Zico arrived at HQ a few minutes after the main cameras had been turned off for the night. Without much thought, he headed up to Eun Mi and Chorong’s room.

In the second floor’s television and living room area, Chorong sat with Gyuri’s head on her lap, her fingers lightly tapping on the face mask Gyuri sported with grace and poise.

Chorong smiled at him. “Hiya, Zico! I didn’t think we would see you tonight.”

Unable to speak from the mask, all Gyuri did was give him a good natured wave of her fingers. Zico jumped when Sunggyu appeared from the other end of the coffee table. He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes half open. Once he’d woken up enough to be aware of his surroundings, he raised a casual, lazy hand in greeting.

“Oppa, you should go lay down. You’ll get sick like that,” Chorong said.

Sunggyu mumbled, resuming his former position on the floor, all notion of being Infinite’s charismatic leader forgotten.

That happened in HQ after the cameras were turned off: idols forgot that they were idols. They ate, slept, cleaned, and interacted the way normal roommates would. A leader among leaders became just a regular member. A celebrity among celebrities lost all wonder.

One of the reasons Zico disliked being in HQ was because to everyone in there he was just Zico, their maknae. He could never get used to it, not even when Jimin had said there was really nothing impressive about him in Upretty Rapstar. Here he was just Zico. He had not been just Zico for a long time.

“Where’s everyone else?”

Chorong didn’t look up. “Tae Jun oppa went for some food with Jimin and Jonghoon oppa.”

“This late?”

“Would you be the one that stopped them later?”

“No. I value my life.”

“So do we.”

“What about the rest?”

Chorong understood this to mean “Where is Eun Mi?”

“Hyorin unnie had an overseas schedule. N oppa is with s. Eun Mi won’t be back until next week.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, yeah, Zico-yah, we have a mission scheduled for next Sunday. They say it will be an MT of sorts.”

“Doesn’t CELESTIAL have their comeback next week as well?”

Chorong nodded, giving Gyuri’s cheeks the final taps. “They are. Eun Mi will have to head to the MT right after they film their MV. Or was it before? I can’t quite remember.”

“INFINITE will be in the middle of promotions as well,” said a half-conscious Sunggyu.

“SHINee will be promoting for about two weeks, too, from the looks of it.”

“Their promotions were pushed back,” Sunggyu yawned. “Minho hurt his ankle.”

“Oh no! Poor Eun Mi will have a heart attack! Their promotions are bound to overlap this time around since CELESTIAL’s were also pushed back,” said Chorong.

“Even if they hadn’t been delayed, they would have met with them during their last week,” Gyuri assured her. “It’s not like Chae will have it easy with INFINITE around, either.”

“Hey!”

“Does Chae not like INFINITE? Does Eun Mi not like SHINee?” Zico asked, finally taking a seat by Sunggyu. “Don’t worry, hyung, I like you.”

“Not like them?” Sunggyu laughed, accepting Zico’s hug. “Nah, Eun Mi-ah doesn’t like SHINee. She absolutely worships them!”

Chorong shushed Sunggyu, hastily redirecting the conversation. “Chae loves INFINITE. By the way oppa, that 360 MV you guys released was amazing. Was it difficult to film?”

Confused, Zico listened to Sunggyu unconvincingly follow Chorong’s lead. The conversation headed down a road that he was not interested in. INFINITE’s struggles to film the 360 MV really didn’t hold his attention. Sure, it was a great accomplishment, they were the first Hallyu stars to film such a music video, but Zico wanted to hear more about Eun Mi.

“We’re back!” Tae Jun called from the front door. “Hyung! We brought what you asked for!”

“Wah! Tae Jun-ah! You’re the best!”

Zico had never seen Sunggyu move as fast as he did then. Gyuri excused herself, taking shelter in her room. It was no secret that Gyuri felt a little at a loss around Tae Jun. It came across as a grand surprise, KARA’s goddess losing her footing around L6’s strict leader. Most astounding still was how Tae Jun seemed not to mind her in the least.

Chorong stayed in the living area with Zico. She watched him, her eyes soft. “Jiho-ah.”

“Hm? Yes, noona?”

“She’s out of the country.”

