NOTE. I'm sorry if you read the chapter before this update, I forgot to add the last part lol, also I'm sorry about Jisoo's fake identity i just didn't know what to put there, so if you have any suggestion I'll gladly add it. 

...........................................

JISOO 

 

The day had dragged interminably. The minutes had frozen into hours.

She’d come back to Central Park on a whim, wishing only to escape the suffocating walls of the hotel room, wanting only to partake in something other than her own life. It was enough to sit there; concealed as she was beneath a wig and large sunglasses, and watch other lives go by in streams of fragmented conversations. It was enough just to simply blend in.

“Hey, aren’t you that chick from TV?”

 

Jisoo looked over to find Jackson walking toward her. “How did you find me?”

“Rosé inserted that nifty tracking device into your skull, didn’t you know? How else could she keep up with you?” Jackson looked around. “Nice day.”

 

“Yeah,” and Jisoo nodded. “How’d you really find me?”

“First of all, it’s rather presumptuous of you to assume I was looking for you. I happened to be jogging, minding my own business, when the sight of a young woman in a hideous wig startled me. Upon closer investigation I discovered that the woman was none other than my best friend.” He sat down beside her and smiled. “So there.”

“So you’re saying that you just happened to be here?”

“Yup.”

“And that you weren’t tipped at all by say ... the hotel manager I spoke to on my way out?”

“Nope.”

“You’re sure?”

“Couldn’t be surer.”

“Right.”

“Okay,” Jackson said shrugging. “I may have heard something about you going to Central Park. I just thought it was an excellent idea.”

“Mmm, it was.” Jackson merely nodded, and Jisoo turned her attention away. They fell into amicable silence. “I was thinking,” Jisoo said, her voice soft against the stillness between them, “that I might want to move here. Maybe after the show’s over.”

When Jackson didn’t say anything, Jisoo turned to look at him, only to find that his attention was fixed on a blonde woman several feet away.

 

“Or maybe just have with some elephants from outer space,” Jisoo added casually.

“What?” Jisoo turned to her in a second. “What ?” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Sorry. I was just ... um...”

"Checking out the local white meat?" Jisoo guessed.

"It's what's for dinner.”

 

Behind her sunglasses, Jisoo rolled her eyes. "Gross."

"There's nothing gross about the union of a man and a woman," Jackson replied. "Or even a man and two women. Or three..."

Jisoo laughed. "You can barely handle yourself, what are you going do with three women?"

“Hey!” Jackson frowned. “I’ll have you know I can handle myself just fine. Why—“ 

“T.M.I!” Jisoo interrupted quickly. “Really.”

“You started it.”

“So what do you think?”

 “About?”

“About what I said earlier?” 

Jackson ran his hand up and down the peach fuzz hair at the back of his head and looked thoughtful. “I think if you’re going to have a , then you could do better than elephants. I mean, you’re not a bad looking girl, and elephants, well, they smell...”

 

Jisoo wanted to strangle him sometimes. “About me moving to New York after the show.” “And leave L.A.?” He frowned. “But I thought you loved it there?”

“It was just a thought.” She shrugged it away as if it wasn’t important. After a moment, she sighed. “Should we head back?”

“I guess.” Jackson yawned and stood up. “Should we call Rosé? Maybe she’d like a ride back to the hotel.”

“I’m sure she’s having a blast all on her own,” Jisoo answered, somewhat distracted by the tables of artwork along the way. She glanced at him briefly and smiled. “Unless you miss her...”

“Will you quit it with that? I do not have feelings for Rosé.”

“Mmhmm.” She would have argued further, but then she saw it: a charcoal sketch drawn on simple canvas paper. She halted in her steps and stared at it for a long moment, unsure why she’d even stopped, unsure why she couldn’t just keep walking.

“Uh, you okay?”

She walked a few feet, and finally turned to Jackson and said, “Could you get that picture for me?”

Jackson glanced back at the item in question. “What am I, your slave?”

“Jackson,” Jisoo said, her voice edging toward annoyance. “I know Clark Kent could pull it off with a simple pair of glasses, but I don’t wanna push it.”

“Fine, fine.”

 

Jisoo watched him from several feet away. She rolled her eyes again at the sight of him flirting with the redhead behind the table. It took him far longer than necessary to get the picture and walk over to her, but once he did, she was too pleased with the purchase to mind.

“Here’s your picture, your highness.”

“Hitting on the artist were you?” Jisoo asked, distracted at once by the picture he’d handed her. She stared at it and smiled. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, beautiful,” he said flatly, and they resumed their walk. “Actually, that wasn’t the artist. That was the artist’s friend. The artist’s very cute friend who just gave me her number. Although, admittedly, she did make me work for it.” He held up a business card for emphasis and flipped it over to the other side to illustrate a phone number written in green ink.

