“Here, drink this.”

“What is it?”

“Something to calm you down.”

Zico brought the teacup up to his nose, sniffing. “What is it?”

Taewoon rolled his eyes. He took the little, blue slip of paper from beside the kettle and read. “It says here that it is Valerian Root tea with a hint of lavender and chamomile. If it tastes disgusting, don’t blame me.”

Zico laughed. “I didn’t know you were into teas.”

“I’m not. Eun Mi is.”

She had to be. She tried her best to stay away from the heaviest medications; teas helped her anxiety. Taewoon looked at her handwriting on the slip of paper. Even in a hurry her Hangeul seemed tidy. To any Korean it would be apparent that a foreigner had written it. No one managed to keep such tidy handwriting for long. She tried really hard to be understood, even after so many years.

He ran his thumb across the ink, feeling the pressure of her hand on the back. How had she had the foresight to write this down? Taewoon supposed that she had been around Zico long enough to familiarize herself with his emotional state. Maybe.

“She’s a thoughtful girl,” Zico muttered. He blew into the cup, sipped. “Holy , that’s hot!”

“Careful.”

“Couldn’t you have told me earlier?”

“It’s steaming and you still want a warning? Hold on, let me go over to Starbucks and get you one of those slips.”

“What slips?”

“The ‘Caution! Contents May Be Hot’ slips.”

“.”

“.”

Zico accepted the teaspoon Taewoon offered him as well as the small milk carton. He cooled his tea. Taewoon watched him, stopping him suddenly.

“The point is to have tea with milk, not milk with tea.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Zico’s mouth. He drank in silence. Taewoon moved around the apartment, opening and closing drawers. He filled a bowl with cold water, placing some ice cubes in it to keep it cold.

“What are you doing?”

“For your eyes. If we don’t do this, they’ll stay swollen. You have work tomorrow.”

“Hyung, what the ?”

Taewoon cast him a glance that said Eun Mi. And that said so much more.

It said that she worried about Zico. That despite how things were between them, she could not ignore the fact that he was precious to Taewoon. It said that Zico could be a jerk, a complete , and Eun Mi would still care about him, because Taewoon cared for him and she cared about Taewoon. It said that she wished to spread comfort, not discomfort.

It said Zico was wrong.

He cleared his throat. “So, hyung, uh, you and Song Eun Mi are dating?”

“We’re together.”

We’re together.

Together seemed to carry a lot more weight than dating. Dating was casual, something that started with an end in sight. Dating stood for the occasional: meeting every once in a while, sharing a meal here and there. Dating meant getting caught by the media, denying everything, or allowing the company to release an “official” statement.

Together was solid, a union, an alliance. Together symbolized a lifetime: late night conversations, early morning smiles, warm embraces. Together meant commitment with no end, a synchronized dance of personalities. Together meant that it did not matter what the world believed, only what they believed of one another.

Together.

“Sin-,” Zico cleared his throat. “Since when?”

Taewoon swirled the towel around in the cold water. “Sometime in April? March?”

“Did you ask her? Or did she ask you?”

Zico watched him blink slowly. He tilted his head upward, contemplating. When he turned to face him, he wore his silliest grin, the kind that told Zico his happiness overflowed; it crinkled his eyes, twisted his face into a lopsided sign of abundant joy.

“No one asked anyone. We just…got together. It just sort of happened.”

Together.

Zico finished his tea. Already, he felt its calming effects. He followed Taewoon into the living room. He plopped down on the sofa, resting his head on Taewoon’s lap. He set the ice cold bowl on Zico’s stomach, ordering him to hold onto it tightly.

“Does this even work?”

“It does. I saw Eun Mi do this once to Chorong.”

“What? Hyung!”

“Shut up and stay still!” Taewoon dropped the freezing towel on Zico’s eyes. “You don’t want the guys asking what made your eyes swell so much.”

Zico shut up and lay still. His memory prickled with recollections of his older brother watching out for him; cleaning up a scraped knee, bandaging up a sprained wrist. He wondered why those memories were only just now surfacing, wondered why he had not brought them up during 4Things Show when they interviewed him about his family. Taewoon had really, honestly praised him. What had he done? Complained about how their mother had favored him as a child.

It was all that God damned resentment.

“Hyung?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t apologize.”

“You don’t even know what I’m apologizing for.”

“Well, whatever it is, don’t. I don’t need or want your apologies, Jiho-ah.”

Zico detected the tightness in his voice, the crystalline fragility. He could not have chosen the worst time to apologize for being such an ungrateful little brother. Whatever he said, Taewoon would only interpret as pity. Pity for being unable to make it onto the next round, pity that his life had turned so complicated and upside down. Pity pity pity.

Zico said nothing.