“I didn’t—”

“I know you didn’t ask,” Chorong stood up, stretching. With her eyes focused on the stairs, she said, “You might find yourself working together. The production crew has gotten many complaints about the maknaes’ lack of interaction with one another.”

“Noona.”

“Just be careful. Things between the two of you have never been exactly peachy.”

Though Chorong’s words were soft and caring, her worries well-founded and cautious, they made the ache in his chest return.

“Hey, Zico, I didn’t know you would be here,” Tae Jun greeted when he spotted him descending the stairs after Chorong.

“Oh, hyung, I’m just on my way out.”

“You just got here,” Sunggyu said.

“I remembered I have something to do.”

He left before anyone could properly question him as to where he was going. Even Zico did not know.

His wanderings brought him to the place he least expected: Block B’s old dorm. Somehow, it made sense to return to the place where it had all started. Zico sat on the floor, his back against the door to his old residence, legs sprawled out before him.

Zico had a lot of thinking to do. He wondered how he could sort out all of his emotions, organize his exhausted, chaotic mind long enough to figure out what was true and what had become an inflamed, hyperbolic lie.

With music, he didn’t think in words. He thought in melodies, beats, harmonies. Lyrics came later, born out of a single emotion, image, or memory.

The problem was that he wasn’t composing. Zico had to reevaluate all that he knew—or thought he knew. How could he?

Zico closed his eyes, banging his head against the door ever so softly so as to not disturb the new tenants.

His mind unlocked the memory, without warning, lacking grace or sympathy.

He could see her clearly, standing a ways off, holding a jar of homemade strawberry jam. Her skin had blemishes, acne. Her body still had weight to it that she would be required to lose before debut. He liked her at that weight, full and plump. Her thighs had been firm even back then, no doubt due to the sport she practiced. Back then, Zico had had no idea she did martial arts.

How he remembered her so clearly, Zico wasn’t sure.

All she had done was offer him jam, wished him a successful debut period and called him sunbae. He had seen her several times over the course of a week. All she had ever done was greet him. She’d been friendly, polite. Until she had given him a stack letters, fan letters.

“Someone left this by my friend’s front door. I know they shouldn’t be invading your privacy like this, but it’s not our place to throw them out.”

“Your friend’s place? You mean you’re not the one that lives next door?”

“My friend lives there. She’s an unnie, Jung Seo Yeon. I’m house sitting for her.”

Zico, disgusted by the stalker-like nature of the letters and this newfound information, had refused to take them. He’d found them the next morning, neatly piled against the wall.

Zico’s eyes snapped open. Was that it? Was that all that was left of the memory? It couldn’t be. He’d been convinced that she’d done something much more drastic. Something about her behavior had convinced him that she’d been a stalker fan.

Where did his memory go wrong?

The sound of the elevator doors opening startled him. A woman, dressed in business casual, exited with her heels in her hands. She dug around her purse for a few moments, bypassing Zico wordlessly. It wasn’t until she was further down the hall before her own front door that she noticed Zico.

They assessed one another with silent care. She looked vaguely familiar. Suddenly, she sighed, turning her body to face him, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Please tell me you’re not moving back in.”

“E-excuse me?” Zico stood, dusting his pants self-consciously.

“Your presence in this area became a great cause for disturbance when you first arrived. Honestly, no one would like it if you returned. Please, don’t be sentimental and think returning to your origins will help you. It’s too late for that. Your personality is already rotten.”

Zico bristled. “What—?”

“Oh, save it. I’m not your fan and I’m older than you. Write a diss track if you want. But maybe you should teach your fans how to respect others first.”

She turned away, opening her door. Zico suddenly recognized her. “You’re Song Eun Mi’s friend.”

“I am. I would appreciate it if you stopped bothering her.”

Zico nearly hissed. This woman was being beyond rude and condescending. “What did I ever do to you?”

She laughed, a cold, unhappy thing. “Because of you I had all your crazy fans bothering me! All that constant noise and their whining cheers. I couldn’t concentrate on my studies! Because of all the noise I had a nervous breakdown! I had to study for the SATs back then and all your fans did was make a ruckus so huge I lost time to study! If Ma Ri hadn’t convinced me to go away for a few weeks, then I would have definitely failed!”

