Eun Mi waited for Manager Jo. She had just received her second dan. Usually, she would have gone out to celebrate with Master Park and her fellow teammates, but with the anti—Well, Manager Jo had prohibited several things for CELESTIAL’s safety. The last couple of days had been strictly regulated; they had crawled by, placing Eun Mi in this sluggish momentum that aged her centuries in a single hour.

She kicked her legs back and forth, holding her phone in her hands. Taewoon would be choosing the team he would like to be in at SMTM tonight. Eun Mi wondered if he had already chosen. She didn’t know much about hip-hop. She knew she liked Tablo, Verbal Jint, and, of course, Jay Park. She had worked with Verbal Jint once for a variety show. She had balanced out his lethargic, slow movements with her strength and agility. They had still lost miserably.

Eun Mi didn’t really like SanE. What she had seen of him behind the scenes made her skin prickle. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something about him made her…uncomfortable.

Of course, Eun Mi knew Taewoon wouldn’t choose Zico’s team. Never Zico’s team. Not when the entire point had been to emerge from Zico’s ever lengthening, thickening shadow.

Were there more teams to choose from? Tablo’s, Jay Park’s, Zico’s, SanE’s, Verbal Jint’s—no, wait, weren’t Verbal Jint and SanE a single team?

She would have looked it up except her phone started ringing. Eun Mi stared at the screen, confused.

It was Zico.

She slid her thumb across the screen, accepting the call. “Hello?”

“Hello, Eun Mi? Chorong noona is wondering if you will be at HQ tonight.”

“No, I won’t be there tonight. I have to be back at the dorm.” She heard N laughing in the background. Chorong’s voice filtered through. “A-are you at HQ?”

“Yeah, I just got here.”

“W-what about Show Me the Money?”

“We finished for the night.”

Eun Mi stared at the wall opposite her, saying nothing. Zico called her name a few times. “And Taewoon?”

Zico backpedaled. “Why are you suddenly talking so informally? Shouldn’t you be more respectful when talking about my hyung?”

“Just answer. What happened to Taewoon?”

“He was eliminated,” Zico deadpanned.

Eun Mi hung up.

She swung her bag over her shoulder, dashing out of the dojo, speed dialing Taewoon. He didn’t answer. She tried again. She got his voicemail. She ran to the main road. If she hurried, she could still find a taxi.

Eun Mi pressed the phone to her ear, her steps short and quick. “Pick up, pick up, pick up.”

The call went to voicemail. She cursed, the words sliding in tidy Spanish underneath her breath. She raised her arm, hailing a cab. She punched in another number. Taeha answered as she shut the door behind her.

“Eun Mi-ah, hello,” he sounded happy to hear from her, relieved even.

“Tae! Are you with Jungwoo?”

“Jungwoo hyung? Yeah, he’s here.”

“May I speak with him?”

“With Jungwoo hyung? Yeah, sure, give me a sec.”

The taxi driver caught her eye in the rearview mirror. Eun Mi gave him the apartment’s address, praying to find him there.

“Hello?”

“Jungwoo!” she forgot to speak formally in her haste. “Taewoon, is he with you? Have you seen him?”

“No. He should be filming Show Me the Money. Why? Is something wrong?”

Eun Mi choked a worried sob. “I’ll call you back.”

Jungwoo stared at Taeha’s phone in his hand, eyebrows drawn together. He handed it back. “She seemed to be in a hurry.”

Eun Mi was, indeed, in a hurry. A desperate, frightened hurry.

It took about thirty minutes after the phone call with Eun Mi for Zico to worry. It took five unanswered text messages and three rejected calls for him to grow nervous. It wasn’t until his mother called, asking if either of them would go home that he truly began to panic.

He called Kyung.

“What do you want?”

“Have you talked to my brother?”

“Not in a while. Why, what’s going on?”

Zico cursed, thinking. “You’re friends with Taeha, right?”

“Yeah. Do you need him?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll text you his number.”

Zico sighed with relief when Taeha answered; he’d been afraid that he would reject unknown calls.

“Hello?”

“Oh Taeha? This is Jiho, Taewoon’s brother.”

“Zico?”

“Yeah. Have you seen my hyung? Has he been by the company or the dorm?”

“I haven’t seen him, but maybe the other members know.”

While Taeha asked around, Zico grabbed his car keys; for once, he was glad to have made the long drive to HQ himself.