The following morning, Eun Mi woke up early, drank a hot cup of tea, showered, and left to the company in the company of CELESTIAL. The drive was longer than usual as they were staying in a hotel while new living arrangements were made. Their things had already been packed up and were waiting for a new home. CEO Choi, they heard, would not rest until they found the safest place.

On the way, Eun Mi sat up front, a spot she usually allowed the girls to rotate in and out of. When the girls saw her head for the front, they instantly knew that something was on her mind. Eun Mi never isolated herself from them; seeing her sitting so quietly up front, with her teeth biting her carefully manicured nails made them worry.

Manager Jo noticed how her hands trembled. Chae and ReNA tried to liven up the mood. DAEE sat quietly behind their leader, playing with Eun Mi’s long hair, gently massaging her scalp. If Eun Mi felt her hair being combed, she gave no sign of acknowledgement. Ienna, on the other hand, went right for the heart of the matter.

“Unnie, you’re biting your nails again. That’s gross.”

Startled, Eun Mi drew her nails away from their fierce enemy. She clasped her hands on her lap. Ienna tossed her hair over her shoulder, leaning forward as much as her seatbelt would allow her too. (Eun Mi would not allow Manager Jo to drive if they weren’t all wearing their seatbelts.)

“Unnie, did you break up with Taewoon?”

She whirled around so fast, she scared Manager Jo. “No! Ienna don’t ever say that!”

“Did you have a fight with Zee-Yah-Co?” she rolled her eyes as she said his name. “Was he being an asshat again?”

“Ienna, he’s older and a sunbae.”

“He’s not older than you, unnie! What did he do now? Do I need to teach him a lesson? I’ll beat him up, unnie, I swear I will.”

“Don’t swear, Ienna. Honestly, why are your reactions always so explosively American-like? Are you watching American shows?”

Ienna pouted, her doll-like face contrasting her fierce attitude. “You’re not yourself today. We’re all worried.”

Eun Mi sighed. She couldn’t tell them. What had happened had been between Taewoon and Zico. She wasn’t even sure she should have been a part of it herself. Taewoon had called her an hour or two after she’d left. He didn’t bring Zico up. Eun Mi didn’t ask.

He didn’t bring up what she had asked him about, either. The message sat in their Kakao Talk chat unread. She wished she could take it back, but deleting it from her side of the chat didn’t delete it from his.

Taewoon had so much to deal with. She shouldn’t inconvenience him.

“I’m,” she paused. “I’m just worried about Taewoon.”

DAEE sat up, her eyes narrowed. “Was he eliminated? Did he not make it into a team?”

“What are you talking about?” ReNA asked. “Eliminated from what?”

“Show Me the Money 4,” DAEE replied. “Unnie, did he?”

Eun Mi sighed, nodding. “I’m just worried for him, is all.”

Ienna watched her carefully, eyes intent. She didn’t and did believe her. “Isn’t Zico his dongsaeng? Why didn’t he give him a second chance?”

“Because that show is crap,” DAEE hissed. “They’re full of . The judges and the production crew. Everything you see is either scripted or blown out of proportion by their editing. I hate that show. They wouldn’t even refer to Taewoon sunbaenim by his name! They had him captioned as ‘Zico’s hyung’ the entire time! I was so proud and happy when Jay Park sunbaenim told the other judges not to call him ‘Zico’s hyung.’ His cypher was the best one. If they eliminated him after that, then it was definitely rigged. Which team did he choose?”

Eun Mi blinked at her. “V-Verbal Jint’s?”

“Man! You’re telling me that he chose the team with San E? Out of all the teams he chose that one? Who did they choose over him? Do you know?”

“B-Blacknut? I think that’s his name? I’m not sure.”

“What?! Oh my GAWD!” DAEE buried her hands in her hair and pulled. “Are you kidding me right now? Did they seriously choose someone as volatile as him over Taewoon sunbaenim? What were they thinking? That stupid show!”

The girls sat in shock, listening to DAEE’s tirade. Eun Mi was touched that DAEE knew much of Taewoon. She hadn’t said much when she’d first brought him up. Now, she had a lot to say.

As a rapper, DAEE knew more about the culture of hip hop than any of them did, especially Eun Mi. Just because she could imitate rappers didn’t mean she knew anything about rapping. And DAEE said that was the problem.

Idol rappers were criticized because they were trained to rap by a company. They didn’t decide to do it, they were told to. While some were still talented and meant to succeed as hip hop artists, the truth was the industry was not ready for it just quite yet. The culture of hip hop was a cutthroat world that, at its most raw, would be appalling to the general public.

By the time they arrived at the company, their heads swam with information about hip hop and rapping and rap history and rappers that made a difference and—what had they just heard? Ienna was the first to jump ship.