“You? You lived next door? You’re the unnie she talked about? Seo…Seo…”

“Jung Seo Yeon,” she rolled her eyes. “Did you think Ma Ri came around for you? Ha! She lived one floor above. We’d been friends for years until you came along. She moved and we couldn’t hang out as often. Tsk. If only all those crazy fans had never found out you lived here. Crazy stalkers.”

“S-she lived here?”

“Duh. Why? Did you think she was your stalker? She’s not even your fan.”

“T-that—”

“Listen, Zi-A-Co. Leave Ma Ri alone. She has suffered so much already. Let her enjoy her career without involving her with your crazy fans.”

“You sound so convinced it’s one of my Bees that is bothering her.”

Seo Yeon rasied an eyebrow. “She’s standing outside. Waiting for you.”

“What?” Zico closed the distance between them with long strides, his eyes changing from bewildered to sharp and frightening. “Who did you see?”

Seo Yeon opened the door to her apartment, not in the least bit intimidated by the large man before her. “She’s wearing a Block B hoodie. She asked me if you’d moved back in. She said she was your sister.” She scoffed. “Anyone with half a brain would know you only have Woo Taewoon.”

Zico opened his mouth, freezing as he heard the elevator ding in arrival. Without hesitating, he took Seo Yeon by the shoulders, pushing her inside her apartment, closing the door behind him.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“Shh!” Zico placed his hand over her lips, feeling her lipstick taint his palm. “Be quiet. Don’t move.”

Instinctively, Zico wrapped his arm around her, squeezing her to him. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. With his back against the door, Zico kept his ears open, straining to hear beyond the door.

Footsteps traveled down the hall towards them, stopping right outside the door. Someone rang the doorbell, causing Seo Yeon to jump in Zico’s arms. Her eyes darted around nervously.

“Unnie,” a voice said from outside. It chilled them, the hint of madness they could so clearly hear in it. “I’m the girl from downstairs. You told me to come visit you, unnie.”

Zico turned to Seo Yeon. She shook her head violently, denying the crazy claims. The girl outside rang the doorbell once more.

“Unnie, you said you would introduce me to Zico. I saw him come inside. Zico—no, oppa,” she giggled. “Oppa, I know you’re inside. I can smell your cologne through the door.”

Zico’s body jerked away from the door, causing the motion detector to light the bulbs overhead. The stalker rapped on the door frantically.

“Oppa! Is that you? I can see your shadow now!”

Seo Yeon’s eyes widened, she tightened her hand on Zico’s wrist. He could see the frantic fear being born behind her once steadily confident gaze. The stalker banged on the door.

“Open up, unnie! You promised to let me inside! Open up you, !”

Something shattered against the door. Zico jumped away, protecting Seo Yeon instinctively. He released , taking no notice of how her lipstick had smeared across her lips and cheek. His own hand was a plum colored mess.

“Do you have a security camera attached to your doorbell?” he whispered.

Seo Yeon shook her head. Zico cursed.

“Oh! Oppa! Was that you? I know you’re inside! I just heard you!”

Seo Yeon glared at Zico accusingly. She would have smacked him if she hadn’t been so afraid the stalker would hear it and be provoked.

“Call the cops,” Zico whispered. “Tell her you’re doing so.”

“M-me?”

“Do you want her to break down the door once she hears me?” Zico hissed.

A loud bang made Seo Yeon scream. She covered her head with both hands, Zico shielding her protectively. Whatever the stalker had in her hands allowed her to continue banging against the door.

“She’s making dents!” Seo Yeon gasped. “Zico, she’s making dents on the door!”

“Noona,” Zico took Seo Yeon by the shoulders. “Tell her you’re calling the cops. Hurry!”

Seo Yeon shook her head, frightened. “What if she just gets angrier?”

“Noona.”

Whimpering, Seo Yeon reached for her cell phone at the same time that Zico took her hand in his, squeezing it tightly. Seo Yeon inhaled, gathering her strength.

“Hey! I don’t know who the hell you are but you better leave before I call the cops!”

“Give me my oppa! I know he’s in there!”

Seo Yeon’s eyes narrowed. “I’m calling the cops!”

Without saying anything else, she did just that. Zico held her hand the entire time, keeping his body between her and the door.

