Chapter 12

Yena had no idea how long she had been waiting at the side of the cafe. It was getting cold, and the streets were completely empty. She contemplated going back inside—Junmyeon was still dealing with the police, though she had no idea what they were doing anymore—but before she could think more of it, a sleek black car pulled up at the side. A second later, the window at the passenger side had rolled down and she could see Jongdae peeking from the driver’s seat, eyes flickering around the scene, to her and then to behind her, where the cafe was still bustling with officers as Junmyeon dealt with them.

There was a very, very long pause and heavy silence before Jongdae offered a slight smile. It looked kind of forced, but she still had to admit that he had a very nice smile. “Hey,” he said. “Get inside?”

It was a much better option than standing out in the open, and without wasting another second, Yena pulled open the car door and scrambled inside next to Jongdae. It might’ve been awkward in any other situation (and she could almost hear Kyungsoo screaming at her (“What the hell are you doing, getting into an obvious stalker’s car”)), though it wasn’t any other situation and the only thing she could think of was that it felt safer behind the tinted videos and Jongdae with a firm grip on the wheel. Even if she didn’t know him well. Even if there were too many coincidences surrounding him to even be coincidences; even through all of that.

It was a very nice car, and that was her first thought when she looked around. Then again, everything she’d seen of Jongdae had been… classy and elegant, so it really was expected. She couldn’t place a finger on what he even did—he couldn’t have been any older than twenty five, really—but he either came from a rich family or somehow had gotten very successful at a young age. He didn’t hit her as the kind of person who spent his parents’ money without working for it himself, but there wasn’t anything else she could think of to explain Jongdae. Then again, Yena told herself, she didn’t know much about him, and he seemed the quiet and independent type, so there really was no knowing. Maybe he had gotten successful at a young age.

Jongdae started the car again, quiet. A little while later they were going down the street again, and it was then that he turned to her. “Which district do you live in?” he asked. “I’m going into the city because the apartment Jongin is at is there, and it’s in that direction, right?”

Still slightly shell shocked (both from what had happened before and from Jongdae’s car, really), she nodded. “I think it’s around ten minutes from the address you sent me,” she told him. “I mean, I can walk back if you go straight to that apartment—”

“It’s fine,” he cut in, then pointed at the phone that was resting in one of the cupholders. “Unlock that, go to maps and then enter your address. I’ll just use the GPS.”

It felt slightly better doing something… mundane. Whatever it was, she concentrated on putting in her address on the map, and soon, the automated voice was telling him to take a right at the next street. Jongdae did so in silence.

They were at least five minutes in the drive when he spoke again. “What happened?” he asked as the car slid to a halt at the traffic light. “I could see police sirens from my apartment, but that’s all I know.”

She took a sip of water from her water bottle, considering the question. What happened seemed a little too broad, because she wasn’t too sure what had happened, and what seemed more evident was what could have happened and what didn’t happen. Those two were painted clearly and Yena could very well answer them; what happened wasn’t as valid of a question. Still, she did the best she could to recount the whole situation to Jongdae, starting from the man who had come in and asked to use the washroom to the police and everything they had told them. From him walking in claiming to need to restroom to Minseok letting him to Junmyeon telling them to go to the storage room and breaking the news that there was a unidentified shooting roaming free in the area, and finally to the police coming. Yena was speaking so fast by the time she had almost finished that she wasn’t even sure what she was saying anymore.

Jongdae didn’t respond immediately. Meekly, she asked, “That man was the shooter, right?”

She saw him hesitate, then, finally, he nodded. “Most likely,” he replied. “But I don’t think this was a murder without intent. If he just wanted to kill someone, he wouldn’t have been trying to get away at the cafe. He probably knew police were after him, too, so he wanted to throw them off the trail somehow.”

Yena wasn’t sure if she found that comforting or frightening, but she settled with comforting. Murder without a motive, she reasoned, was much more frightening. Even if the man was still dangerous, it wasn’t nearly as bad if she thought of it that way. All’s well ends well, she told herself. All of them were fine. The police were securing the area to look for the man—there was nothing more to worry about.

The GPS on Jongdae’s phone told him to make a u-turn as he missed a light. Collected and expression barely changing, he followed the instructions.

She turned to the side, half-marvelling at his ability to keep calm and slightly intimidated. He’d always been relatively soft-spoken, both at the cafe and with Jongin (then again, anyone was soft-spoken compared to Jongin), but he didn’t seem the least bit shaken. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t been there to witness it, or perhaps it was because it really wasn’t anything that new in Seoul. Whatever the reason, Jongdae didn’t look or seem too bothered by the whole situation.

Shifting on her seat, Yena glanced at Jongdae again. “Hey,” she started. “I never—uh, just… thanks for picking me up.” She managed a nervous laugh. “To be completely honest, going home alone was kind of scary, especially because there isn’t a lot of people riding public transport at this hour.”

Jongdae nodded. “It’s scary,” he agreed. “I guess… not so much when I didn’t experience it myself, but I can imagine.”