“DAEE unnie, you never talk but when you do, you give us a hip hop overload.” If she had not been forced to wear fluffy slippers due to the stitches on her feet, Ienna would have bolted out of the car. Unfortunately, she had to wait for Chae to help her out.

“It just makes me so angry sometimes.”

ReNA raised her eyebrows. “Does this mean that you’ll never try to appear in Unpretty Rapstar?”

“No way! I’ll prove my worth as CELESTIAL’s rapper! I don’t need any of that crap. If I can’t do it with CELESTIAL, I can’t do it at all!”

Chae grinned, threw her arms around DAEE’s neck, and rubbed their cheeks together. “Aw, you’re so sweet! But at least put out a mixtape? Is that what they’re called?”

DAEE groaned, exasperated with the lot of them. “Yes, unnie, it’s called a mixtape.”

Somehow, having someone be as angry for Taewoon as she was made Eun Mi feel better. She wrapped her arm around DAEE’s waist, swaying along with her as they entered the building. When the receptionist greeted them, Manager Jo made them laugh by exaggerating the punishment that was driving a bunch of crazy girls around.

“I must have betrayed a nation in some past life!”

“No,” Ienna sang, “you definitely saved it! I mean, you are stuck, I mean blessed! With us!”

Manager Jo cast the receptionist a desperate look. “Help me.”

They laughed until their stomachs hurt.

Feeling better but not entirely herself, Eun Mi headed down to the fourth level basement after lunch. She had about two hours to spare before her vocal lessons, she figured she could go see what the trainees were up to and how they were doing.

Memories of her years as a trainee, every single day, resurfaced. Her mind, flooded, swirled with images of years past. Suddenly, she found herself thinking of that one trainee she had never gotten along with.

For the longest time, Eun Mi had stood by her silence, refusing to say why that girl had hated her so much. It was perhaps one of the few lies Eun Mi had ever told to herself and others.

She knew why she had been hated. She knew that girl had actually really admired her until the moment she’d learned that Eun Mi had no dreams.

Back then, Eun Mi had been going through the motions. If they told her to practice, she practiced. If they told her to lose weight, she did. They told her to aim for debut, so she did. Through mediocre efforts, Eun Mi had passed each monthly evaluation. She rose through the trainee ranks unsure of what she wanted to do with her life.

Mediocre. All of her attempts had been mediocre. It had taken a fall down the stairs to make her realize that she could be stealing someone’s dreams and hopes.

“If you’re going to be a thief,” Aunt Minha had told her, “be a damn good one. Be the best.”

And so Eun Mi had given her training her undivided attention, her full efforts. She had stolen someone’s dream. Being an idol, it had never felt right. That dream had not been hers. It belonged to someone else.

She thought of Taewoon, of his efforts and his struggles. He wanted so much to be acknowledged for his talent that he submitted himself to the most difficult of trials. The little she knew about hip hop was enough to make her nervous.

A cutthroat world full of disses and hurtful words, , and the degrading of women. Eun Mi could never survive such an environment. She wondered how or why Taewoon would submit himself to that. She wondered just how far he went in certain areas. It made her uncomfortable, so she didn’t think about it much. All she knew was that it mattered to Taewoon.

Becoming a recognized artist and rapper was Taewoon’s dream. It was something he wanted, something he really, really wanted. Eun Mi would support and encourage him because that’s what she wanted to do. She wanted Taewoon to feel supported and encouraged.

He had talent, he had passion.

Right then, Eun Mi felt she lacked both, especially passion. She wondered if she should have become an idol. She wondered if she should have become such a great thief.

Where would she be now if she had not debuted? Most definitely she would have remained in Seoul for a few more years or maybe she would have moved back to America, gone to an actual college, made friends, and met up with study groups instead of doing it all on her own through an online college the way she had.

One thing she knew for sure: she would not have to deal with Zico. Or the anti-fan. Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t be so anxious all the time. Maybe.

With everything that was going on with Taewoon, Zico, and the anti-fan, Eun Mi felt very…shaky.

Her hands had not stopped trembling since she had left Taewoon’s side. She wanted to—what did she want? What did she even feel?

As she walked around, she spotted a trainee slumped against the corner of a practice booth. She could not have been older than eighteen. Her hair looked as if she had not combed it in a few days. Acne spread across her cheeks and forehead. In her hands, she held a paper packet with clear signs of wear.

She had fallen asleep while practicing.

Worried that her neck would hurt from being forced into such an uncomfortable position, Eun Mi allowed herself into the cramped area. She shook the girl’s shoulder carefully.

She roused, greatly startled. “I wasn’t slacking off, Ms. Kim, I promise!”