“Very impressive.”

Jackson pocketed the card and smiled smugly. “One day you too could be this smooth.”

Jisoo didn’t glance at him as they walked. “I’m not sure smoothness is the problem,” and a trace of bitterness seeped through the words before she could help herself. She looked around, eyes narrowed. “Where the hell is my driver? I told him to wait.”

"Jisoo, you know I'm just teasing, right?" Jackson asked, suddenly serious. "I know it's tough for you."

She didn’t answer, stared down at the drawing in her hand instead and sighed. “You’re not going to find anyone to love if you don’t let anyone get close to you.” 

“I let you get close to me.”

“Yes, but much to my dismay, I don’t seem to be your type.”

“And therein lies the rub.”

 

~*~

 

SEULGI 

 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Seulgi anxiously said before Joy could open . “It’s all Shakespeare’s fault. But look, I brought you fine New York cuisine.” She handed over the two hotdogs she’d bought from a street vendor.

“How touching.” Joy accepted Seulgi’s offerings and placed them down on the wooden foldout table. She was, in fact, starving. For hours she’d sat behind the carefully arranged pieces of Seulgi’s artwork, inhaling car exhaust and stupidity. For hours she’d listened to the sounds of beeping horns and angry, frustrated souls battling it out in the war zone of New York City traffic. She’d listened to a thousand out-of-context conversations, answered hundreds of questions – most of them having nothing to do with the art on display – and pointed dozens of people in the wrong direction. She was exhausted. “But Shakespeare’s been dead too long to be your scapegoat, and I think I deserve better than hotdogs.”

Seulgi considered Joy’s comment carefully before responding. “Fine, I’ll just double what I currently pay you.”

Seulgi gasped in mock surprise. “Double? Oh, no, Seulgi, that’s too much. I mean, that would be like, hmm, let’s see, two times zero equals – hold on, this is tough math – oh yes, zero. No, really, that’s too generous. Just give me fifty percent.”

“I’ll also throw in ual favors from Sehun.”

“Okay, that’s just gross. I’d rather sleep with this hotdog. Sauerkraut and all.”

“And if I hadn’t been a vegetarian before, that totally unnecessary visual right there would’ve tipped me right over the edge.”

 

Joy shrugged; too busy chewing to comment right away. “Mmm. There’s really nothing better than phallic-shaped mystery meat cooked and served by hairy men beneath two- toned beach umbrellas.”

“Um, okay. I believe ‘anyway’ is in order. How’d we do today?”

“Rough day, but I did sell your baby.” 

“What baby?”

Joy wiped at with a napkin before responding. “Your charcoal sketch, a.k.a. the love of your life. I sold it to the hottest guy ever. Even gave him my number.” She wiggled her eyebrows and took another bite.

“I wasn’t even sure I wanted to sell that one,” Seulgi said, visibly disappointed. “But, I guess if he liked it enough to buy it.”

“Mmhmm,” Joy agreed between mouthfuls. “I even doubled your asking price.” 

“What? Why?”

Joy shrugged. “Well, he asked for my number, and I asked how badly he wanted it. And he said, ‘How badly do you want me to want it?’ and I said, ‘Badly enough to pay double for this sketch.’”

“And?”

“He didn’t even bat an eye. I should’ve tripled it.”

Seulgi laughed. “Only you can manage to do business and get a date at the same time. I really should start paying you for this.”

“When you can afford to pay me, I’ll gladly accept a salary from you. In the meantime, here.” Joy held up an envelope and stood up. “Today’s winnings. Don’t spend it all in one place.”

“Off to work?”

“There’s no rest for the wicked. Is that how the saying goes?”

“What saying?”

“About the wicked?”

“The musical?”

“Never mind.” Joy gathered her belongings. “I’ll see you tonight. Good luck.” 

“Thanks.”

Seulgi watched Joy until she disappeared in the crowd. Then she sat and looked around. Trying to sell her art was like getting slapped in the face repeatedly by unapologetic, uncaring hands. At the end of the day, or at least, at the end of most days, Seulgi couldn’t decide what hurt most: having her work blatantly ignored, or having it completely disregarded after closer inspection. And still, she came back, time after time, because sometimes, she got lucky. Sometimes, someone cared.

Her cell phone went off, the personalized ring tone disclosing the caller’s identity instantly. She struggled with the button on her cargo shorts, before managing to flip the device open and put it to her ear. “Hi,” she greeted her mother.

