18

the light in your eyes

When she was a trainee, fourteen and watching her sister take over the world, Jung Soojung had decided she wanted that too. The adrenaline on an open stage, the costumes that glittered under the shine of the spotlight, the hordes of fans chanting her name – not plain old, run-of-the-mill Soojung. A name that was more glamorous, more sparkly, for a gem like her.  

Krystal bowed a little –she wasn’t sure why, she didn’t bow a lot– when Irene handed her the plate of bulgogi to be placed at the center of the table. She was strikingly beautiful in her white apron and lavender dress, smiling brightly as she scooped food into the mouths of her two equally gorgeous children. On her right, Sehun reclined in his seat, one hand her hair and the other clutching his beer. Across her, Kai emitted a laugh at something Sehun said, like everything was perfectly normal, like days before he hadn’t been slumped over a line of Soju bottles, lamenting about how meaningless his life was. It was the last place that Krystal thought she would be at thirty-one, but somehow, she was part of that perfect picture, and desired nothing else but to feel like she belonged in it.

But she didn’t. Rightfully so. That picture wasn’t hers, the same way her name had never been hers.

Krystal stared at the balcony. Kai and Sehun were there, talking in hushed tones, as though she would be able to hear them behind the sliding glass doors. When she was younger, she thought only girls would have secrets, but apparently, men had them too.

She watched their heads bob, stray hairs falling out of their perfectly coiffed crowns. It was strange to think that she had known them for years – decades. They were once just two handsome trainees she had passed by in the practice room, one taller than the other, one chattier than the other. The chatty one was the first to ask her name, not realizing that her name was a curse that would follow him for the years to come.

She wondered if he had regretted it – asking her name. Perhaps, if he had picked another slimmer, prettier, more talented trainee, whatever they had would have just been erased in history– Actually, he did. She just came in between. Every time.

“What are they talking about?” Irene said, plopping on the couch. She had her eyes narrowed at the men, but Krystal could tell she was more cynical than curious.

“Whatever they always have,” Krystal chuckled, turning to Irene. “Work, sports, girls.”

Irene laughed heartily. She was still as drop-dead gorgeous as the day Krystal had first met her. And that meant a lot, coming from the original ice princess. Sehun, the prick, had really scored.

“Men,” Irene replied, “they never change.”

Krystal watched Kai fake-punch Sehun in the stomach, before wrapping the older man in a headlock. “It’s so strange,” she mumbled, “to think how much time has passed.”

“Yeah,” Irene nodded. She shifted her eyes to Krystal, looking at her with a gaze Krystal couldn’t quite discern. “Seems like only yesterday we were on the same boat, huh?”

Krystal’s mind catapulted down memory lane, remembering the bolded online headlines, the collective uproar of the public, and the consequently high-profile wedding day. Krystal never thought the wimpy kid at the back of the training room would grow a pair to profess his love in front of the entire world, but he somehow did. But Irene had got what she wanted, whether the world or Sehun was truly ready for it at all.

“I envy you,” Krystal smiled. “What a fairytale.”

Irene shook her head. “There’s no such thing as a fairytale,” she said, chortling. “Only reality – and knowing how to turn reality in your favor.”

Krystal raised her eyebrows. She decided she would humor her. Or be humored. “Oh? Please, tell me all your tricks.”

“No tricks. Just common sense,” Irene replied casually. “As a girl, you have to find a guy who loves you more, infinitely more than you can ever love him. If you fall for someone who isn’t holding out his heart for you on a silver platter, then no matter what you do, he’ll never be yours.”

A smile curled on Irene’s lips – guarded, enigmatic, secret. Like she was smiling for a viewer watching her on television, someone who would never know what was behind her smile. Slowly, she raised a manicured finger to her lips. Red polish, naturally.

Krystal shakily took in a breath. “I see,” she managed. “You’re amazing, Irene-unnie. I never thought you had it in you.”

Irene smiled. “You never know what people have in them, do you?”

Like her sister leaving the company. Like Sehun going down on one knee in broad daylight at the company headquarters. Like trainee Seulgi quietly taking the fall when Krystal sabotaged her first evaluation. Like Kai pressing his lips on hers on some cold, wintery December day fourteen years back. Like her, typing up that number, and hitting ‘call’–

Irene’s eyes gleamed, and Krystal felt something strange pool at her stomach. The glass doors slid open – the boys were back, and clamoring for more wine. Irene put on a smile, nodded, and headed for the kitchen.

Before she did, she gazed at Krystal. Krystal swallowed. She knows.

Autumn started earlier that year, blowing a strong night breeze and a whirlwind of leaves between her feet. It was the low-profile season that came after the heat and noise of summer, letting everyone in the industry rest a little before the end-year festivities took away their breaths.

Even then, Krystal never thought she would be out there, strutting in the open, gulping in breaths of the night air, hand in Kai’s, like they were just some ordinary couple at the end of a date. Probably because they almost were, at that point. No point catching them when they had already been caught.

There was something oddly peaceful and tranquil about his expression. It was as though he had internalized the six months of hell and could no longer be bothered to give a , as though he had decided it didn’t matter if he sank or swam, as though he’d just given up altogether.

But that wasn’t the Kim Jongin she knew. The Kim Jongin she knew would stay up in practice rooms until the crack of dawn, dancing until his bones moved on their own. The Kim Jongin she knew would have learnt anything –singing, rapping, dancing, variety, acting– because he believed a true idol should have it all. The Kim Jongin didn’t let anyone or anything