Eun Mi smiled. “Sleeping and slacking off are two very different things if you ask me.”

The girl blinked, gathering her bearings. She recognized Eun Mi eventually, her eyes growing wide. “Eun Mi sunbaenim!”

The girl jumped to her feet, scattering her papers, bowing and bowing and bowing. Eun Mi bowed in return, laughed, and gather up her papers for her. She paused, looking over her annotated work.

“Say,” Eun Mi whispered, “what’s your name? I haven’t seen you around before. Did you just start training with us?”

The girl’s eyes widened. She fussed with her hair, pushing it out of her face multiple times. “Na-Nari. Jeon Nari! I-I just started training here two weeks ago.”

“Jeon Nari. That’s a really pretty name.”

Nari beamed. “S-sunbaenim! I’m a huge fan!” She bowed again.

Eun Mi smiled, thanking her. She held up her papers, her eyebrows raised. “Did you pick this song, Nari-ah?”

She blushed at the affectionate way in which Eun Mi spoke to her, as if she were a precious little sister and not a pesky trainee with an undetermined future.

“Y-yes! I’m working really hard to be able to perform it during the monthly evaluation.”

“It’s a challenging song. Do you know what it means?”

Nari bit her lip. “T-that’s why I’m translating it as much as I can.”

Eun Mi read over her notes, smiling. “I used to do the same thing. I would translate so many songs before singing them. I really like this song, too. I sang it once.”

“R-really?”

“Kain played the piano. I think we did it for a monthly evaluation? I can’t quite remember, but I know we both sang it as trainees.” She paused then laughed. “I can’t remember! I’ll have to ask him.”

“I-I didn’t know that! I wish I could have heard it.”

Laughing, Eun Mi handed her papers back. “We weren’t nearly as good as we are now. I’m sure they scolded us greatly that day.”

A rap on the door made them both turn. Kain stood just outside, looking slightly annoyed. Eun Mi tilted her head, questioning.

“Noona, why aren’t you answering your phone? I’ve been looking for you.”

Eun Mi fished her phone out of her pocket, checking. “Oops, it was on vibrate. I didn’t hear it, sorry. What do you need me for?”

“Lesson.”

She gasped. “Oh my gosh! Nari, I’m so sorry but I, no, we have to run!”

“A-ah, y-yeah! Okay, bye!”

Eun Mi gave her the kindest smile she was capable of giving. Nari’s heart melted into a puddle at her feet. Kain leaned against the door, seemingly indifferent.

“What where you doing all the way down there?” he asked her once they were in the elevator.

“I was just thinking.”

“About whether you should have become an idol?”

Eun Mi cast him a sidelong glance. Kain, aside from Su Jong, was one of her most trusted confidants. Their situations were different, but they understood what it was like to be foreigners among friends.

“How did you know?”

“Because I’ve wondered that, too.”

“What do you think?”

Kain leaned against the elevator’s wall, his hands in his pockets. He stared at the small numbers change. “I don’t know.”

The elevator dinged. The doors opened.

“Yeah. Me either.”

They went to their lesson.

Taewoon slept in.

Taewoon slept in and in and in. The hours that he had lost while practicing, preparing, were being cashed in. He had no manager to wake him up for a schedule. He had no lessons to attend. He didn’t even have the rest of SPEED to crash in and wrestle him awake.

He woke up a little past one o’clock, feeling rested but sad. Without checking his phone, he headed to the shower. He could hear Zico moving around the apartment.

Taewoon tried not to think. He tried not to think about the fact that he was unemployed or that he had been eliminated from SMTM. He tried not to think about anything that he could not immediately solve, which, at the moment, was the entirety of his life.

He stayed under the running water until it turned cold. He then wrapped a towel around his waist, brushing his teeth as he gazed vacantly at his reflection in the fogged up mirror. Eventually, with his toothbrush poking at his cheek, he took his cellphone in hand, powering it up.

There, water dripping from his hair, running down his calves onto the floor, he read Eun Mi’s message. Stunned. Taewoon was stunned.

He rushed into the bathroom, spitting the mouthful of toothpaste into the sink. He cursed as he walked into the corner of his dresser. It clattered loudly enough to bring Zico into his room.

“Hyung! What was that?”

“Hey, what time is it now?” Taewoon asked as he rushed about looking for things. He wondered if he had enough clothes even when he so clearly did not.

“What?”

“Time, Jiho-ah! Time!”

Zico checked his phone. “A quarter past three.”

Taewoon cursed. “I’m going home.”

“Hyung?”

Taewoon cursed again as he realized he had not yet dressed. He threw on some clean clothes before rushing past Zico.

“Hey! Hyung! What’s going on? Did something happen?” Zico chased after him, his bare face swollen from sleep. “Did something happen to Eun Mi?”