“Where are you, it’s so nosy?”

“Oh, I’m at the park,” Seulgi answered. “Want me to call you back later?”

“No. I just wanted to tell you to come for dinner tomorrow. Chanyeol said he wants to tell us something important.”

“What does he want to tell us?”

“If i knew, don’t you think I’d tell you?” 

“Haha. Okay, I’ll be there tomorrow, what time?” 

“Six-thirty. And Chanyeol said to bring Joy.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, I’m going. I love you, don’t forget.”

“I love you, too. See you tomorrow.” When her mother hung up, Seulgi sat back in the chair and stared at the phone in slight confusion. What would her stepbrother have to tell them?

“Could you tell me where the Guggenheim is from here?”

Seulgi looked up and inwardly sighed before saying, “Yeah, just cross the street and walk straight down. It’ll be on your right.”

“Thanks.”

Maybe I should start painting maps instead. She rolled her eyes and settled back against the chair. It was going to be a long day.

 

~.~

 

JISOO

 

Jisoo sat on the pale cream carpet, her back against the edge of the bed, her features bathed in the traces of a setting sun. The conversation with Jackson had unsettled her. You’re never going to find someone to love, he’d said, as if things were so simple. As if she could go up to someone and say, “Hey, want to go on a date sometime?” and live happily ever after.

If only she could love Jackson.

If only she weren’t in the public eye.

If only...

 

She sighed and let her head fall back against the mattress. The painting she’d purchased earlier sat beside her, staring back at her expectantly whenever she glanced in its direction.

She still didn’t know why she hadn’t packed it along with everything else, or why she kept staring at it. It wasn’t like her to be drawn to art, never having been one to spend time at galleries or museums. But there was something about the picture, about the loneliness it radiated, that called to Jisoo in a way she couldn’t explain. It made her feel less alone, sitting there in the silent room, watching as another pointless day faded into memory.

 

 

~*~

 

SEULGI

 

“I love you,” he said, turning to look at her from his place on the bed.

But Seulgi kept her gaze on the computer monitor, her Shakespeare paper a blank canvas on the screen. Do you? she wanted to ask, because she’d heard him, and because despite herself, she really wanted to know. “I love you, too,” she answered when the time for truth had passed and all that remained was the sense of expectation.

“Do you want to do something later?”

“I’m trying to write a paper,” she answered, looking at him, daring him to start a fight.

“After that.”

“I’m not sure there will be an ‘after’ this. I think it’s going to take all night.”

“How long can that possibly take?”

“Yeah, well I’m not good at papers,” she replied, an edge in her voice. “We’re not all geniuses in this room, remember?”

Sehun sighed in thinly veiled exasperation. “Okay, look, I’ll just shut up and leave you to your homework.” He rolled off the bed and stood by the side of it for a moment, gazing down at Seulgi thoughtfully. “Dinner tomorrow?”

“Can’t, family stuff.”

“What family stuff?”

“Chanyeol wants to talk to us about something.”

“About what?”

“I can safely say that I have no idea.”

“Oh.”

Seulgi bit her lip and looked up at him. “I’m sorry, I’d invite you—

“No, it’s okay. I guess I’m just not as part of the family as I thought.”

“Sehun—

“Sorry,” he said. “If it’s a family thing, then it’s a family thing.”

Seulgi bit her lip, opting to leave out the fact that Joy had been asked to come along. “It’s more of a Chanyeol thing.”

“And he hates me, right?”

Seulgi frowned up at her boyfriend. “He doesn’t hate you. He just doesn’t know you very well.”

“Yeah, well he doesn’t seem particularly keen on remedying that situation.”

Sehun looked visibly upset, and Seulgi didn’t know what to say to make him feel better. It was true that her stepbrother hadn’t taken to Sehun; unlike the rest of her family, who practically worshipped him. She simply had no explanation as to why. “It’s just one evening. I’ll go, hear what Chanyeol has to say, and then maybe we can get together when I get back.”

 

Sehun nodded after a moment of reflection. “I’ll just wait for you here. Joy’s off tomorrow, right?”

Crap. Seulgi looked away, focused her gaze on the computer monitor and the awaiting paper, which seemed, at that moment, the lesser of all evils. “Um, actually, she’s coming with me.”

Sehun’s silence unsettled her, and Seulgi forced herself to look at him. “Why?” he asked. “Chanyeol wants her there.”

Sehun nodded. “I see.”

“They’ve known each other forever, Sehun. It makes sense—

“Save it, Seulgi. Just... call me whenever.” The slamming door punctuated his statement. “Great,” Seulgi muttered, shifting to adjust the weight of the laptop on her lap. “Just great.”