“Zico, no one has seen him. Jungwoo hyung is on his way to the company. He’ll check there.”

“Please—”

“I’ll keep you posted.”

“Thanks.”

Zico grabbed the steering wheel, sitting there blankly. Aside from SPEED and Kyung, he didn’t know who to call or where to even begin looking for Taewoon. He had spent so much time focusing on himself that he had not paid close enough attention to him. How could he not know where to look?

It wasn’t Taeha that called him back, Jungwoo did.

“He’s not at the company. It looked like he and the CEO had an argument.”

“Do you know where he might be?”

Jungwoo paused. He seemed to be considering something before saying, “If he’s not at home, the dorm, or the company, I’m not sure where he could be.”

Zico thanked him, cursing brilliantly as he pounded on the steering wheel. How could he not know where to look for his missing brother? Instead of resenting him for things that had happened during their childhood, he should have been paying attention.

With a heavy heart, Zico realized that he was not a very good brother. Back when Block B had faced difficulties, Taewoon’s efforts to support and encourage him had been minimal. Zico also resented him for that. He had allowed that resentment to build up a wall between them.

Zico had not yet found a way to love his brother without resentment. He resented Taewoon just as much as he loved him.

He abruptly pulled the car to the shoulder of the road.

Taewoon begrudged him as well. Zico had become successful within four years of his debut while Taewoon continued to struggle. First with Co-Ed School and the vicious rumor that had ended them before they actually begun. Then with SPEED’s prolonged debut and spaced out comebacks. And now with SMTM.

Zico might have undergone several difficulties, but they could not compare with Taewoon’s continuous struggle.

The dark, nasty thoughts and feelings inside Zico had him wanting to run away. And, just like that, he knew where to find Taewoon.

A black plastic bag with two unopened bottles of soju rested on the kitchen counter. The presence of Taewoon’s shoes, mindlessly discarded by the front door, and his car keys beside the plastic bag eased the gripping fear in Eun Mi’s heart.

Not bothering to put her shoes away after kicking them off, she dashed inside, calling for Taewoon.

“Taewoon! Woo Taewoon!”

Moments later, his bedroom door opened. Taewoon emerged wearing sweats and drying his hair with the towel around his neck. Eun Mi launched herself at him, imprisoning him in a tight embrace. Taewoon took a step back to keep his balance.

“Whoa! Hey there, what’s going on? Aren’t you supposed to be at home? Where’s Manager Jo? You didn’t ditch him did you?”

“Shut up! Is any of that important right now? Do you have any idea just how worried I’ve been? Where’s your phone? Why didn’t you answer it?”

Taewoon blinked. “My phone? I haven’t heard it ring. I guess I must have left it in the car.”

Eun Mi wanted to drop kick him. She wanted to strangle him. Instead, she took his face in her hands, kissing every inch of it. She kissed his forehead, his nose, his cheekbones, his eyes. She covered him with a hundred tender kisses and then held onto him again.

Taewoon placed his hand on the top of her head. He held on to her, swallowing the piercing lump in his throat, forcing it down. “How did you find out?”

“Zico.”

“What a snitch.”

“Were you not planning on telling me?”

Taewoon smiled, squeezing her against him. “Of course I was. But I had to meet with the CEO, first.”

It had not gone well. It had not gone well at all. Taewoon was not only out of the running to win SMTM, he was now, also, officially unemployed. The CEO had terminated his contract when he’d heard that he had not made it to the next round. Taewoon had left MBK Ent. for good this time.

He had stuck around for the sake of SPEED, stuck around hoping the company would manage them better. He’d stuck around in vain. Taewoon knew he should have left when the company failed to protect Co-Ed School against that vicious rumor. He should have left then; SPEED made him stay.

Now, even SPEED was in danger. The members themselves felt it. They could sense the end in the air. Sejun often spent much time thinking on his own. Jungwoo’s contract neared its end. Ki-O had been dropped from SPEED’s lineup in preparation for another group the company had queued up. Taewoon could do nothing to save or protect them. SPEED would end; more because of the members’ own decisions than the company officially disbanding them.

SPEED would be one of those groups that had appeared with promise and ended with not even a semblance of a whisper.

Taewoon had left MBK fully intending to get drunk off his . He had remembered Eun Mi, though, and decided that maybe a bottle of soju would do—maybe two. He couldn’t be drunk in case she might need him.