Finding his Jordans proved a lot easier for Taewoon with Eun Mi’s OCD shoe racks; Zico watched him, perplexed, worried.

“No, nothing happened to her,” he smiled over his shoulder. “Look at you worrying about her. Just last night you hated her.”

Zico’s cheeks flushed. “I don’t hate her.”

“I know. . Where are my keys? My phone! Dammit!”

“Hyung!” Zico cried exasperated as he followed a now barefooted Taewoon around the apartment. "What is going on?”

Taewoon, after having retrieved his phone, wallet, and keys, took his kid brother’s face between his hands. His aegyo-sal intensified as he smiled, squeezing Zico’s cheeks together.

“Something good, Jiho-ah.”

“Hey! Where are you going?” Zico chased after him, propping the door open when it tried to shut behind him. “Hyung!”

“I’ll tell you later!”

Zico watched as Taewoon opted for the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. “Hyung!”

But Taewoon had already gone, the emergency exit banging loudly behind him.

Eun Mi sat in the middle of her room, her suitcase beside her. The movers had placed her furniture carefully in very much the same layout as in their previous dorm. Their lessons and practices had ended early, granting them the time needed to settle back in. Na Na unnie was in charge of the kitchen and living room; the girls were all expected to finish setting up their rooms by nightfall.

ReNA and Ienna had decided to room together this time around, sending DAEE and Chae into the bedroom across the hall. Na Na unnie and Eun Mi had their own rooms, of course.

DAEE, ever so practical, had packed in a manner that made it much easier for her to unpack. She had finished hours earlier and she now sat with Eun Mi, listening to SHINee’s latest album, Odd, on repeat. She sang along to Trigger, her favorite song from this particular album, as she watched Eun Mi pack the clothes she reserved for her trips to America.

Eun Mi didn’t pack much when she headed back to her hometown. DAEE, even after so many years with her, still could not figure out why she went so suddenly in mid-summer. Their leader didn’t lie, not really. She never told the kinds of lies that would be harmful to others, nor did she try to squirm her way out of a situation by making up a thing or two. What she did do, more than any of them, was keep secrets.

DAEE doubted Eun Mi meant to do so. She doubted that she willingly withheld her feelings and thoughts from them. She spent so much time looking after them that it was nearly impossible to blame her of anything as grave as that. No, DAEE believe Eun Mi just didn’t know how to share her sorrows with them. Everything else, she shared willingly, openly. But not her difficulties.

Once, DAEE had talked to Ryouta about it, talked about how Eun Mi did not confide in them the way they confided in her. Ryouta had listened to her for a long time, giving her knee a small, comforting pat when she finished. DAEE had not expected him to provide a solution, but he did provide her with a small, commonly known fact: “That is the struggle of a leader. They take care of others before themselves. And that’s lonely.”

A leader cared for others, placed their needs above their own. At least, that is what it seemed like to DAEE. Tae Jun and Eun Mi were always asking them if they were doing well, if they needed anything; they always set time aside for each member no matter how busy their own schedules were.

So at first, DAEE figured that Eun Mi didn’t share much with them because of her position as a leader. It was later, while having a late night conversation with Chae while they were still trainees, where DAEE learned that Eun Mi couldn’t actually speak to anyone about that certain aspect of her life.

“Ma Ri unnie’s parents passed away when she was only twelve or thirteen. She’s been a little sick ever since.”

A little sick meant a summer cold. A little sick meant a slight fever. A little sick did not mean having night terrors that visited you every so often, having your nerves chewed raw by constant worries. A little sick did not mean losing the ability to breathe because something simple could suddenly become so scary.

No, Eun Mi’s mind was made of paper. It was frail, delicate, easily crumpled. Why she continued to work in an environment that continuously placed her under constant stress and scrutiny, DAEE would never understand.

DAEE wanted Eun Mi to get better. She wanted her away from all the difficulties of the idol life. She wanted Eun Mi far away, safely stowed inside a cabin in the French countryside, far from everything that could hurt her.

At the same time, DAEE wanted Eun Mi with her. She wanted to spend her youth under her guidance, tutelage, and friendship. She couldn’t do much either way. It was all up to Eun Mi. Whether she remained an idol or retired from the publics’ eye, DAEE could not make that decision for her. All she could do was protect her as much as she could with her limited abilities.

Which is why she had never told Eun Mi about her relationship. DAEE had not meant to keep it a secret, at least, not at first. She had not said anything the first few months because—well, she didn’t want to make it a big deal. She feared that it would end before it really begun, despite the magnitude of her feelings for that person. DAEE figured, why tell them when it could end badly?