 

~*~

 

JISOO

 

The hotel restaurant was as upscale as it was noisy. The mutter of conversation threatened to drown even the distinct sounds of clattering silverware, as the VIPs in the room chattered on in dull, monotonous voices. Jisoo stifled a yawn, and stirred her drink. “This place is lame.”

“I know,” Jackson agreed, drawing his glass of beer toward his lips and taking a sip.

“Oh I don’t know,” Rosé piped in, “I kind of like it.”

“That’s because you’re lame,” Jackson replied, and Jisoo laughed softly. “We should’ve gone somewhere else for dinner. It’s our last night in New York.”

“Until next time,” Jisoo answered. “Provided you’re still unemployed and bored.”

Jackson frowned and leaned his elbows on the table. “I’m not unemployed. I’m between projects.”

“Well, if you need a quick paycheck, I’m sure I can find you something,” Jisoo replied.

“No, thank you.” Jackson reached for his beer again. “I want nothing to do with your seedy Hollywood money.”

“Oh, good, then I guess you’re paying for dinner.” Jisoo picked up the menu. “Mmm, good thing I’m starving.”

Jackson smiled. “I’m here merely as a favor to you, Smarty Pants, and you know it.”

“And I appreciate it.” Jisoo turned serious for a moment. “I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes.”

“Oh, gag,” Rosé said. “It’s no wonder people keep asking me when you two are tying the knot. You’re nauseating.”

“I love you so much Jackson.”

“And I love you, Jisoo. My heart beats–“

“I beg you to stop. For the sake of my appetite.”

 

Jisoo smiled to herself. “So, Jackson, are you going to call her?”

“And the cryptic use of pronouns was lost on him,” Jackson said, by way of an answer.

Rosé leaned forward. “Call who?”

“Jackson got a girl’s number today,” Jisoo revealed. She so enjoyed watching Jackson squirm. “He seems to have a thing for redheads.”

Jackson’s eyes widened in horror, and he glanced nervously at Rosé, who tucked a strand of reddish hair behind her ear.

I’m so going to pay for that, Jisoo mused, but she didn’t care. It was entirely too entertaining. “So,” she said, casually, “are you going to call her?”

“I wasn’t planning to,” he said, while his eyes tossed daggers in her direction.

Jisoo shook her head. “I’ll never understand you. Why bother getting her number if you have no intention of calling it?”

“What’s the point of calling her when I’m leaving tomorrow?”

“To say, ‘Hey, I’m just calling so you don’t think I’m an .’”

“Oh yeah, that’s charming.” Jackson shook his head.

Jisoo shrugged. “I’m just saying if it were me, I’d want you to call. Rosé, wouldn’t you want him to call?”

“Um...”

“See, she’d want you to call.”

Jackson rolled his eyes and reached into his back pocket. A second later, he produced the card with the number in question. He placed it in front of Jisoo. “If you care so much, you call her.”

“Now that I’d like to see,” Rosé stated.

 

Jisoo glanced at the card, then up at Jackson and Rosé. They were both watching her expectantly.

After a moment of consideration, she reached for her cell phone. 

 

 

~*~

 

SEULGI

 

“... and then he slammed the door,” Seulgi concluded. She the ice cream off the spoon and shook her head. “He’s so infuriating sometimes.”

Joy nodded, reaching across the table to dip her own spoon into the tub of Cherry Garcia. “Well, I, for one, am glad he’s not going with us tomorrow. There’s only so much of Sehun I can take before wanting to poke my eyes out with a rusty fork.”

“That paints a lovely image, thanks.” 

“Speaking of painting--”

“No, I didn’t,” Seulgi answered before the full question was finished. “I haven’t painted a thing in two weeks.”

“I maintain it’s ual frustration.”

“Noted.”

“So, how’s the paper coming? Did you finish it?”

“I’m sitting here eating ice cream and whining about my boyfriend. Of course I haven’t finished. I got as far as--” The telephone interrupted the rest of her statement. “Ugh, I’ll get it. I’m sure it’s Sehun, calling to yell some more.” She reached for the receiver, while simultaneously ice cream from the side of and standing. If she was going to get into another fight, she needed space to move around. “If you’re calling to continue the fight, Sehun, don’t bother,” she began, and Joy instantly gave her the thumbs up.

 

“And before you say anything,” she continued, spurred on by Joy’s support, “I think it’s really ty of you to get mad at me because my stepbrother chose not to include you in his personal affairs. Sometimes, you really are a spoiled little brat, you know? And I’m getting tired of being your little lapdog. I’m sorry, if Chanyeol isn’t as in love with you as the rest of my family is, but I can’t do anything about it. And if you think I’m just going to sit here and feel guilty because my family doesn’t include you in every little event, then you’re sadly mistaken. So, the next words out of your mouth better be, ‘I’m sorry.’”