The stalker continued to bang against the door, leaving several more signs of damage. Seo Yeon squeaked several times while she talked to the operator, delivering her address shakily.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the banging stopped. Something clattered against the ground. The sound of storming footsteps receded down the hallway. The sound of the emergency stairway’s door slamming shut made them wince.

“She’s getting away,” Zico stood, anger burning his skin. “She’s getting away again.”

Seo Yeon, tugged on his arm. “Hide. Go into my bedroom. Stay there until the cops leave. Turn your phone off. Don’t make a single sound.”

“What?”

“If they know you’re in here, the press is bound to find out. It will be another scandal.”

“Ms. Seo Yeon—”

Seo Yeon scoffed. “Whatever happened to noona? Never mind that. Stay in my room. Take your shoes off, but take them with you. Hurry!”

Zico had no choice.

While Jung Seo Yeon talked to the police in her living room, Zico stood awkwardly insider her tidy bedroom. It was exactly as he expected it to be, well organized and clean. Apologetically, he sat on her bed, exhaling his exhaustion.

He could not believe that had just happened. He’d been followed back to his old dorm!

Zico rubbed his hands together, his nerves raw. He’d been surrounded by all types of fans since the beginning. Those that truly loved Block B, those that loved the rest of Block B but feared or hated him. He’d even come across those that could not stop crying after meeting him. His Bees were the cutest and strongest.

But among them there were a few that surpassed everything and anything he’d ever seen. There were fans that invaded his privacy and that of the people around him. They left messages, gifts, even their phone numbers by his front door. Then there were the stalkers that tried to sneak into his house. He’d moved several times because of it.

However, this was the first time Zico had to deal with a fan as crazy as this one. He’d never before been followed so closely. Never had a complete stranger been placed in danger because of him.

“Ms. Jung Seo Yeon, we’ll need for you to come down to the station and give us a statement,” Zico heard one of the cops say. “We have to investigate this carefully.”

“Of course, officer. But, may I change first? I’ve been at work all day.”

“Of course, of course. We’ll wait just outside.”

Zico stood when she entered. He rubbed his hands against his pants, drying the sweat that had made them clammy.

“I have to go down to the station. What do you want me to tell them?”

Zico blinked, confused. “Tell them the truth.”

“If I do that, the press will have a field day. They’ll know it’s one of your fans.”

“Whomever she is, she is not a fan. She’s a crazy person. A stalker. Tell them the truth.”

“Even if it places you in a difficult situation?”

“Yes. Tell the truth.”

Seo Yeon crossed her arms. She regarded him for a very long time. Eventually, she sighed, dropping her arms and heading for her closet. “Ma Ri always told me you weren’t half bad. I suppose being related to Taewoon is bound to guarantee a few good traits.”

“You’ve met my hyung?”

“Only once. He was at the dojo when I went over.” She smiled as if she were remembering a fond memory. “Honestly, Ma Ri is so lucky. He’s such a great catch.”

Her words left Zico feeling beyond awkward and inadequate. He cleared his throat. “I’ll pay for the damage done to your front door. I’ll have my manager contact you.”

“Please do.”

He opened his mouth, ready to ask, but held back. Seo Yeon noticed this; she raised her eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I-if you don’t mind my asking, how did you and Eun Mi become friends?”

Seo Yeon pointed to a framed photograph resting on her dresser. In it, a younger Seo Yeon had her arm around an even younger Eun Mi’s shoulders. Both their arms were raised over their heads, pearlescent aqua light sticks in their hands.

“We met during one of SHINee’s live performances. We’ve been close ever since.”

“S-SHINee?”

“Mm. Our history began with SHINee and it will end with SHINee. Which means never.”

A sparkle came to her eyes, one that Zico had witnessed in BBC before. It was the sparkle of a fan’s undying love for their idol.

Zico came to the slow, belated realization that Eun Mi was a fan of SHINee. He recalled all the times she’d sang along to SHINee, lyrics perfectly executed. He remembered Tae Jun teasing her about the constant pearlescent aqua color that somehow always found its way into her clothing or personal objects.

He didn’t want to ask, but he had to. “Ms. Seo Yeon?”

“What is it?”