He had never expected her to find her way to him. He had not expected for her to find out on her own before he had gathered himself well enough to tell her. SMTM had been a great risk. Everything in the entertainment industry was a risk. Talent was not enough. An extreme amount of luck was needed.

Luck to meet the right people. Luck to make it into the right company, the right group. Luck to debut at the right time. Luck to be well-liked. Luck to not be involved in any scandals or controversies. Luck to survive.

Taewoon did not seem to have much luck at all.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s grab a drink.”

“You need to get your phone,” Eun Mi scolded. “Everyone is worried about you.”

Taewoon smiled, kissing her briefly. “Fine. But at least get the ramen ready while I’m gone.”

Eun Mi rolled her eyes, walking with him—more like hindering his walk since she had not yet let him go—to the front door. He ruffled her hair, kissed her again. She stared at the closed door, hurting for him until she remembered to call Manager Jo.

Somehow, by the grace of God no doubt, Eun Mi had had the foresight to let him know what was going on beforehand. He hadn’t been pleased. He, also, hadn’t been able to do anything since Eun Mi had already jumped ship and was heading to Taewoon.

“Two hours, Eun Mi, that’s all you’re getting. I swear you were not nearly this problematic before you met this kid.”

They knew he was lying. Eun Mi had always been causing him one sort of trouble or another. CELESTIAL was the main reason he had so many headaches. So, when he allowed things without much opposition, Eun Mi knew that he really had no issue allowing the girls to do what they’d asked.

Two hours were enough for soju and ramen. Two hours were enough to make sure Taewoon would remain safe and stay safe.

She set her phone on the kitchen counter, staring at it intently. She had mulled the insane idea over for what seemed like a million years. She’d never spoken of it out loud. Circumstances had been different when she had first thought of it. Eun Mi bit her lip, scooped her phone up, and forwarded a link to Taewoon.

The worst that could happen was that he would say no, that’s what Eun Mi told herself. But maybe, just maybe, it would hurt his feelings. She would have to handle that consequence if it came to pass. Somehow.

Eun Mi wondered if fighting with Taewoon would be anything like fighting with Zico. She had spent a lot of time with Taewoon, but she had yet to see him angry. The closest he had ever come to being so had been that night long ago inside St. Cecilia’s when Zico had first come into the conversation. She could not quite remember how Taewoon had behaved, only that it had been slightly unpleasant.

On the other hand, she could remember quite vividly how Zico acted whenever he was angry. He tended to make himself taller, somehow. Maybe he accomplished this by throwing his shoulders back, squaring his chest. Or maybe, Eun Mi became small.

Zico’s words held a very intimidating, very dark, very violent tone in them whenever he was angry. Eun Mi could handle him then. He never quite did say things that could hurt her. Zico’s anger was like those mean comments people left online; insubstantial and based off of misconceptions.

She could easily ignore him if that were all there was to it. In fact, Eun Mi would have happily gone on with her life even while knowing that Zico hated her if he would only not glare at her so.

Most people could not separate Taewoon from Zico. Taewoon was lost in his little brother’s essence, someone of little consequence. Not quite as talented, not quite invisible to escape criticism either.

Eun Mi, however, could not separate Zico from Taewoon. She could see Taewoon in Zico’s features, hear Taewoon’s voice coming from his lips. Maybe that is what made his glare so frightening.

Eun Mi feared that someday Taewoon would look at her the way Zico did. She feared Taewoon’s soft, kind eyes would turn icy or stone dead when he looked at her. If ever he did, if she ever lost him—

She took a slow, deep breath. She really should stop that train of thought before it derailed into an anxiety attack. She could not let herself think like that. This was not the time or place to fall apart.

The front door chimed, the lock sliding open.

“That was fast! I haven’t—”

She stopped. Froze. Nearly died of shock. Zico stood opposite her, the kitchen counter between them, glaring.

“What are you doing here?”

It was a dream, a nightmare. Something so impossible could not be happening. Eun Mi backed up, clasping her trembling hands together.

Zico’s glare, having been absent for a while, returned at a greater, magnified force. She felt grateful that the counter stood between them.

Zico took a step forward. Eun Mi took a step back. Her hip bumped against the stove, its edge digging into her back. Seeing her retreat increased his anger.

“What the are you doing here? How do you know of this place?”

“J-Jiho, c-calm down. Let’s—”

“Don’t act so familiar with me! How the hell do you know of this place? How did you get in?”