Silence greeted her, save for a lot of background noise. “Sehun?” Seulgi pressed.

“Uh, I’m sorry,” said the female voice. “Wrong number.” Seulgi lowered the receiver from her ear and closed her eyes. “What’s wrong?” Joy asked. “Seulgi?”

“It, uh, wasn’t Sehun,” she answered after a second. Joy dissolved into uncontrollable laughter.

 

~*~

 

JISOO

 

Jisoo placed the cell phone back on the table and regarded her companions. “Sorry, Jackson, looks like she’s already cheating on you.”

“But you didn’t say anything,” Rosé stated.

“Believe me, I didn’t have to.” Jisoo smiled. “Think she was expecting someone else. A male someone.”

Jackson crossed his arms. “Guess she moves on fast. And here I thought I was the player.” 

“All the world’s a stage...” Jisoo replied.

 

 

~*~

 

 

SEULGI

 

“God I hate Shakespeare.”

“That came out of left field,” Joy replied, as the raggedy old elevator came to a stop on the 12th floor.

As they stepped out into the shabby hallway that led to Seulgi’s mom’s apartment, Seulgi let out a frustrated groan. “Sorry, it’s that damn paper. I was up all night, and I still didn’t finish. I at writing.”

“Look at the bright side, I sold two of your photographs and one of your sketches today.”

Seulgi brightened at the news. “Yeah?” She knocked on the door marked 122C. “When were you planning on telling me that?”

Joy shrugged. “Was gonna wait ‘til the next time you got mad at me... but I figured this was a good a time as any.”

Before Seulgi had a chance to reply, the door opened and she was swept into hug. Her stepbrother, Chanyeol, kissed her cheek several times before letting go. "The ugly is here!" he announced.

He received a slap on the arm. “Oh, you’re one to talk, Mr. Ugly,” Seulgi countered jokingly. Chanyeol was anything but ugly, and she was sure he knew it. It had been a few months since she’d last seen him, and as he turned to hug Joy, Seulgi took the opportunity to observe how well he was looking. His dark hair was slightly longer than when she’d last seen him. He looked taller and fitter than she remembered. “Have you been working out?”

Chanyeol winked at her. “Joined a gym.” He flexed his arm as evidence.

 

Seulgi glanced quickly at Joy who was making a show of fanning herself. She laughed.

Kang Dara stepped into view a second later. She dried her hands on her skirt as she walked toward them. “Daughter” she greeted Seulgi with a kiss on the cheek, and then turned to greet Joy. When she stepped away from the girls, she said, “Seunhyun and Hyunsyk went to the store for some groceries. They’ll be back soon.” She ushered them toward the living room. “Come, sit. I bring you something to drink.”

 

Seulgi sat down as instructed and gazed around the apartment. It was small by anybody's standards. The living room barely fit the couch she was sitting on; but it was home. Paintings and framed pictures of South Korea decorated the walls, along with masks of vejigantes, from Seunghyun's native town. Seulgi had never been there, but Seunghyun and Chanyeol spoke of it all the time. They'd moved to New York shortly before Seunghyun and Seulgi's mother had met.

 

“So how’s the art world these days?”

Seulgi glanced up into Chanyeol’s curious brown eyes and shrugged. She didn’t want to say that she’d reached the end of a creative road. “Good,” she said instead and tried to convince herself that it wasn’t a lie. It was almost too easy to forget that she hadn’t done anything in weeks.

“I sold some of her stuff today while she was at class,” Joy boasted proudly. “And tons of people stopped to look and compliment the artwork.”

“There is no money in art,” Dara announced, returning from the kitchen with a tray of orange juice. “But no one ever listens to their mother.”

Seulgi smiled, accepting a glass. “I listen to you.”

 

“You listen to me?” and her mother rolled her eyes. She placed the tray down and sat down on the couch beside Chanyeol. “How many times have I told you to wear something nicer? I don’t know how Sehun puts up with you looking like that all of the time.”

Seulgi glanced down at her paint-stained jeans and baggy sweatshirt. “What’s wrong with this?”

Dara replied with a look that obviously meant the question did not dignify a response. “I’m just glad you’ll have Sehun to take care of you, is all I’m going to say. Lord knows that boy is going places.”

 

Chanyeol cleared his throat. "Well, I'm pretty certain Seulgi is capable of taking care of herself," he said.