“Did Eun Mi become an idol to meet SHINee?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Do you think she would have left her parents’ graves back in America just to meet five idols? Of course not! Don’t underestimate our Ma Ri like that!”

“Her parents’ graves?”

Before Seo Yeon could answer, one of the cops knocked on her front door, asking if she was okay.

“I’ll be right there!” Seo Yeon called back. She turned to Zico, sighing. “Stay here for an hour or so. The police said they would secure the area. I’ll text you when they say it’s clear.”

She handed him her phone as she went into the bathroom to change. Zico pressed his number in, his thoughts consumed by what he’d just learned. He didn’t hear Seo Yeon tell him that there was food in the fridge if he wanted something to eat or that she expected him to feed her cat before she got back.

No, Zico’s mind had dived into the darkest abyss. He could not move; after he took his seat on the corner of Seo Yeon’s bed, he sat in darkness until she returned. She’d screamed in fright upon finding him there, elbows on knees, head hanging limply.

“What are you still doing here, Zico? I told you it was safe to leave an hour ago!”

Zico didn’t seem to hear her. All he knew, all he heard, was the constant whisper of that black abyss in his mind: You were wrong. You were wrong. You. Were. Wrong.

Jung Seo Yeon was not a night owl. She went to bed early, rose even earlier, and worked diligently every day. Except for the weeks SHINee had active promotions, Seo Yeon took great care with her diet, sleeping habits, and daily schedule. She was a strong, independent woman whose world was black and white with very few gray areas.

People were inherently good or inherently bad, pushovers or manipulators. She could count her close friends with a single hand and have fingers to spare. Seo Yeon was a business woman, an academic, and SHINee World. That was it. She had no time or need for anything else. Especially not a zoned out K-Pop idol that refused to react.

Zico sat at her dining room table motionless, his eyes glazed over, focused on something far, far away. Seo Yeon was at a loss, cranky from the night’s events and from having to stay up past her bedtime. What could she do with an idol undergoing a mental breakdown?

Carefully, she placed a warm cup of tea before him. “Here. Drink this. It might help.”

He didn’t seem to hear her any more than he could see her. Seo Yeon waited a few moments before releasing a frustrated sigh.

“I don’t have the time or skills for this,” she muttered.

Though a friend of Eun Mi’s, Seo Yeon had never been the one Eun Mi relied on. In fact, Seo Yeon was one of the few people that knew Song Ma Ri simply as Song Ma Ri. There existed no duplicity when Seo Yeon and Ma Ri met. She never addressed her as Eun Mi. In turn, Ma Ri never acted as girl group leader and member Eun Mi.

Because Ma Ri never exposed her to that side of her life, Seo Yeon had never witnessed her struggles, not really.

She did keep an eye on her, a very casual eye. Which is why she knew of the rumors. But even then, Ma Ri had never told her anything. Never confided in her or given her any information that she might not know from searching the web. Plus, her dislike for Zico had begun back in 2011 when all those crazy fans had nearly driven her insane.

If she were honest, Seo Yeon’s friendship with her had lasted this long only because of Ma Ri. She’d always been nice and polite, making time for her and the rest of their group even when SHINee was not promoting.

Seo Yeon wasn’t that great of a friend. She’d always known it. As she also knew that if Ma Ri had not been flying over the Pacific, she would have probably called her to come and retrieve her moping senior.

In the end, Seo Yeon did the only thing she could think of. She fixed up the sofa with spare sheets, a blanket, and a pillow.

“You can sleep here if you want. I have work in a few hours. I’m going to bed.”

The following morning, Seo Yeon found the tea cup still full and the sofa undisturbed. Zico had let himself out, locking the door and sliding the key back in through the gap.

She didn’t think much of it. With her purse in one hand and her work bag in the other, she made her way to work. She had had quite enough of idols for a while.

Jiho had left Jung Seo Yeon’s apartment soon after she’d retired to her bedroom. Afraid that the stalker might still be around, he’d taken the roundabout way, exiting through the janitor’s office down by the basement. Block B had used that exit several times during their residence; he’d been glad to find it still existed.

He didn’t feel like going to his studio. The stalker could be there.

He didn’t feel like going home. If his mother saw him in this condition, she would be sure to worry. Taewoon’s room would be empty, he knew. No point in going only to confirm that which he already knew.