Eun Mi wanted to reply, wanted the words that she spoke to cool his temper. But she had no words and Zico’s temper burned hotter than the Earth’s core.

A few moments passed, tense, cackling with negative energy.

“I thought you had changed,” he said through gritted teeth. “I was willing to forgive you.”

“W-what?”

“How can you live with yourself? Do you get off on following people?”

Eun Mi wondered if she could run away from him fast enough. She could barricade herself in Taewoon’s room; would she last until Taewoon returned?

“I asked you a damned question!” Zico shouted.

Eun Mi’s hands flew to her ears. She cowered, squeezing her eyes shut, hiding behind the shield of her arms. Her nerves were still raw and sore from the week’s previous events. She could not push herself too hard; she could not be pushed too hard.

Seeing her cower before him only fueled his already misplaced wrath. He stomped towards her, grabbed her wrist viciously.

That was his mistake.

Eun Mi, cornered and frightened, did the only thing she knew how to do when someone attacked her; she fought back. Back in Hanoi, she had not expected anyone to break through the security lines, so she had not been aware of her surroundings as well as she could be. She could not fight back then; she could now.

When she thought back on it, she could not remember exactly what she did. All she remembered was Zico’s painful grunt and the burning sensation that followed the absence of his tight grip. She stepped back into her fighting stance, her right fist raised before her, her left resting by her temple.

She had taken him greatly by surprise; Zico stood with her back to her, having had to spin himself around in order to keep his balance. He turned to look at her now, the back of his hand pressed against the corner of his mouth. Usually, the maneuver called for her to aim the heel of her hand to his nose; she’d redirected her aim to his mouth. She didn’t want to break the nose BBC’s were so fond of. They also liked his lips. Ah, well, they would heal faster.

“What the ?”

“Don’t come near me,” she warned with a slight quiver in her voice. “I swear I will kick your if you do, Jiho.”

The pain on his lip burned through his anger. The spreading pain on his left side reminded him that he was standing before a woman that owned a black belt in Tae Kwon Do. It would not have been any less mortifying if he had been aware that she had just earned her second dan.

“Get out.”

“No.”

“Get the out!”

Eun Mi’s stance became a shield. She could face him, his anger, and his glares so long as she firmly stood her ground.

“I’m not going anywhere. Believe it or not, Zico,” she spat his stage name at him, “I’m not here for you. So, I suggest you take deep breaths, calm down, and wait for Taewoon without trying anything stupid.”

Zico said, “My hyung? You’re here for my hyung?”

“Did you think I was here for you?”

He said nothing. Eun Mi blinked, confused as to why he would ever believe such a thing. Zico swallowed, tasting the blood that had pooled by his bitten cheek. “Why else would you be here?”

Eun Mi’s eyes snapped, fierce. Zico had never seen such darkness in them, such fierce cruelty. Zico was suddenly very much afraid of Eun Mi.

“I told you, I am here for Taewoon.”

“I can’t believe that. You don’t know him.”

“You want to know why I am here? I am here because the man I care about the most is here. I am here because I could not live with myself if I allowed him to spend this night alone.”

Zico’s heart jumped. Despite everything that continued to happen between them, despite the bad blood, hearing her say that made his heart race. His mind conjured up ideas, guided the scenario in a very unsuitable direction.

The front door chimed as someone punched in the passcode. Eun Mi crossed her arms. She didn’t do it as a way to hide, she did it with power and self-assurance. The dark cruelty in her eyes continued to rage. Zico shivered.

“Get off your high horse, Zico. I am here for Taewoon.”

The door opened, closed. Taewoon walked in.

Once, when they were children, Jiho had been cornered in an alley. They had just moved and the kids had mistaken the fierce shape and ambitious glow in Jiho’s eyes for defiant delinquency. The other kids usually thought that he was looking for a fight. For a time, he’d been forced to walk with his eyes down because of it.

That particular day, Taewoon had been asked to stay behind for a few minutes by his teacher. Jiho had started on his way home only to be pushed into that alley. Kyung had seen it happen from across the street and had run to fetch an adult. He’d found Taewoon instead.

Taewoon had pushed his way through the bodies, slammed them against each other, the ground, or the walls. Most of the kids had been older than Jiho by quite a few years. Some had even been older than Taewoon. He had taken a greater share of the punches aimed at his little brother.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Jiho had said. He’d gritted his teeth, fought back the tears quite handsomely. “Don’t ever stand between those that hate me and myself. I can stand on my own. I can pick my own fights. Don’t save me.”

