intercept the disc almost the second it leaves Jaejoong’s hands.

In the first two minutes of the game, The Ultimates have scored. Taeyang gives Jiyong a high five. I have to admit it’s nice seeing them celebrating instead of arguing.

“Jiyong is really good,” Bom says to both Seunghyun and me.

“He’s a Kwon, of course he’s good,” He says proudly.

I also knew Jiyong would be good, because Jiyong wouldn’t agree to play if he didn’t think he’d be decent at it. The next time Jiyong has the disc, Jaejoong gets in his face and says something. I have no clue what they’re saying, but both look like they’re ready to fight. In fact, after Jiyong tosses the disc to another guy on his team, he gives Jaejoong a shove, and Jaejoong lands hard on his .

“Foul!” someone on Jaejoong’s team yells.

“Foul, my ,” Jiyong argues. “He was in my face.”
 

“I heard him taunt our player,” Taeyang calls out, then points to Jaejoong. “That guy should get a taunting violation.”

Jaejoong stands and points to Ji. “You’ve been in my face since the game started!”
 

“We’re playing one-on-one,” Taeyang says. “He was defending you.”
 

“He pushed me. You saw it. Everyone saw it. He should be kicked out!”
 

If Jiyong is kicked out, the game is over because The Ultimates have to forfeit. Jiyong looks at me and my heart turns over. He isn’t playing because Taeyang asked, he’s doing it for me