"Well of course she is," Dara agreed in a somewhat defensive tone. "But every woman needs a man to take care of her in this world. And vice versa."

Chanyeol dropped his gaze and took a sip of his drink without further comment.

Though she was used to the one-on-one debates between her mother and stepbrother, Seulgi couldn’t help but wonder if they realized she was sitting there. It was strange to feel like an abstract concept, molded this way and that by the gravitational pull of opposing ideas.

Perhaps she would’ve said something then, voiced thoughts that only presented themselves in the quiet moments between words. Perhaps she would have, if the door hadn’t opened then.

Kang Seunghyun entered the small apartment with a bag of ice over his shoulder and grocery bags in his hands. An older, shorter version of Chanyeol, Seunghyun shared his son’s dark hair and eyes, but lacked his son’s easy-going personality. Seulgi respected her stepfather, loved him as a Dad, but she struggled to understand his mindset at times.

Hyunsuk entered behind his stepfather, carrying several bags of groceries in one hand. Though he seemed taller every time Seulgi saw him, puberty hadn’t yet fixed his lanky form and somewhat awkward demeanor.

 

Chanyeol rose at once to help, and Seunghyun passed on the items to his son before greeting his stepdaughter.

“Pretty” he called her, and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

Seulgi smiled.

“Hello, Joy,” he said, kissing her cheek as well. “How’s the coffee-selling business?”

“It’s quite the marvel, Mr. K,” Joy answered, brightening at the mention of coffee. “It takes special skill to brew the stuff just right.”

“You must be very proud,” Seunghyun said, in a tone that managed not to sound sarcastic. He greeted his wife with a peck on the lips and sat beside her. “Are you girls staying for dinner?”

Seulgi shook her head. “I have a lot of homework, actually.” “I don’t,” Joy said, pouting. “I love your mom’s cooking.” Dara beamed proudly. “I made cakes.”

“Beef or rice?” Seulgi asked flatly.

“Beef,” Dara answered at once, “That’s what Hyunsuk and your father like.” Seulgi managed to stifle a sigh. “But I don’t eat meat, mom.”

“Ay,” Dara cried in a disgusted tone. “This vegetarian nonsense has got to stop. What is this no meat thing? Are you rebelling against something?”

“Cruelty to animals, I’d imagine,” Chanyeol interjected, reappearing from the kitchen with Hyunsuk in tow.

 

Thankful for the interruption, Seulgi glanced at Hyunsuk. “Hey, Notorious Dork. What’s with the wannabe ghetto clothes?”

He gave her a dirty look in reply and adjusted the black bandana around his dark brown hair. “So what’s all this big announcement stuff?” He pulled up a chair and plopped down on it, slouching down and looking bored.

Everyone looked expectantly at Chanyeol, as if remembering for the first time that he was the reason for the family reunion.

Chanyeol reclaimed his seat and stared at everyone in turn. His mood turned suddenly dark and he swallowed. “Um...”

“Did you get some chick pregnant?” Hyunsuk guessed. “No...” Chanyeol stared down at his hands.

Seulgi stared at her stepbrother in concern. She’d never seen Chanyeol look so sullen. Worry and dread rose to the forefront of her emotions and she struggled to imagine what Chanyeol could possibly have to say. “Are you moving?” It wasn’t the worst thing she could imagine, but it was up there.

But Chanyeol just shook his head.

It was Joy’s turn to guess: “Joining the army?” “Getting married?”

 

“I’m gay,” Chanyeol said, glancing up.

The room fell deathly silent, as everyone absorbed the information. The cup fell from Dara’s hand, spilling the remainder of her juice across the ivory carpet. And like a flag marking the start of a race, there was an eruption of shouting.

 

Seulgi sank down in the couch, not yet able to muster a response, while all around her, her family spiraled out of control.

Hyunsuk stormed out of the apartment, shouting, “!” on his way down the hall.

Seunghyun was on his feet, his voice lost in a sea of words that Seulgi could not distill.

Chanyeol rose, towering over his father, his jaw clenched.

Seulgi glanced at her mother in alarm, hoping she’d step between them and stop things before they got out of control. But her mother was out of control herself, lost to sobs and whispered prayer.

 

“Chanyeol,” Seulgi said in a voice that was not her own.

And her stepbrother glanced at her quickly, his eyes searching hers for... something. Seulgi didn’t know how to help him at that moment, didn’t know how to make things better.

As Seunghyun rambled on about morality, Chanyeol seemed to understand what she was trying to say, even if Seulgi herself didn’t. He glanced back at his father, eyes filled with anger and pain, and then he quickly walked out of the apartment.