Jiho ended up driving to one of his favorite churches, St. John’s. This particular parish was larger than St. Cecilia’s, with gardens that surrounded the modern white building. The bell tower was made of glass and white brick. On a sunny day, the inside would be illuminated with the soft, colorful rays that seeped through the diaphanous fabrics that hung from one end of the ceiling to the other. Yellow, blue, red, purple, green; such colors never failed to produce a calming, awed effect on those present.

Jiho loved that. He loved to sit in the pews beneath, staring at the magnificent beauty created by God’s sunlight coupled with the human made drapery. He could not go in now, though. The front doors were locked, and, since St. John’s did not have Adoration available twenty-four hours a day, he could not even enter through the chapel.

Left with no other option, Jiho wandered around to the back gardens. The property was large enough to contain a sizeable maze—the youth groups always had events that included it in some way or another—picnic tables, an outdoor ballroom for weddings and other celebrations, and still have room left over for statues and trees.

The church had been built after the Korean War with the effort and contributions of the community. There were rumors that the Pope had personally blessed the land when he visited back in 2014. Jiho had been unable to attend any of the events planned for the youth. He’d missed out on a lot.

His mother had gone to Mass. Jiho recollected her tell him that Taewoon had accompanied her. Though not as open with his faith as Jiho, Taewoon did have a strong, solid relationship with God. Jiho expressed it on his body, Taewoon in silent privacy.

Jiho wondered if Eun Mi had attended Mass during the papal visit. Knowing her, she had probably snuck out of Seoul just to meet him in Daejeon. He wouldn’t put it past her. She had probably dragged Su Jong along.

He stopped before an astounding replica of Michael Angelo’s Pieta, rubbing his face roughly. He gazed upon a heartbroken, mourning Mary, her divine, sacrificed son in her arms. Jiho could never look at the Pieta for too long. It overwhelmed him, shattered him.

Lowering himself onto the flush grass, he rested his back against the base, his fingers rubbing the rosary beads of his bracelet absentmindedly. It brought him great comfort to sit there in silence and stillness.

Zico’s turmoil continued to explode within him, though it had taken a back row seat now that he sat on holy ground. After a few minutes of stillness, Jiho tackled the mess Zico had made.

He dug around until he found the reason his memory of her had become so warped. With the passage of the years, through the struggled to climb to the top as Block B, and most presently with his desire to be a solid presence in the hip hop world, Zico had acquired a taste for attention, for fame.

He thrived under the careful watch of fans, expanded with the aid of scandals. Zico was a genius, a prodigy. His music killed charts, his bank account showed it. He’d become an idol whose kind had never been seen before. And while all of Block B had managed to carry out the troublemaker image, Zico had embraced it completely.

He had elevated himself over everyone else so much that he’d gone as far as to modify a memory to feed his ego. He despised stalkers, but there, surrounded by the stillness of God, he could not hide the fact that Zico believed the presence of stalkers also spoke of status and likability.

Zico was drunk on fame.

Sitting there, Jiho could not help but wonder if something amazing had been ruined. If Zico was not the way he was, if he had been just a tiny bit humble, just a little bit, perhaps that first meeting would have been different.

Jiho froze the thought before it fully morphed into shape. He allowed his mind to linger on the sound of her voice, swirl around her smile, and drown in her eyes for a few moments before he locked them away forever.

He sat underneath the Pieta until the dawn tinted the sky with pinks and purples and oranges. He bowed his head in prayer. Stillness allowed him to stand.

His car was no longer the only one in the parking lot. Several early birds had arrived for the six o’clock Mass. A handful of those had managed to arrive early enough for Confession. A woman gave him a curious glance as she exited her vehicle. Jiho bowed before climbing into his own.

He watched the parishioners hurry into the church, their eyes awake and aware. Lowering the sun visor, Jiho slid the thin plastic shield away from the mirror, staring at his smooth reflection.

Zico. Jiho. They were one and the same. He had to reconcile both sides somehow.

“Be strong, Zico,” Jiho said. “Be strong. Be humble. Be kind.”

Pulling out of the parking lot, he headed for HQ. Maybe he could get a few hours of sleep before his first schedule.