But that was just the thing, it didn’t end badly. In fact, it didn’t end at all. It wasn’t ending. And because it wasn’t ending, DAEE had now wrapped herself in a shroud of secrets and sneaky comings and goings.

She wanted to tell Eun Mi. She wanted to tell the rest of CELESTIAL. The only problem was how terrified DAEE was.

After the events with Zico, Eun Mi’s mental health had slowly, gradually, declined. Auntie Minha said that she would regain her footing, that all she needed was a bit of time and something to focus on.

No one could have predicted that she would end up dating Woo Taewoon, placing herself closer to the trigger than anyone could have ever anticipated.

DAEE thought of Eun Mi’s mind as being made of paper. Paper became so frail and torn when wet. It became a big soggy, clumped, deformed mess. If she were to reveal her relationship now, Eun Mi’s mind could not handle it. It could not.

No matter how much she wanted to, DAEE could not tell her.

And he couldn’t tell Tae Jun either, no matter how much he wanted to.

Eun Mi felt DAEE recede into herself the longer she sat by her. She continued to sing Trigger mindlessly, missing the tone and effect of the song entirely. Eun Mi wondered if she was thinking of her significant other. Maybe things weren’t going so well between them.

She really wished DAEE would just tell her. At least then she could ask her about it.

AOA’s Like a Cat clashed with Trigger, creating a strange, rather unpleasant cacophony. Startled out of her thoughts, DAEE watched Eun Mi dive for her phone as she simultaneously paused Odd.

“Taewoon!” she said as a form of greeting.

“Hello to you, too.”

She smiled nervously, gripping a large chunk of hair in her hand. “H-how are you? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Eun Mi-ah, I don’t think I’ll be able to go see you off at the airport. Something came up.”

If Eun Mi’s shoulders weren’t attached to the rest of her body, they would have drooped all the way to the floor. She lowered herself onto her newly washed bed, her eyes fixated on her feet. “Is everything alright? What about Jiho?”

“He’s fine. He’s going to work later. Follow the Leader or Unpretty Rapstar or Show Me the Money, one of those.”

“Oh. But, Taewoon, are you—?”

“I have to go. Eun Mi-ah, I’ll call you later. Actually, no. Message me when you get to America.”

“Tae—”

“Be safe.”

He hung up. Just like that.

Eun Mi held her phone to her ear for a while longer. DAEE stood, treading carefully as she sat beside her. “Unnie?”

Eun Mi inhaled deeply, smiling a broad smile that DAEE could so clearly see contained so much hurt in it. DAEE remembered her first argument with that person. She remembered how much it hurt. She knew what it was like, but she could not say anything.

The door swung open, smacking the wall rather loudly. They jumped. Eun Mi scolded, “Ienna! How many times have I told you not to kick doors open?!”

Ienna strutted into the room, gingerly hobbling about with her crutches. “My hands are full. Unnie, did you have a fight with Taewoon?”

“Ienna,” DAEE whispered, shocked at her insensitivity.

“What? I caught the end of the conversation. Unnie, I swear if he’s going to be a jerk, I will beat him up.”

Eun Mi smiled. “I think I’m more qualified and capable of beating him up than any one of us here.”

Ienna rolled her eyes. “All you have is a second dan in Tae Kwon Do. I have crutches.”

DAEE feared for Eun Mi’s life; she couldn’t stop laughing.

“You’re such an ,” Jungwoo said. He plopped down on Taewoon’s bed, earning him a heavy smack on the stomach. “Ooow!”

“What are you even doing here? Get off my bed. Get out of my house. Goodbye, I’m busy.”

Taewoon opened up his suitcase, piling up clothes. He stopped, considered something briefly, and then proceeded to switch out the shirts he’d selected, trading the long sleeves for short ones. Jungwoo closed his eyes, his hands behind his head.

“Where are you going?”

“Far, far away. Somewhere you can’t follow me.”

“Are you going with the little owlet?”  

“What?”

“Song Eun Mi.”

Taewoon paused. Jungwoo opened his eyes when he felt Taewoon’s gaze on him. He smiled, a slow smile.

“What? Do you think you’re the only one that notices how big her eyes get when she’s surprised? She’s like a baby owl. Big eyed and tiny.”

Taewoon didn’t smack his stomach this time, he full on sat on him. Jungwoo wheezed, coughed, and hit his back.

“Get off! You’re heavy! Get off!”

“Hey, you better be careful about what you say.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now, get off!”

They shouted at each other for a while longer, Taewoon throwing clothes at him while he packed, Jungwoo smacking it away. Their playful banter had been going on for years. Jungwoo would usually shower Taewoon with affection; Taewoon would usually reject it. That was the foundation of their friendship. Loving and strange and full of shouting.