 

"Damn it!" Seunghyun cursed. Without a glance in anyone’s direction, he disappeared down the hallway. A second later, a door slammed closed.

Dara smoothed the length of her skirt as she stood from the couch. She wiped at her tears and excused herself before following after her husband.

Seulgi stared at the empty living room with a detached sense of confusion. What had just happened to her family?

“Well,” Joy said, and Seulgi had almost forgotten she was there, “that went well.”

~.~

 

JISOO

“Definitely not straight,” Jisoo decided. “What do you think?”

Rosé, who stood beside her, cocked her head to the side and contemplated the question for a long while. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Seriously?” Jisoo looked again at the framed picture hanging over her bed. “It looks a little crooked to me.”

“Well, which way do you want me to shift it?”

“Left. No, right. No.” Jisoo bit her lip and stepped closer. “Maybe it is straight.”

“Does that mean we can stop obsessing over this now?” Rosé reached for her bag. “Not that it’s not beautiful or anything, because it is, but I’ve been dragging the damn thing to every frame shop in Los Angeles ever since we got back, and honestly, I think the first frame was perfectly fine. So were the next twelve. And the only thing that’s not straight in this room is your answer about the TV Guide cover. So which is it: are you in, are you out? The people need to know.”

Jisoo sighed, but nodded. “I’m in.”

“Okay, but that means you’ll have to reschedule your dinner with...” Rosé paused as she flipped through several pages of notes. “Andrea Jeffies.”

Jisoo headed for the door, assistant firmly in tow. Halfway down the stairs, she paused. “Who the hell is Andrea Jeffies?”

“She’s a director,” Rosé prompted. “She wanted to talk to you about a role in her film.” Pause. “Jisoo, you spoke to her yesterday. You told me to schedule her in.”

Jisoo vaguely recalled such a conversation. She pondered the name as she continued her descent. “Right,” she said, finally remembering. She stopped at the foot of the stairs and

looked up at Rosé. “Call her back, cancel, don’t reschedule.”

“Um, okay...?”

“I finished the script last night.” Jisoo made a face to illustrate disgust.

“That bad?”

“Let me put it this way: Yes.” She continued onward, toward the living room. “It started out fine. I thought, ‘Hey, this could be a pretty decent role,’ and then the aliens come to Earth to procreate with the human race, and my character gets eaten by a weird plant/monkey hybrid.”

“Say no more. Dinner cancelled.”

Jisoo sighed and plopped down onto her plush leather sofa. “Why can’t I just land something... challenging, you know?”

“Well, if challenging is what you’re looking for, here’s something: your mom called to remind you about your sister’s play in two weeks. If you can’t make that, you absolutely, have to make it to the after-dinner at eight, or – and I quote – ‘your sister will never ever speak to you ever again.’”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

Rosé smiled and sat down beside the actress. “You should at least make the dinner. You shouldn’t piss your mother off too much, because then I have to deal with her, and we both know I hate her. No offense.”

“None taken. Maybe I’ll drag Jackson along. They always act at least halfway human when he’s around. Act being the operative word.” Jisoo caught the strange look that passed across Rosé ’s face and she arched a brow. 

“What?”

“What?” Rosé was looking at her pen. “Nothing.” She coughed. “You should call Jackson. He might be free. I mean, not that I think he would not be free – cause how would I know? I just mean, uh... oh, , I’m late for yoga.” She stood, and started toward the front door. “Call me if you need anything else. The, uh ... the frame looks great.” Door opened. Door closed.

 

Jisoo sat frozen in place for about two minutes before finally reaching for her phone. Jackson picked up on the second ring. “Hey, it’s me,” she said.

“I know it’s you. What’s – oh wait, got another call. Hold on.”

Jisoo waited patiently, and then impatiently. She was about to hang up and call back when he switched over.

“Um, Jisoo, can I call you back?”

Jisoo frowned. “Sure...” She heard the click, and was once about to hang up when Jackson’s voice came back in a big rush.

“Do you think she knows? I mean, what did you say? Was it obvious? Do you think that’s why she’s calling? Crap. I knew we should’ve told her. She’s going to freak out. What exactly did you say?”

Jisoo scratched her forehead, trying to piece together the pieces of this suddenly intriguing puzzle.

“Rosé?” Jackson prompted. “Are you still there?”

Rosé and Jackson. Jackson and Rosé. Jisoo narrowed her eyes. The sneaky bastards! How long had this been going on? She started laughing. “Oh you two are so busted.”

“J-Jisoo?” 

“So busted.”

“Uh...”

“When did this happen?”