Yena wondered if that would’ve been his same reaction if he had been there (“I was scared,” Jongdae said in a deadpan voice). “Yeah, well, I’m sure it’ll be fine after a while. But still, thanks for driving. You’re still going out of your way for someone you don’t even know that well.”

“Don’t mention it. And it wasn’t really that out of the way. Your apartment’s pretty close to where I’m going anyway, or…” He squinted at the GPS. “I think it should be?”

She glanced at her hands. “Well, thanks anyway. And for Jongin, too. If you ever need help or if you’re sick of him, just tell me and I’ll take him home.”

“There’s no need for that.” He glanced at her briefly, beginning to smile slightly. “The cafe does have good green tea, though.”

Yena managed a laugh at that. “Okay, tea’s on me.”

They lapsed back into silence after that, with only the occasional instruction from Jongdae’s phone breaking it as the automated voice told him where to turn. She watched him in her peripheral vision.

Kyungsoo was definitely wrong. Or if he was right, Jongdae was the nicest stalker there was (she still thought Kyungsoo was wrong). But even if he didn’t have bad intentions, there were too many things about him that she wanted to ask, too many uncertainties and coincidences that didn’t fit the puzzle pieces, or perhaps fit too well. What were you doing in Beijing? Where do you work? What do you do? How in the world have I met you so many times by chance before this? It was hard to imagine that somehow, by the toss of dice, that the same stranger she had nearly tripped over in Beijing was a friend on Jongin’s. That the man had accidentally walked into the coffee shop.

But if it wasn’t a coincidence, what was it? It couldn’t be anything else.

“Jongdae,” she blurted.

He looked toward her briefly. “Yeah?”

“We’re having an orchestra performance next month, and would you be interested in a ticket?”

Jongdae seemed slightly confused. A little bit mortified with herself, Yena plowed on, “I mean, the conductor gave us each ten to give away to friends and family members, and I guess—uh, I guess it could also be a thank you because I obviously owe you more than one cup of green tea, but…”

“You’re part of the orchestra?” Jongdae frowned. “Right, you were carrying a cello when I first thought you. Was that why you were in Beijing?”

He hadn’t known. For some reason, that felt like a bit of a relief. At least coincidence hadn’t made him stumble across her during orchestra practice (or at least he wasn’t a stalker).

“Yeah,” she said sheepishly. “We had a performance, but I was late, so I was in a rush to catch the train. That’s why I tripped down the escalator. And ran into you.”

“It was pretty amusing.”

“Wasn’t my worse fall,” she mumbled under her breath. Jongdae gave a slight snort, and, embarrassed, Yena turned to look toward the window again. The surroundings were beginning to get more familiar—they were around five minutes away from her apartment, she estimated—and that sounded nice. After everything, she felt exhausted, and nothing sounded better than a night of actual, proper sleep.

“When’s the concert, then?” Jongdae turned into the neighborhood as per instruction. “I’ll see if I can make it.”

It probably wasn’t the best idea inviting him, but there was nothing else she could think of to do or say, and there was obviously no rescinding the offer. She just had to cross her fingers that, firstly, Kyungsoo didn’t see Jongdae, and secondly, if he went, she didn’t make anymore fatal mistakes when performing. She wasn’t sure which one would be worse “In half a month,” she told him. “I’ll send you the address of the concert hall, time and date if you think you might go?”

He gave her that very nice smile again. Yena was pretty sure if she’d been driving, she would’ve crashed the car if he smiled like that. “That would be good,” he agreed. “Thanks.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” she replied hurriedly. “I mean, you’ve helped me a lot. It’s the least I can do. I just hope we won’t sound… too bad.”

“You won’t.”

She wished she could have that confidence in herself, because frankly, the last time she had practiced, she wasn’t nearly as certain that the performance wasn’t going to end tragically. Still, it was nice to have the reassurance even if they were just words that meant most likely nothing.

It was then that they pulled up in front of the apartment again. The streetlights were all on (a couple of which were flickering), and she could see light from the window of Baekhyun’s bedroom. Of course he was still awake.

The GPS announced their arrival, and Jongdae braked and put the car into parking. They sat quietly a good ten seconds after he had stopped, before Yena got out, “Thanks.”

Jongdae nodded. “Don’t worry about it,” he replied, then, just as she reached for the handle, he continued, “Wait.”

She froze. “Yeah?”

He seemed to hesitate a bit, gnawing on his bottom lip, before speaking up again. “If you do come by to visit Jongin—which you probably will—can you please give me a heads up before you do and when you’re going to? And if anyone asks why you’re there, don’t mention his name. Try not to mention mine either if you can, but if you can’t avoid it, just… don’t mention Jongin. Actually, it might be best if you didn’t tell anyone about him right now, because we need him to lay low and the less people know, the better.”

She blinked. “Yeah, sure. Makes sense.”

“Okay.” Jongdae nodded. “See you, then.”

Why doesn’t he want me to mention him? It didn’t seem too big of a deal, but at the same time, she couldn’t place a finger on it completely. Then again, anything that tied anyone to Jongin could end pretty bad