“Is it true?” Jungwoo inquired as he caught a flying hoodie. “Did the company terminate your contract?”

Taewoon didn’t miss a beat, “It’s true.”

For a few seconds, Jungwoo didn’t say anything. “I’m thinking about leaving the company.”

It was Taewoon’s turn to pause. He placed his laptop in its case, zipping it up. “When?”

“Soon. My contract is almost up.”

Taewoon nodded.

“You don’t seem terribly surprised.”

“I’m not.”

“Do you think I’m being selfish? I’d be leaving SPEED.”

“I left SPEED first.”

“Yes, but you had a reason. A good one.”

Taewoon’s eyes met Jungwoo’s. A past lifetime of struggles resided within their gaze. Taewoon looked away, closing his suitcase. “You have one, too. We all do.”

They needed no words to understand. They had both lived through it, lived through the company’s betrayal and inefficiency.

MBK had failed to protect Co-Ed School. They had failed to protect the idols under their care. They had failed to defend them against vicious lies and doubly vicious truths. The entire mess that had been Co-Ed School had caused so much pain and trouble. SPEED had risen from the ashes of Co-Ed, but survived just barely. After all, they never were allowed to fly.

Upon his departure, Taewoon knew that he would be the beginning of a domino effect. He had suspected, early on, that Jungwoo would forgo the renewal of a contract. He also knew the other members were silently, slowly, moving away from the tragedy that was SPEED, seeking new horizons and knocking on better opportunities.

So, hearing Jungwoo finally voice his speculations didn’t take Taewoon by surprise at all. And Jungwoo, having seen Taewoon leave SPEED, the group he had poured so much of himself into, and successively being fired from MBK despite all his hard work, refused to allow MBK to steal more of his youth.

Jungwoo felt as if he were rotting. He felt as if his talent had begun to fester from disuse and mistreatment. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his flesh peeling off his bones; the nightmare of a youth gone to waste.

The expression on Taewoon’s face told him that he wasn’t the only one that thought that way. A thin smile spread across his face. “Who else?”

“Sejun.”

“Is he leaving the company?”

“I’m not too sure. He seems to be leaning towards acting and modeling.”

He nodded. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“What are you going to do now that you’re,” Jungwoo paused, smacking his lips in bitter thought, “between jobs?”

Taewoon laughed, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Jungwoo, my dear, same-age friend, don’t worry about me. I’ll be alright. Like a cockroach, I’ll come back to life.”

“You’re so disgusting. Does Eun Mi-ah know you talk like this? Hey, tell her to dump you. You’re going to hell for being with such a nice girl. It’s a mortal sin to be such a disgusting person and force someone like Eun Mi to be with you.”

Taewoon’s arms morphed from limp embrace to a forceful headlock. Jungwoo gripped his forearms, smacking them as he fought for breath.

“K-kidding. K-kidding!”

“You say the weirdest, most ridiculous things.” Taewoon released him, propelling him towards the door. “Now get out.”

Jungwoo turned, hugging Taewoon tightly, squeezing him half to death. “But I came to see you, my Taewoonie.”

“My God, you’re such a leech. If you have so much free time, drive me to the airport.”

“Anything for my Taewoonie.”

“Shut the up.”

Su Jong pulled his cap lower over his eyes, pushing his mask higher up the bridge of his nose. Eun Mi stood a ways off, debating whether to check her bag in or carry it up onto the airplane with her.

Dressed so simply, she looked like a common tourist. Her glasses slid down her nose so often, the action of pushing them up seemed to become a nervous tic. She wore her hair up in a high ponytail, secured beneath a cap. Without makeup, no one could recognize her.

Su Jong wasn’t so lucky. Despite being at the airport so late, curious eyes could still recognize him. It amazed him how Eun Mi managed to get away unperceived every year. She disappeared for a week and no one noticed. It was witchcraft, Su Jong was sure of it.

Finally, after what felt like ages, Eun Mi finally left the airline’s check-in desk without her bag. She hopped over to him, holding onto the straps of her backpack with both hands. Su Jong glanced around nervously.

“Calm down,” she whispered in English. “No one is here. It’s way too late for that.”

One of the perks of being best friends with Song Eun Mi was how she eased the process of learning different languages. Su Jong had managed to learn English through courses given by the company, but he had learned Spanish by spending hours with Eun Mi. Japanese came through courses and Ryouta’s careful instruction.

“Will you keep doing this every year?”

Only Su Jong could ask a question like that so bluntly and with annoyance. Eun Mi didn’t smile; she didn’t need to, not around Su Jong.

“Believe me, I want to stop, too.”

“Ma Ri, you already have so much. Why do you keep going back to what you lost? Your father, he’s dead now. Don’t you think you can stop now?”