“It’s not what you think,” Jackson said quickly. “It’s not like we’re ... you know, dating or anything.” He said the word “dating” as if it were a disease. “It was just . Once. Okay, twice. The third time doesn’t really count.”

“Ah-huh.”

“And we were going to see a movie tomorrow night, but that’s it.”

“Mmhmm.”

“We were going to tell you. It’s just... it just sort of happened, and we weren’t really sure what to tell you, since you know, it’s nothing.”

“Nothing,” Jisoo repeated, amused. “Of course.”

Jackson let out a deep breath. “Are you mad?”

“Yup, totally pissed,” Jisoo answered, smiling. “So, when did this ‘nothing’ start?” 

“New York. The last night we were there. We both had too much to drink and...” 

“And then the nothing happened?”

“Right.”

 

“I knew you liked her,” Jisoo said. “I just had no idea she liked you back.” 

“Neither did I,” Jackson admitted. “You know, cause of the gay thing.”

Jisoo frowned. “What gay thing?”

“Rosé’s.”

“Rosé has a gay thing?”

“Well, yeah. I thought you knew? I mean she was like in love with y– I’m saying too much. I am. I need to shut up before she kills me. No gay thing. There are no gay things, except mine. I am very, very gay.”

“Jackson, what the hell are you talking about? Rosé’s not gay.”

“That’s right.” He paused. “She’s bi. But if you tell her I told you, I swear to God, I will... I will... well I will be really pissed at you for a very long time.”

Jisoo rubbed her temple with her free hand. This was way too much information to process in one phone conversation. “Okay. Look, I really don’t care that you and Rosé are dat—“

“We’re not dating!”

“Fine, that you and Rosé are nothing-ing or whatever, but please, please, don’t break her heart and make her hate you because I really, really need her to remain my assistant.”

“Spoken like a true romantic.”

“Jackson, I’m serious.”

“As am I. Are you sure you don’t want me to set you up on a date? I know someone. Very discreet.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Just don’t tell her about the g...”

 

Jackson’s voice faded as Jisoo took the phone off her ear. A second later, she shut it off. She stared at the device in her hand, not really looking at it. Jackson and Rosé. And Rosé was bi. Why hadn’t Rosé told her that? Not that they were best friends or anything, but still. Then again, it wasn’t like Jisoo had been particularly forthcoming with any personal details of her own. She looked blindly at the receiver for a second longer, and then put it back on its base. She stood once that task was finished and made her way back to her bedroom.

It’s not straight, Jisoo thought, glancing up at the picture as she crawled into bed. “But then, that’s probably appropriate,” she said, to no one and nothing in particular. She sighed and reached for the book on her nightstand. The card fell onto the bedspread from somewhere between the pages, and Jisoo stared down at the white, rectangular shape resting against her navy blue covers. The name Kang Seulgi stared up at her in black, bold letters. Beneath the name: an email address.

 

She hesitated briefly, putting the book back on the nightstand. She picked the business card up, and held it in front of her. She didn’t know why she’d kept the card, but she knew it had something to do with the fact that the artist’s name was on one side of it. Minutes passed as Jisoo contemplated the ridiculous notion of emailing a perfect stranger. Why shouldn’t she? Surely an artist would want to be complimented on their work? She glanced at the computer on her desk and back at the card. What would she even say?

Moments later, propelled forward by unidentifiable means, she sat at her desk and hit a random key, bringing her laptop to life. A picture of a sunset stared back at her, and she moved the cursor on her screen until her browser opened. She couldn’t email this person as herself, could she? No, she decided, signing up for a new email account. She filled the name as Sooya Kim, opting for her favorite nickname, and her last name, it was pretty common even in America anyway.

 

Registration completed, compose email screen opened, she typed the email address written on the card, wrote ‘Your Art’ into the subject line, and sat back.

After a minute, she began to type:

Ms.Kang,

I’m not sure if you’re used to receiving emails from strangers or not, but I couldn’t keep myself from writing to say that I really love the art piece I purchased from you last week. I’m not much of an art critic, and don’t pretend to know much about it. However, when I saw your sketch, it took my breath away. And since few things in life have such an effect on me, I figured the least I could do was let you know.

I don’t reside in New York, but if I ever find myself there again, I wondered: do you have your work on display at a gallery? Or should I simply take my chances at Central Park again?

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely, Sooya Kim

 

Jisoo read over her words, feeling like a monumental fool. The cursor hovered over the ‘send’ button, while her mind registered a thousand different reasons why this was a bad idea; something she was certain to regret twenty minutes after the fact; something that would haunt her into the wee hours of the morning while she tossed and turned in bed, thinking, Whyyyyyy did I send that?

And yet, she clicked anyway. Email sent.