And from that day onwards, Taewoon hadn’t. He’d let his kid brother make his way through life on his own. He let him face his own obstacles, fall, and watched him get back up again all while giving him a minimum amount of support.

They both remembered that memory quite differently though rather similarly. Just as they were warped images of each other, so was their recollection of the same memories warped.

Taewoon remembered what Jiho had said but not what he had replied. Jiho, on the other hand, remembered what Taewoon had replied but not what he had replied to.

Taewoon remembered “Don’t save me.” While Jiho recalled “Then learn to stand on your own.”

Somehow, that had built the foundation for their relationship. Jiho struggled to stand on his own while Taewoon watched from the sidelines. Jiho had been struggling to stand on his own for so long that now that he’d had the chance to look back at his brother to say “I saved myself,” he found that Taewoon had been in need of saving.

Once. Twice. Thrice.

Jiho could not be sure how many times Taewoon had watched from afar while hoping that he would turn around and offer him a helping hand, a word of comfort. They relied on one another—no, Jiho relied on Taewoon.

Jiho relied on Taewoon because Taewoon had always been there, because Taewoon would always be there. Because no matter how many times Jiho pushed Taewoon away or refused his help, his big brother would always push his way through countless bodies to save him.

But eventually, because brothers were meant to rely on one another, Taewoon had needed Jiho and Jiho had not been there.

Once with Co-Ed School. Twice with SPEED. Thrice with SMTM.

If Jiho bothered to do the math, he would find that he had failed Taewoon much more than what Taewoon had failed him.

Once. Twice. Thrice. And now a fourth.

Jiho had taken so much from his big brother; what had he given in return? Jealousy, rivalry, resentment.

Once with Co-Ed School. Twice with SPEED. Thrice with SMTM. And now a fourth time with Eun Mi.

He had refused to believe that she could have meant what she said. Even when Taewoon walked in, he expected him to appear puzzled, confused as to why she stood in their kitchen.

Taewoon had not been surprised by Eun Mi’s presence. He had been surprised by Jiho’s.

If they had been children, Taewoon would have checked on Zico’s bruising lip. He would have found the first-aid kit and done his best not to hurt his kid brother while he tried to heal him. Jiho would have complained. Taewoon would have ignored him.

Taewoon ignored him, though it was now for entirely different reasons. He’d given Jiho a once over before making his way to Eun Mi.

He stood before her, taking her arms in his hands ever so gently. He leaned in, his eyes on hers then on her face, then on the rest of her body. It took Jiho several moments to realize that Taewoon was checking for wounds.

“Hyung,” he choked out.

Taewoon didn’t hear him. “Are you alright? How are you feeling? Eun Mi.”

Jiho understood that what Taewoon actually meant to say was “Did he hurt you?”

“No, I’m okay,” Eun Mi replied. “I think I was a little mean, though.”

Jiho turned away briefly. When he looked back at them, he realized just how wrong he had been. How very, very, very wong.

Taewoon had cupped Eun Mi’s face. They gazed at each other with such steadiness that the world seemed to slow down; it paused, held its breath, all just for them. Nothing could come between them; there existed no space through which anyone could crawl through.

Jiho was losing something. He could feel it.

The creation of Zico had come about from his stay in Japan. He’d gotten the idea from the manner in which girls affectionately addressed others. He had made something powerful out of something tender.

Zico was his stage name; his tower, his shield. When he was Zico, nothing could touch him. No one could hurt him. As Zico, he could cause a thousand problems, break a million rules, hurt a billion people. He could make and unmake anything and everything as Zico. He could ignore the truth, mold it, reshape it as he pleased. He could stand in the spotlight, receive praises, criticisms. He could embrace fame and relish in it.

As Jiho, he was simply a frightened, insecure, little boy that could not forget the times he’d been singled out due to his eyes. He could not forget his older brother’s words: “Stand on your own.” As Jiho he couldn’t forget how much he needed his brother. He could not remember why he had ever drawn away. He could not figure out how to get him back. As Jiho, he hated to hurt others. He stayed up late thinking about what his life meant, where this road he walked would lead him to.

As Zico, he lost Jiho. He lost Jiho to the burning anger. As Jiho, he lost Zico. He lost Zico to the piercing pain.

He had lost. He was losing. He would continue to lose. And it was all Zico’s fault.