Eun Mi gulped, hard. She bit her thumbnail, a sharp clipping sound wanting to echo in the uncongested airport.

“You can’t live these many lives, you know? As Song Ma Ri, as Song Eun Mi, as CELESTIAL’s leader, that’s already so much. Why hold on to another one?”

“Because it’s a part of me Su Jongie. I wouldn’t be here if none of that had happened.”

“No, you would have been back in the States training your youth away to win a silly gold medal.”

“Isn’t that what we did here as well?”

“That’s different.”

“How is it different, Jongie?”

“You want to sing. You never wanted to be an athlete.”

Eun Mi wondered about that. She wondered about that so much.

“All I’m saying,” Su Jong continued, “is that you’re holding onto too much. That’s why you get so jittery. And yes, I know it’s ‘not that simple.’ Nothing ever is. But just try, just try, Ma Ri. I’m not telling you to forget them. They should always be remembered and loved. Just don’t let him control your life as much as he does even from the grave.”

“Sometimes, I really hate you.”

“Trust me, I really hate you, too.”

They smiled, sad smiles that held pain so deep it was nearly impossible to contain. Neither understood how or why they were best friends. Eun Mi’s grief for her parents was unhealthy, but it was that same grief that had given her the courage to yell at Su Jong that fateful summer day. Su Jong’s hatred for his father was unhealthy. It poisoned his heart, led him astray for many years. Yet it was also this passionate hatred that had shown Eun Mi that perhaps rebelling a bit wouldn’t be so terribly bad.

They were still working on getting better. But, in Su Jong’s most humble opinion, Eun Mi was the one that had the longest way to go.

Sighing, he placed his hands in his pockets, looking around. “Isn’t Taewoon hyung coming?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t really know.”

“Beat him up later.”

“Ienna will. She has crutches.”

“Damn, that little girl is feisty. I pity the man that earns her scorn.”

“So, Zico?”

“So, Zico.”

Su Jong walked her over to security check. Once there, he held up his hand. Their fingers intertwined, their palms pressed together tightly, knuckles white.

“Safe travels,” Su Jong whispered.

“Safer stay,” Eun Mi replied.

Just as he had been doing it for years, Su Jong watched her until she was safely on the other side. He prayed that this time, she’d be able to free herself of her father’s demanding memory.

With her passport in one hand, her boarding pass safely tucked within, Eun Mi walked the long, arduous distance from the security check to her departing gate. She felt immensely grateful that she had decided to check her bag in, although she didn’t understand why she wavered each and every time.

Red-eye flights were horrendous, but the near emptiness of the airports during that time gave her the liberty of leaving unperceived. After so many years, they all had the routine well memorized, executing it to perfection. Su Jong liked to be dramatic; he always made such a fuss when he dropped her off.

When her gate finally came into view, Eun Mi sighed with relief. Her calves were burning; for a moment she thought she might lose her flight.

Would that have been such a big deal? She would feel apologetic to her mother, but her father…

“Look at you. If I didn’t know that look already, I would think you were a tourist.”

Eun Mi whirled around, colliding with Taewoon’s massive frame. She yelped, holding her nose, her eyes watering from the pain. Taewoon had caught her glasses. She couldn’t quite make him out, he was only a mere blur, but she could sense him already pulling her glasses on.

“Wow, you’re blind!”

“Woo Taewoon!” she hissed.

“Surprise,” he said, placing her glasses back on her nose.

“You jerk.” Eun Mi threw herself at him, holding on for dear life.

She had been so frightened that he had gotten mad at her. Asking him to join her on her trip to the States right after he had been eliminated…He could have taken it as a great insult. When he’d called earlier, Eun Mi had been ready to go in search of him and beg for his forgiveness. She had been that frightened.

Taewoon placed a gentle kiss on her head regardless of her cap. She squeezed him, holding him closer.

“Ienna’s going to beat you up for being mean to me.”

“You’ll defend me, right?”

“Nope.”

“But she has crutches.”

“It’s just what you deserve.”

The apartment was empty. Zico hadn’t expected to return to a vacant apartment. Though what could he have expected after everything that happened?

His day had been filled with demanding schedules.

Zico here. Zico there. Zico everywhere.

The time he’d considered so precious, the time to make amends, slipped right through his fingers as if he weren’t so desperately trying to hold onto it. He believed it vital to sort things out tonight. He had to. Bridges could burn so easily, especially when soaked with bad blood.

He had not expected Taewoon to disappear so suddenly. At least, Zico had figured, he would see him later. Now, later had come and Taewoon was nowhere to be found.

Zico called Taewoon. It went straight to voicemail. He called Eun Mi. Voicemail.

A really cold weight settled on his chest.

He felt so very alone.